He Canceled Our Wedding 18 TIMES for His Bestie Chapter 08

He Canceled Our Wedding 18 TIMES for His Bestie Chapter 08

In the days that followed, I went to work and back as usual. In my free time, I went for walks and

joined gatherings with colleagues.

The only thing that changed was the shadow that trailed behind me at a careful distance, which was

always there, yet never closing in.

At first, he just followed silently, watching me go about my day.

Later, he tried sending a bouquet on Valentine’s Day and ordering a cake for my birthday.

After that, he started talking to himself, or maybe to me, sharing jokes he’d heard and problems

he’d encountered.

I never answered. But he kept at it, tireless, almost like he was enjoying it.

Until our eight-year anniversary rolled around. Heavy snow was falling.

For the first time, Griffin knocked on my door.

His eyes held that anxious, hopeful look.

“Sandra… do you remember? Today’s our… our eight-year anniversary.”

I folded my arms, my voice cold. “I remember we broke up.”

He shook his head fast. “I’m not trying to push you into taking me back.”

“I just figured… you’ve been alone out here for almost half a year. You might be missing food from

back home…”

“I made some of your favorites. And that gin you used to like…”

I cut him off. “I don’t like it anymore.”

“Then I’ll get something else. Tell me what you want then. I’ll go buy it right now.”

Looking at his eager face, I shook my head.

“I don’t like alcohol. And I hate getting drunk.”

“You want to know why?”

His expression went blank, but something uneasy flickered beneath the surface.

“Because I hate being thrown out on the street like trash when I’m too wasted to stand up

myself.”

for

That winter was colder than this. It was fourteen degrees Fahrenheit. You could feel your breath

freeze mid-air.”

“I curled up in the corner by the door, covering myself with that stiff doormat. And all I could dream about was the disgust on my boyfriend’s face.”

Griffin’s face was draining white. I didn’t stop.

I dragged every memory he’d ignored right out of the dark.

“You didn’t pull me back inside until three in the morning when you figured I was sober enough not

to stumble into you.”

“And I got sick the next day. It left permanent damage. I’ve been extremely sensitive to cold ever

since.”

“Especially during my period.”

He knew what was coming next. He just stared at the floor, too ashamed to look up.

“I never used to get cramps. So when I did, it felt like someone was ripping me apart from the

inside.”

“I was lying there, barely conscious. And you said I’d missed breakfast prep-minus five points.”

“I could barely breathe from the pain, begging you to take me to the ER. You said I wasn’t independent enough and minus ten. Then you sent me a delivery link for painkillers.”

“Well, thanks to you, I’m plenty independent now.”

“Even out here, a foreign country, I can figure things out on my own. I cook my own food. I take care

of myself.”

“Especially without needing you.”

The light in Griffin’s eyes died completely.

Everything he wanted to say shriveled to one quiet, broken word: “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t look at him. I just shut the door tight.

Not a sliver of cold air would slip through anymore.