Chapter 3

Seraphina POV

Half an hour later, the door was swung open. Blake stormed in, rage burning in his eyes.

"Seraphina!" He pointed at me, his eyes bloodshot. "Explain yourself! What do you mean, 'not marrying you'?!"

I sat on the sofa, not even glancing his way. Blake grew even angrier.

"Delete that Ins post immediately and go apologize to Willow! Otherwise, this wedding..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

I stood up and slammed our wedding invitations onto the coffee table in front of him. Blake froze.

"What are you doing with those?"

I didn't answer. Right in front of him, I pulled out one card and tore it forcefully.

"Are you insane?! Stop that!" Blake reacted, trying to snatch them away.

It was too late. I didn't stop. I shredded all the remaining invitations, then tossed the pieces into the air.

I watched Blake's stunned expression and calmly told him, "I said, I'm not marrying you. So these things are useless now."

Blake was completely stunned by my actions. His shock quickly turned into furious indignation.

"Fine! Seraphina, this is your choice. Don't you dare regret it!" He threw the harsh words at me, then slammed the door shut as he left.

I looked at the mess on the floor and felt, instead, a sense of lightness.

When did I start losing myself, becoming so utterly pathetic in this relationship?

My own proposal was Blake's casual "Let's get married" after dinner. I even picked out my own ring. For seven years, I'd numbed myself with the excuse that "he's just not romantic."

But that meticulously planned proposal for Willow on TikTok? It ripped my lies to shreds.

He wasn't unromantic; he just couldn't be bothered to put in the effort for me.

Memories flooded back.

Willow always rode shotgun in Blake's car. His excuse? "She gets motion sickness in the back."

We'd make plans for a movie, but one call from Willow saying her game needed another player, and he'd ditch me in an instant.

The money we'd worked so hard to save? He even suggested we lend it to Willow first for her "startup."

My every complaint was met with Blake's dismissive "Why are you always so petty?"

Seven years. I changed so much for Blake, learned to tolerate so much. I didn't lose to love. I lost to him, and to his best friend who clearly didn't understand personal space.

Now, I refused to tolerate it anymore.

Picking up my phone, I started making calls, one by one, canceling everything related to the wedding.

"Amy, I'm so sorry, the wedding is off. Please keep the deposit."

"Hello, I need to cancel the wedding banquet for next month."

With every call, a layer of that seven-year weight fell away. Seven years wasted on a dog, but at least it wasn't a lifetime.

The relief was real. I'd gotten out in time.