Chapter 1
On the day we took our wedding photos, Alfie Richards's secretary said she wanted to feel what it was like to be a bride.
He claimed to refuse her. Yet while I wasn't paying attention, he still let her quietly change into my wedding dress and take a photo with him.
That day, among nearly a thousand pictures, only one stood out.
In that single frame, the way he looked at her was focused and heartbreakingly tender.
That was also the day I finally understood that Alfie didn't love me anymore.
That night, I deleted every photo and asked for a breakup.
At three in the morning, his secretary sent me a voice message on his behalf.
"Miss Simpson," she said softly, "Mr. Richards wants to know if it's really worth breaking up over just one photo?"
*****
Because of that voice message, Alfie brought his secretary over to apologize to me.
"Sorry, Sierra's just got that little-girl attitude. We were just messing around, but she took it seriously and actually sent it." He paused for a moment.
Alfie couldn't help but complain, "Megan, it's just one photo. You're really making a mountain out of a molehill."
I was slumped on the couch in my pajamas, my eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion.
In front of me, the two of them were all neat and tidy, not a hair out of place.
They looked fresh and totally awake.
I glanced at the time. It was five in the morning.
Seriously, what kind of job makes a guy bring his secretary over in the dead of night?
And anyway, Alfie never let anyone lay a finger on his phone.
When I stayed silent and didn't forgive them, Alfie noticed and started to speak up for his secretary.
Alfie started sticking up for Sierra, who was tearing up.
He said, "Megan, Sierra's been upset about this the whole way here. Can't you at least show you care?"
I shook myself out of it and stared at Alfie, seeing the impatience growing on his face.
"Here's my response: the wedding's off," I said.
Panic flickered across Alfie's eyes, but the moment he noticed the pitiful expression on Sierra Summers's face, that trace of unease was quickly replaced by bitterness.
He shot her a resentful glance, his jaw tightening.
"Fine," he said coldly. "If you don't want to marry me, it's not like you're the only woman in the world. But remember this. Don't come crying back to me someday."
He stared at me for a brief moment. When he realized my resolve wasn't wavering, he seized Sierra's hand and strode toward the door.
Sierra gave his hand a light tug, stopping him.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a printed photograph.
In the picture, she was wearing the wedding dress I had personally selected, standing cheek to cheek with Alfie.
I couldn't help letting out a soft remark.
"You two look perfect together," I said.
With a sharp tear, I ripped the photo straight down the middle.
The torn halves fluttered to the floor.
Sierra spoke in a gentle voice, but every word carried a subtle sting. "Miss Simpson, I didn't realize that taking a picture with Mr. Richards would upset you so much.
"From now on, I'll remind every woman in the company to stay away from him. Just... bear with it this once, okay?"
She sounded apologetic, yet her tone was unmistakably provocative.
Clinging to Alfie's arm as if it belonged there, she cast me a fleeting, smug glance.
Alfie pressed his lips together, but made no move to push her away.
He shot me a reproachful look.
"Sierra grew up in hardship," he said. "She's never had a proper photo of herself before.
"Do you know how much that picture meant to her? She was even planning to hang it by her bed."
I honestly had no idea.
Did Alfie genuinely fail to understand what that photograph represented?
Or was he just letting it slide on purpose?
Either way, I realized I didn't want a fiancé who couldn't maintain boundaries with other women.
Even if nothing inappropriate had happened, I no longer wanted him.
The following day, Alfie didn't go to work.
Instead, he spent the entire day at an amusement park with Sierra.
Every ride, every attraction. He took a photo with her each time.
Then he uploaded all of them to a social account that hadn't been updated in years.
His friends started leaving comments under the post.
[Damn, boss energy. Taking your employee out for a fun day yourself?]
[Alfie, you really know how to treat women.]
[But for real, Alfie, aren't you worried Megan's gonna see this?]
They even threw in a smirking, tea-spilling emoji at the end.
Less than three seconds after the post went up, it vanished.
Alfie deleted the post.
Almost immediately, my chat window lit up with messages from him.
His profile icon was covered in notification dots.
I tapped into one of them. It was a voice message.
He sounded defensive and self-righteous.
"You tore Sierra's photo last night, so I took a few more with her today to make it up to her for you. Don't overthink it."
When I didn't reply, another message followed: [Alright, alright. I was the one who reached out first, and I even deleted the post. Let's just get back together, okay?]
Actually, Alfie and I had gotten into arguments before.
We'd even brought up breaking up a few times.