From Wedding Bells to Shattered Dreams

From Wedding Bells to Shattered Dreams

Gavin

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Five years. That' s how long I' d spent in Paris, dreaming of New York, of the life Liam and I would build. I was finally back, holding the custom cufflinks for our wedding, ready to surprise him at a fancy hotel where he' d told me to meet him for dinner. But I got the surprise instead. I saw him, laughing, his arm around Chloe, his assistant-the same girl who' d made my high school a living hell. They disappeared into the hotel, and moments later, his call came through, breezy and apologetic. "Something huge has come up. I' m deep in negotiations with a crucial client, I can' t get away. We have to postpone dinner." A crucial client. In a luxury hotel room. Then, Chloe' s text: a barrage of photos-Liam kissing her, her in Liam' s shirt, a selfie of them entering the hotel, her lips on his cheek. Underneath: "Hey old friend, long time no see. I' ve got my eyes on your fiancé, no need to give him up, I' ll just take him." The initial shock gave way to a cold, clear calm. The love, the devotion-it felt like a stupid joke. When Liam finally came home, I was packing. He tossed a cheap Eiffel Tower keychain on the table, a souvenir from his "client meeting." Then I heard his friends, Mark and Josh, laughing in the hallway, letting themselves in. "Is he still in there with Chloe?" Mark whispered loudly. "Of course," Josh snickered. "He' s got Ava flying back thinking they' re getting married, while he' s screwing his assistant. He' s a legend." "He says Ava' s a bore. And she doesn' t have that ugly scar on her back." The scar. The one Chloe gave me, pushing me down stairs. The one he' d comforted me about. And then, later, Liam came in with Chloe, her hand snaked around his arm. "Chloe needed a place to stay for a few days. Her apartment has a pest problem," he said, pouring her wine, in our home. Then I saw the prenatal vitamins behind the coffee maker. She wasn' t visiting. She was nesting. Chloe emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in Liam' s bathrobe, fake tears in her eyes. "I' m so sorry. I' ll just go sleep on the street." Liam rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Look what you did! You made her cry! Apologize to her right now, or get out." I stared at him, at the stranger he had become. "Fine," I whispered. I grabbed my bag and walked out into the pouring rain. He pulled up beside me in his car. "Get in, Ava. Stop making a scene." I kept walking. He accelerated, then slammed the brakes, splashing dirty water all over me. "This is what you wanted, right? To be a martyr? Fine. Have fun." He sped off, leaving me bruised, wet, and heartbroken. But then my phone buzzed. It was my grandfather' s assistant. "Miss Miller, your engagement to Mr. Ethan Hayes has been formally agreed upon by both families." Liam' s older brother. The direct opposite of him. One engagement ended in a threat, and another began with a phone call. I knew then that this wasn't the end. It was a new beginning.

Introduction

Five years. That' s how long I' d spent in Paris, dreaming of New York, of the life Liam and I would build.

I was finally back, holding the custom cufflinks for our wedding, ready to surprise him at a fancy hotel where he' d told me to meet him for dinner.

But I got the surprise instead.

I saw him, laughing, his arm around Chloe, his assistant-the same girl who' d made my high school a living hell.

They disappeared into the hotel, and moments later, his call came through, breezy and apologetic. "Something huge has come up. I' m deep in negotiations with a crucial client, I can' t get away. We have to postpone dinner."

A crucial client. In a luxury hotel room.

Then, Chloe' s text: a barrage of photos-Liam kissing her, her in Liam' s shirt, a selfie of them entering the hotel, her lips on his cheek.

Underneath: "Hey old friend, long time no see. I' ve got my eyes on your fiancé, no need to give him up, I' ll just take him."

The initial shock gave way to a cold, clear calm. The love, the devotion-it felt like a stupid joke.

When Liam finally came home, I was packing. He tossed a cheap Eiffel Tower keychain on the table, a souvenir from his "client meeting."

Then I heard his friends, Mark and Josh, laughing in the hallway, letting themselves in.

"Is he still in there with Chloe?" Mark whispered loudly.

"Of course," Josh snickered. "He' s got Ava flying back thinking they' re getting married, while he' s screwing his assistant. He' s a legend."

"He says Ava' s a bore. And she doesn' t have that ugly scar on her back."

The scar. The one Chloe gave me, pushing me down stairs. The one he' d comforted me about.

And then, later, Liam came in with Chloe, her hand snaked around his arm.

"Chloe needed a place to stay for a few days. Her apartment has a pest problem," he said, pouring her wine, in our home.

Then I saw the prenatal vitamins behind the coffee maker. She wasn' t visiting. She was nesting.

Chloe emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in Liam' s bathrobe, fake tears in her eyes. "I' m so sorry. I' ll just go sleep on the street."

Liam rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Look what you did! You made her cry! Apologize to her right now, or get out."

I stared at him, at the stranger he had become.

"Fine," I whispered. I grabbed my bag and walked out into the pouring rain.

He pulled up beside me in his car. "Get in, Ava. Stop making a scene."

I kept walking. He accelerated, then slammed the brakes, splashing dirty water all over me. "This is what you wanted, right? To be a martyr? Fine. Have fun."

He sped off, leaving me bruised, wet, and heartbroken.

But then my phone buzzed. It was my grandfather' s assistant.

"Miss Miller, your engagement to Mr. Ethan Hayes has been formally agreed upon by both families."

Liam' s older brother. The direct opposite of him.

One engagement ended in a threat, and another began with a phone call. I knew then that this wasn't the end. It was a new beginning.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Short stories

4.8

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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