The Ring He Was Putting on My Finger, the Money He Was Sending to Her Chapter 02
The call ended.
The cramping pain slowly ground at my nerves.
I sat on the couch for a long time without moving.
Only when the manager quietly asked if I wanted a car did I snap out of it. I took off the gown and changed back into my own clothes.
The Morgan mansion up in the hills was almost an hour’s drive from downtown.
The taxi climbed the winding road, windshield wipers working overtime.
By the time I reached the front gate, my shoes were soaked.
The rusted iron door was half open, welcoming its former owner.
I walked through the mud to the big window of the main house.
Inside, every light was on.
Through the rain-streaked glass, I saw everything clearly.
Dylan had taken off his jacket and was just in a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He stood on a stepladder with a tool in his hand, talking to someone below.
Tiffany wore a nightgown, looking up and laughing happily.
She held a Ragdoll cat in her arms.
Dylan hated cats.
In five years of living together, he’d claim to be allergic and wait in the car even if I just wanted to pop into a cat café.
But now, he climbed down from the ladder and instead of stepping back, he reached out and rubbed the cat’s head as if it were nothing.
Tiffany tugged at his sleeve and whined playfully.
It was such a sweet scene. So sweet that I, his fiancée, looked ridiculous standing there.
I stood in the rain, watching through the glass for a long time.
Until my fingers went numb from the cold. Until even the cramping in my stomach felt distant.
I walked around to the front door and pushed it open.
The laughter inside stopped abruptly.
Tiffany flinched and immediately hid behind Dylan, clutching the cat.
“Claire… what are you doing here?” she asked, all timid, her eyes instantly filling with tears.
Dylan turned. The warmth on his face froze the moment he saw me drenched and covered in mud.
“You follow me?” His brows drew together as he strode to me.
I ignored his question. My eyes went past his wrinkled white shirt to the few stray cat hairs still on his fingers.
He said he was allergic. Back then, he’d get nervous and tell me to wash my hands even if I just looked at a stray cat.
Now here he was, letting that Ragdoll roll around in his arms like it was nothing.
Turns out it wasn’t an allergy. He just didn’t love me enough.
“Claire, do you really have to pull this dramatic crap in the middle of a rainstorm?” His voice went sharper when I didn’t answer. “Tiffany’s clinically depressed. She’s terrified of being alone.”
Boom!
Lightning split the sky outside, the white flash illuminating my trembling, rain-soaked fingers.
The antique floor clock in the hallway began chiming eleven.
I watched him drape his suit jacket over Tiffany’s shoulders, and a bitter smile tugged at my lips.
“Oh, it’s already eleven.” I wasn’t crying. In fact, I looked at him very calmly. “Dylan, the bridal shop closed at eight.”
Dylan’s angry expression froze. His hand stopped mid-motion on the jacket.
Tiffany pulled at his shirt from behind, her voice watery. “Dylan, don’t blame Claire. It’s my fault. This house has my parents’ memories everywhere… I was so scared… I won’t bother you again, I promise.”
Dylan reached back and patted her wrist soothingly.
Then he looked at me, cold and distant, like I was a stranger.
“You’re being jealous and out of line,” he said, jabbing a finger toward the door. “Get out of here. Don’t make a scene.”
I looked at the way he was shielding Tiffany.
“Fine.”
No screaming. No yelling at Tiffany.
I turned and walked out the door, opening my black umbrella.
The door slammed hard behind me.
The gust of air kicked up mud that splattered onto my off-white skirt, leaving dark stains.
Five years I spent protecting this relationship. And now it’s just ruined.
