I Cancelled Our Wedding After Seeing His Call Log Chapter 02

I Cancelled Our Wedding After Seeing His Call Log Chapter 02

On my way home, I received a call from my supervisor asking me to drop by the Columbia University literature department to pick up a file for him.

Hanging up, I let out a heavy sigh. Just when I wanted to draw a clean line between us, fate reminded me that David was a tenured professor right there.

When I arrived, it happened to be the peak hour for students rushing to class.

Their words reached me whether I wanted to hear them or not.

“I barely managed to snag a seat in Professor Harrison’s class! He’s insanely popular.”

“Right? The girls are all there for the professor, and most of the guys are there for Sarah, his assistant. Talk about a perfect match.”

My footsteps gradually slowed down.

A sudden wave of bitterness surged in my chest.

In our five years together, I had never once stood proudly within David’s social circle.

Back when we were deeply in love, I used to playfully beg him to introduce me to his colleagues, or to change his social media background to a photo of me.

But David, the impeccably serious academic, would always knit his brows and lecture me as if I were an immature child.

“Chloe, grow up.”

“You’re not eighteen anymore. Stop focusing on these superficial, meaningless things. It doesn’t suit my professional standing.”

I had frozen in shock that day.

And from that moment on, I never brought it up again.

Nearby, a group of girls were still gossiping endlessly about David and Sarah.

“Seriously, Professor Harrison’s official bio says he’s engaged, but I bet it’s Sarah! Otherwise, why has no one ever seen his fiancée?”

“Definitely. A guy that intense only smiles when he’s looking at Sarah.”

The two girls walked farther away.

My pace became slower and slower until I finally stopped by the edge of the hallway.

Years of suppressed grievances instantly overflowed.

I took a deep, stabilizing breath.

Fortunately, I had my own way out. In three days, everything would come to an end.

After retrieving the documents for my supervisor, I passed by the faculty offices and heard a familiar, playful laugh.

“Try this, it’s absolutely delicious!”

Through the crack in the door, I saw Sarah and David sitting together having breakfast. Sarah naturally held her cup of soy milk up to his lips.

David absolutely despised soy milk.

Once, I had prepared it for him, and he slammed the glass down and stormed out, leaving me sobbing alone in the house.

But now, he merely frowned slightly before letting out a helpless, indulgent sigh under Sarah’s persistent coaxing.

He drank it.

Sarah’s large eyes blinked expectantly. “Well? Is it good?”

David nodded gently. “It’s not bad.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle mockingly at myself.

During the moments I wasn’t around, David was actually capable of showing such gentle, accommodating tenderness.

Yet, I hadn’t witnessed it even once in five years. Not even a single time.

Inside the office, David naturally reached out with a napkin to brush away crumbs from the corner of Sarah’s mouth, asking softly, “Did you sleep well last night? Any insomnia?”

“I slept great,” Sarah beamed, “You know that as long as we stay on the line together, I can sleep like a baby.”

Then, something else seemed to occur to her.

“But I heard you never pick up the phone after nine. Am I disrupting your schedule?”

David replied without a shred of hesitation, “You’re the exception.”

Those four short words wrapped around my heart like a thorny vine, suffocating me with sharp pain.

Hearing him say it with his own lips brought a fleeting, breathless agony that quickly dissolved into sheer numbness.

Some thorns hurt terribly when pulled out, but as long as they are gone, time eventually heals the wound.

Leaning against the wall, I waited until every ounce of emotion drained from my eyes before walking away.

When I got home, I pulled out my suitcase and began packing my belongings piece by piece.

After living in this place for five years, my things couldn’t even fill a single bag.

That evening, David called. “Get ready to come downstairs. We’re having dinner at my mother’s place tonight.”

I offered a quiet murmur of assent.

Spotting his Maybach by the curb, I habitually walked over and pulled open the front passenger door.

Only to find Sarah sitting inside, happily munching on a walnut pastry.

“Hi, Chloe.”

Looking at the crumbs scattered all over the premium leather seat, my first instinct was to check David’s reaction.

He absolutely loathed anyone eating in his car. Especially me.

But right now, his expression was entirely blank, as if he had long grown accustomed to it.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

I had almost forgotten—Sarah was the sole exception in his life.

Sarah frantically wiped her mouth and began clearing her seat, “Maybe I should sit in the back, I…”

I offered a serene smile.

“It’s fine. Stay right there. It’s just a seat.”

I opened the back door and climbed in, catching a fleeting look of bewilderment in David’s eyes through the rearview mirror.

I ignored it.

Similar situations had occurred in the past.

But every single time, it ended with David snapping at me with irritation.

“Chloe, it’s just a seat. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Staring out at the drizzling rain through the window, I realized I could no longer feel the heartbreaking grievances of the past. The sheer tranquility surprised even me.

Indeed.

It was just a seat.

Just a man.

To me, it was all the same now—something to be thrown away.