He Used AI to Text Me, While Chatting with Her All Night. Ok, I Canceled the Wedding Chapter 02

He Used AI to Text Me, While Chatting with Her All Night. Ok, I Canceled the Wedding Chapter 02

I didn’t argue. Just went to bed.

The next day was slow to start. I woke to laughter in the living room, bright and unguarded.

I opened the bedroom door. Elias was by the entryway, lacing his shoes.

Sweat dampened his hair. His jacket was unzipped. He held two breakfast bags.

Celeste stood behind him, cheeks pink, still laughing.

“Almost couldn’t keep up today.”

Elias smiled at her.

“Told you not to stay up late. We’ll cut the loop shorter tomorrow.”

Year two of our relationship, I’d suggested evening walks.

He said he was busy.

I asked again later.

He said work drained him. He needed quiet.

But for three years, he’d risen an hour early to jog with Celeste. Rain or shine.

He saw me and paused.

“Up?”

I didn’t answer.

He lifted the bags.

“Brought breakfast. Want some?”

I didn’t need to look.

Lobster rolls. Seafood risotto.

Celeste’s favorites. And my allergens.

The first time I landed in the ER, Elias stayed through the IV. Noted it in his phone.

The next breakfast he brought home? Risotto and lobster rolls.

Twenty-plus years of habits with Celeste, etched into bone.

Exhaustion washed over me.

“Elias,” I said. “Why can’t you remember I’m allergic to seafood?”

His smile froze.

Celeste stuck out her tongue, playful.

“My fault, Rosalind. I begged Elias to get these. He forgot to ask.”

“Won’t happen again, right?” I said.

Elias nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Next time, different.”

Next time.

But in three years of dawn jogs, “next time” never came.

I stayed silent.

Celeste drifted toward the bathroom like she owned the place.

“Elias, quick shower. I’m gross.”

“Go. Clean towels are in the usual spot.”

Usual spot. Second shelf. Pink towel. Citrus body wash. Celeste’s lotion.

Permanent fixtures.

Elias never did chores. Wouldn’t notice the toilet paper was out until day three.

But Celeste’s supplies? Restocked like clockwork.

This was supposed to be our home.

Standing there, I felt like a trespasser.

My chest tightened. I turned back, changed, grabbed my bag, and left.

Elias glanced up.

“Where to?”

“Out.”

He didn’t press. Just focused on setting out Celeste’s silverware.

Outside, the wind hit my face. I could finally breathe.

First stop: the bridal salon.

The consultant greeted me.

“Ms. Hartley! Mr. Whitmore joining you today?”

“The two dresses you liked are prepped. Just waiting on his opinion.”

She noticed I was alone. Her smile faltered.

I shrugged, detached.

“Solo today. Not here to try on. Please cancel my order.”

Her expression dimmed, but she didn’t pry.

No bride returns six times without her groom.

The first few visits, she’d laughed it off. “Busy man, huh?”

By the sixth, she stopped mentioning him. Just zipped me up, smoothed the train.

After the paperwork, she handed me the receipt.

“Ms. Hartley, you’re kind. And lovely. You’ll find someone who cherishes you.”

I blinked. Then smiled, thanking her.

Stepping outside, my eyes stung.

Even a stranger saw what took me five years to admit.

Venue. Photographer. Florist. By dusk, it was all undone.

Elias’s mother called.

“Rosalind, dinner tonight.”

A pause, then a laugh. “Elias and Celeste are already here. Waiting on you.”