The CEO Used AI To Reply While He Loved Her Chapter 02
I was too exhausted to keep fighting with him.
I went straight back to the bedroom and fell asleep.
The next morning was my day off, so I slept later than usual. Before I even opened my eyes, I heard laughter spilling from the living room.
Bright. Easy. Intimate.
I pushed open the bedroom door and saw Callan standing near the entryway changing out of his running shoes.
His hair was damp with sweat, his jacket half-unzipped, two paper breakfast bags hanging from one hand.
Brielle stood beside him with flushed cheeks, laughing softly.
“I almost died halfway through today.”
Callan grinned at her.
“That’s because you stayed up too late again. Tomorrow you’re cutting the route short.”
In our second year together, I once asked him if he wanted to take evening walks with me around the neighborhood after dinner.
He said he didn’t have time.
I asked again a few months later.
He said work drained him enough already and he just wanted peace and quiet when he got home.
But for the past three years, he had woken up an hour early every single morning to go on sunrise runs with Brielle.
Rain. Wind. Storms.
Didn’t matter.
When he noticed me standing there, he paused briefly.
“You’re up?”
I didn’t answer.
He lifted the breakfast bags slightly.
“Got breakfast. Want some?”
I already knew what was inside without looking.
Lobster bisque. Shrimp pastry bites.
Brielle’s favorites.
And the exact foods that could send me to the hospital.
The first time I had a severe shellfish reaction, Callan sat beside my hospital bed while the IV dripped into my arm and carefully typed my allergy into his phone.
The next time he brought breakfast home, it was still seafood.
Because some habits were carved too deeply into him after twenty years with Brielle.
I suddenly felt exhausted.
“Callan.”
He looked up.
“Why can’t you ever remember I’m allergic to shellfish?”
The smile on his face stiffened.
Before he could answer, Brielle stuck her tongue out playfully and looked at me.
“Okay, that one’s my fault, Evelyn. I kept begging Cal to stop at that place, so he forgot to ask what you wanted.”
Then she turned to him with a teasing smile.
“Next time won’t happen again, right?”
Callan nodded naturally.
“Yeah. I’ll grab you something else next time.”
Next time.
Always next time.
But ever since they started those morning runs together, not once had “next time” included breakfast I could actually eat.
I stopped speaking.
Brielle was already heading toward the bathroom like she belonged there.
“Cal, I’m gonna shower first. I feel disgusting.”
“Go ahead,” he said easily. “I put fresh towels out for you. Same place as always.”
Same place meant the second shelf beside the shower.
The pink towels. Citrus body wash. Her favorite lotion.
Those things had lived in our bathroom for years.
Callan never noticed when the apartment ran out of toilet paper for three days straight. He couldn’t remember where the detergent pods were. Half the time he didn’t even know how groceries magically appeared in the fridge.
But Brielle’s things?
He tracked every detail effortlessly.
This was supposed to be our home.
Yet somehow I felt like the outsider standing in the middle of it.
My chest tightened painfully.
I went back into the bedroom, changed clothes, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.
Callan finally looked up again.
“Where are you going?”
“I have errands.”
He didn’t ask anything else.
Just lowered his head and started setting plates and utensils out for Brielle.
The moment I stepped outside, cold wind hit my face, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.
I still had a lot to do today.
Cancel the wedding dress.
Cancel the venue.
Cancel everything.
The second I walked into Ivory Atelier, one of the consultants hurried over with a bright smile.
“Ms. Marlowe, are you here with Mr. Mercer today?”
“We pulled both gowns you were deciding between last time. We were just waiting for your fiancé to help choose the final one.”
Halfway through the sentence, she realized no one was standing behind me.
Her expression shifted slightly.
I smiled anyway.
“It’s just me.”
Then I said quietly,
“I’m not here for a fitting today. I’m here to cancel.”
For a second, she looked genuinely uncomfortable, but she didn’t ask questions.
Maybe because there weren’t many brides who came to six separate fittings while their fiancé never showed up once.
The first few times, she still tried to smooth things over.
“Mr. Mercer must be really busy.”
By the sixth appointment, she stopped mentioning him entirely.
She only zipped the dresses carefully and adjusted the train in silence.
After the paperwork was finished, she handed me the cancellation receipt with unusually serious eyes.
“Ms. Marlowe… someone as kind and beautiful as you is going to find a man who actually treasures you someday.”
I froze briefly before smiling.
“Thank you.”
But by the time I walked out of the boutique, my eyes were already burning.
Even a stranger who had never met Callan could see he wasn’t the right man for me.
And it still took me five years to finally accept it.
By the time I canceled the venue, the videography team, and the floral designer, the sky had already gone dark.
My phone rang just as I stepped out onto the street.
Vanessa Mercer.
Callan’s mother.
“Evelyn, sweetheart, come over for dinner tonight.”
Then after a brief pause, she added warmly,
“Callan and Brie are already here. We’re just waiting on you.”
