Zane and I were together for ten years. When he had no one, I stayed by his side, supporting his hockey career while believing at the end of all our struggles, I'll be his wife and the only one at his side. But after six years of dating, and four years of being his fiancée, not only did he leave me, but seven months later I receive an invitation... to his wedding! If that isn't bad enough, the month long wedding cruise is for couples only and requires a plus one. If Zane thinks breaking my heart left me too miserable to move on, he thought wrong! Not only did it make me stronger.. it made me strong enough to move on with his favourite bad boy hockey player, Liam Calloway.
View MoreEMILIAI get home earlier than usual, and the moment I step inside, I hear the unmistakable sounds of Tessa rummaging around. Shoes clatter. Cabinet doors slam. Something — probably a measuring cup — clatters to the floor.I glance at the calendar. It’s her day off.Usually, we spend her days off together, but with the wedding coming up so fast, she’s been pushing me to spend more time with Liam. If only she knew how that was going.Well, she won’t exactly want to hear about it.“I’m home!” I call out, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto the couch.Fifteen minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of her. Not even a sarcastic remark. That’s weird.Just as I’m about to get up and look for her, something hits me.A smell. A truly awful smell.It’s thick, heavy, and wrong. Like something is burning, but also… maybe rotting? My stomach churns, my eyes sting, and I slap a hand over my nose.Oh God.I stand so fast that my head spins, and the moment I do, I regret everything.Because there
EMILIAI don’t know how to explain the feeling in my chest. I don’t even know why I can’t explain it. So, I don’t try. I just drink my juice and pretend to be very, very interested in the flavour.Liam watches me, then grimaces. “I swear I’m not some creepy stalker if that’s what you’re thinking.”He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s always empty strawberry containers in the fridge. And, uh… you eat them with melted chocolate, right? Because whenever I throw them out, the containers always have little chocolate stains.”I blink. I never even realised Liam was the one tossing out my empty strawberry containers.I mean… I always figured once I finished them and shoved the pack back into the fridge, it would eventually disappear. Somehow.Also who actually notices stuff like that? He saw a few empty containers, some chocolate stains, and just knew what I liked? Isn’t that too small of a detail to pick up on?I just nod and take another sip of my juice, humming in appreciation. It reall
EMILIAI miss when rush hour only happens at noon.Ever since Liam decided my bakery was his new favourite playground, business has been nonstop. He waltzed in one day, threw on an apron, and announced he was going to learn how to bake. And just like that, rush hour became every hour.Apparently, no one on earth can resist the sight of Liam Calloway covered in flour. And honestly? I get it.I won’t lie — the extra attention has been great for business. I’ve made more money in the past few weeks than I have in my entire life and I’m not even exaggerating. But it also means I’m constantly on my feet, barely catching a break.And Liam? He’s loving every second of it.Especially since it also means I barely have a second to breathe. I’ve come to realise Liam relishes in my suffering.Right now, the line stretches out the door, and I’m pretty sure half these people don’t even care about the pastries. They just want to snap a picture of Liam rolling dough or pretend to be interested so they
ZANEThe unread messages started piling up the night I left for Chicago.I clench my fist around my phone, trying to steady my breathing as my feet pound against the treadmill. The steady hum of the machine does nothing to quiet the frustration building up inside me.I’m in the indoor gym in our house. Emilia researched the brands — only filling the house with the best of the best — of all the equipment and decorated the gym meticulously according to my tastes. Hell, she’d decorated our entire house.Hmph. Well, I guess it’s just my house now.The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The house feels emptier, quieter—like something’s missing. But I shove that feeling down, focusing on the burn in my legs instead. It’s better this way. It has to be.The week Emilia moved out, Bec moved in.It was easier that way. Having someone who understood what it was like to always be in the spotlight. Someone who got the pressure, the expectations, the constant need to be at your best. We cou
EMILIA We spend the rest of the day trying out different rides. After much persuasion — more like straight-up bullying — Liam drags me onto the rollercoaster. And after I promptly throw up everything I’ve eaten today, he tries to make up for it by taking me on the teacups. Not exactly the apology I had in mind, but at least I don’t feel like I’m dying. Hours pass in a blur of flashing lights, laughter, and the kind of fun that makes you forget why you were even here in the first place. No thoughts of the press, no contract hanging over my head — just this. By the time Liam pulls up in front of Tessa’s place, I’m exhausted but weirdly content. I unbuckle my seatbelt and hop out of the car, only to realize he isn’t following. I turn back, finding him still sitting behind the wheel, looking… confused? “Why aren’t you coming?” I ask, waving him over. He runs a hand through his already messy hair before finally unbuckling. "I don’t know, kinda feels like I’m being left behind after be
LIAM“The people in the bushes would probably find it weird if we don’t go on the Ferris wheel, huh?” I say, keeping my voice light.Emilia hums, subtly glancing over her shoulder, but it’s obvious enough.So she didn’t notice them before.Her frown deepens, but she shrugs. “Well, I live to disappoint expectations.”I bark out a laugh. Of course she does.For a second, I reach for her hand. But at the last moment, I change course and grab her wrist instead.She’s been avoiding holding my hand all day. Not outright, just small things like pretending to adjust her bag, tucking her hair behind her ear, reaching for her phone.At first, I thought it’s the whole out of sight, out of mind thing.If she doesn’t hold my hand, maybe she can pretend these last two weeks didn’t happen. Maybe she can even pretend that I was there. I didn’t have the right to feel weird about it.At the restaurant, I caught a glimpse of her arm.The scratches weren’t obvious at first, not against her light brown sk
EMILIAAfter all that screaming, I’m pretty sure Liam and I are scarier than anything inside that haunted house.We stumble outside, gasping for air between fits of laughter. My heart is still racing, and I swear I can still feel the ghostly hand that grabbed my ankle.Liam runs a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head. “That was ridiculous.”I smirk and nudge him. “Says the guy who almost punched an employee.”“In my defense,” he says, completely serious, “he shouldn’t have jumped out like that. Fight or flight, and I chose fight.”I snort. “You screamed.”He glares at me, but there’s no real anger behind it. “And you clung to me like your life depended on it.”I open my mouth to argue, but he just raises an eyebrow, waiting.Ugh. I hate that he’s right.“Whatever,” I mumble, looking away. “Let’s go find something slightly less terrifying.”Liam chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he follows me. “What, like the teacups?”I roll my eyes. “You wish.”We find another p
EMILIAThe ride starts, and I hit the gas, aiming straight for Liam. His eyes go wide — then BAM! I crash into him, sending his car spinning.“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he yells, quickly recovering.I laugh, swerving just as he tries to hit me back. He misses.“That all you got, Mr. Beverage Ad Guy?”His eyes narrow. “You are so dead.”We race around the arena, bumping into each other, dodging, laughing. Kids are screaming, cars are crashing — it’s complete chaos all around us.At some point, Liam gets stuck in a corner, and I don’t waste the chance. I slam into him three times.“Are you serious?” he groans, gripping the wheel like it betrayed him.I flip my hair dramatically. “Some of us are just naturally talented, Liam.”The ride slows to a stop, and I hop out, grinning. Liam stays behind, rubbing his jaw like he’s thinking way too hard about something.“What?” I ask, raising a brow. “Sore loser? Not surprising, honestly—”“So, what would you actually want for your birthday?”
EMILIA“What’s something Whitmoore would find weird if I didn’t know that about you?”Liam walks beside me, a Mickey Mouse headband perched on his head — one I made him wear after buying it, with his own money, of course. His arms are loaded with plushies and stuffed animals, all won by me.After watching him fail miserably at winning a single prize, I got fed up, took over, and — well, let’s just say once I won one, I had to win more.It’s not my fault I can’t remember the last time I set foot in an amusement park.I wander ahead, scanning the stalls for something new to try. His question lingers in the air and I’m tempted to mention Zane’s visit.But really, that’s none of his business, I muse.I think for a second. “Nothing? I don’t think he actually knows that much about me either.”The words feel strange even as I say them.Liam’s eyebrows knit together.I mean, Zane and I were together for ten years. How can he know nothing about me?“I mean, he knows me on some level,” I clarif
I devoted ten years of my life to the only man I've ever loved, my ex-fiancé, Zane Whitmoore. Since our eighth grade in middle school, I was always by his side. I shaped myself into the perfect woman for him. I kept my black curls cut short, just the way he liked. I never wore makeup. I dressed in outfits he approved of because he didn't like when other men looked at me. For ten years, I did everything he wanted. I was going to be his wife. Everyone knew we were meant to be. So it made no sense when, six months ago, he threw it all away. "What did you say?" My voice was barely above a whisper. Zane stared at me across the restaurant table, his expression unreadable. I had made this reservation months ago for our ten-year anniversary. "I think we should break up," he said. I blinked. My heart pounded in my chest. "Zane, is this supposed to be a joke? Because it's not funny, babe." "I'm not joking, Emilia." "No, you have to be joking!" My voice rose slightly, and I glanced aro...
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