His Childhood Sweetheart Erased Our Wedding-So I Married Someone Else Chapter 09

His Childhood Sweetheart Erased Our Wedding-So I Married Someone Else Chapter 09

Three days after the wedding, I returned to the old apartment for the last of my things.

My key still worked.

The moment I stepped inside, I stopped.

The place was a disaster. Takeout containers covered half the coffee table, and the ashtray was overflowing.

Gavin had never smoked before.

A note in his handwriting was stuck to the refrigerator door.

“Erin, your stomach medicine is on the second shelf. Don’t forget to take it.”

It was dated a week earlier.

He had written it, but there was no one left to read it.

I found the last few clothes I had left in the bedroom closet.

A box was buried at the bottom. Inside was a necklace with a tiny star pendant.

A card lay beneath it: “For Erin. Happy fourth anniversary.” The date written on the card was still a month away. He had bought my anniversary gift early.

I stared at the little star for a long time, then closed the box and put it back.

I did not take it.

Just as I turned to leave, the front door opened.

Gavin stood there holding two paper bags filled with groceries.

He stopped when he saw me.

For three seconds, neither of us moved.

Then his gaze dropped to the wedding ring on my left ring finger.

He looked away, carried the groceries into the kitchen, and said quietly, “You came for your things? I’ll help you.”

He did not mention getting back together. He did not beg me to stay again.

He simply carried three boxes downstairs, loaded them into my trunk, and stood beside the car.

Before I started the engine, he tapped on the window.

I rolled it down.

He handed me a plastic bag containing two bottles of stomach medicine.

“Don’t ignore your stomach problems anymore. Get regular checkups.”

I took the bag.

He stepped back and slipped both hands into his pockets.

In the rearview mirror, I watched him stand there until his figure disappeared into the distance.

When I reached my new building, I sat in the car for ten minutes.

I did not cry.

For the first time, I understood with perfect clarity that those four years were truly over.

A week after the wedding, Lila sent me a long message from overseas.

I hesitated for five seconds before opening it.

It was not an apology. It was an explanation.

“Erin, I know you don’t want to hear this, but there are things I need you to know. When I moved overseas years ago, I wasn’t acting out of anger. I had been diagnosed with an ovarian tumor and needed surgery. I didn’t want to burden Gavin, so I never told him. I came back because something was wrong with my follow-up results. The doctors said my condition might get worse, and I may never have another chance to make that trip. I wanted to finish the drive we had once promised to take while I was still strong enough. I should not have returned right before your wedding. I know you hate me for what happened, and I accept that.”

I read the message three times, then put down my phone.

For a moment, I was moved. More than anything, though, I felt exhausted now that I knew the whole truth.

She had her reasons.

But she had chosen that exact moment to return. She had posted intimate photographs every day and framed taking Gavin away as a final goodbye.

Her illness did not explain those choices, and it did not excuse them.

I opened the reply box, typed a sentence, then deleted it.

In the end, I sent only, “I hope you get well.”

Then I deleted her contact information.

That evening, Noah noticed something was wrong while we were having dinner.

He did not press me for an explanation. He simply cut the roasted chicken into smaller pieces and pushed the plate toward me.

After dinner, he said, “I’ll take you to the new planetarium this weekend. I heard the star-dome show is supposed to be incredible.”

I smiled. “Okay.”

It was the first time in four years that I had said yes without forcing myself.

Before bed, I was scrolling through social media when I saw Gavin’s first post in two weeks.

There was no photo, only one line: “I’m sorry.”

He had not tagged anyone, but I knew exactly who it was meant for. I scrolled past it.

I had expected the fourth anniversary of the day Gavin and I got together to pass without notice.

But the moment I woke that morning, the date surfaced in my mind.

I had thought I had forgotten it. I had not.

Noah had left for work, leaving a note on the refrigerator door.

“Breakfast is in the fridge. Remember to heat it up.”

His handwriting was neat, and the note was brief.

As I ate the sandwich he had made, I remembered that Gavin had never once made me breakfast in four

years.

Maybe he had loved me. I had simply never been his first choice.

During a meeting that morning, my phone vibrated with a text from an unfamiliar number.

“Happy fourth anniversary. The necklace is at the bottom of the closet, unless you already took it. – Gavin”

He had used a new number to reach me.

I stared at the message. My heartbeat did not change, and I felt no urge to cry.

I deleted it calmly.

on, my best friend called and told me Gavin had resigned, listed the apartment for sale, and planned to over in another city.

He said this city was full of reminders of you, and he couldn’t stay here anymore.”

“Oh,” I said,

My friend paused. “You’re really not sad at all?”

I thought about the question.

“It’s not that I’m not sad. I just used up all my grief during that month.”

That afternoon, Noah texted me.

“If you get off work early, let’s go to the grocery store. The fridge is empty.”

We pushed a cart side by side through the store.