Jameson Carver proposed to me in a grand, dramatic fashion at his band’s anniversary concert.
That night, his assistant, Alice Harlow, posted on Instagram: "Seven days from now, I’m going to live on a deserted island, completely cut off from the world."
A few days later, I stumbled upon a survival guide for island living on Jameson’s laptop.
Later that night, as he held me close, he hesitated and murmured, "Honey, I feel like we’re rushing into marriage. What if we wait a few more years?"
I didn’t respond, pretending to be asleep, watching him in silence as he secretly packed up his belongings behind my back.
What he didn’t know was that I had already decided to break up with him.
The day before he ran away with Alice, our six-year relationship was coming to an end.
...
Under the soft glow of the moon, I watched Jameson, his silhouette busy as he moved about.
He was so careful, tiptoeing as if afraid to wake me, handling everything as gently as possible.
Only when he finished packing the last of his things did he lie down next to me again.
He wrapped his arms around me, his voice low. "Bella, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you. I just think marriage is like being trapped in a cage, losing all your freedom."
He sighed before continuing, "Wait for me, Bella. After Alice and I come back from the island—three years, tops. After that, I’ll marry you."
Suddenly, a vibration sounded from under his pillow.
He scrambled to find his phone, and upon seeing the caller ID, he smiled faintly.
Once he confirmed I was still asleep, he slipped out of bed and into the living room.
Through the bedroom door, I could hear his voice clearly.
"Alice, why are you calling me now?"
"Now? I’m just worried that if Bella wakes up and finds me gone, she’ll start suspecting something."
"Lace trim?"
His voice took on a husky edge.
Jameson hesitated for a moment, but then, as if making up his mind, he said, "Alright, wait for me. Let’s indulge ourselves tonight."
The next sound I heard was the soft click of the living room door closing behind him.
That was when I realized my face was damp with tears.
If I hadn’t found that island survival guide on Jameson’s laptop, I never would’ve believed that the man I had loved for six years was secretly planning to elope with someone else.
When I first met Jameson, he was just an unknown, struggling singer. I had spent my own money to help him form his band, negotiate business deals.
It was right after he released his first album, and he was so excited, he picked me up and spun me around.
"Bella, thank you. You’re my muse. Wait for me for three years, and after that, I’ll make a name for myself and give you the grandest proposal."
He kept his word.
At the band’s fifth anniversary concert, he got down on one knee in front of all the fans.
Back then, I naively thought that happiness was within my grasp, completely overlooking the hateful glare Alice shot me from the crowd.
I never imagined that Jameson would cancel our wedding and run away with her instead.
He said marriage would restrict his freedom, and that I should wait another three years.
But three years, then another three—I no longer had the energy to waste on him.
Especially not on a man whose heart had already changed.
I made a call: "Gideon Langley, about the offer you made to buy the band, I’ve decided. We’ll set the deal for six days from now."
If you don’t love me, then return to me the music dream I helped you build.
