He Chased Me to Spite His Enemy. So I Left Him at the Altar Chapter 11

He Chased Me to Spite His Enemy. So I Left Him at the Altar Chapter 11

Dorian Thorne didn’t go. He bought the apartment across 

from mine and moved in. 

He showed up at my school every single day. 

He followed me around like a lost dog for six months. Like he 

was ready to waste his whole life on this. 

One day I got so angry I snapped at him: “Dorian Thorne- give it a rest with the expired devotion, okay?” 

His eyes went red. “Evelyn Blackwood–please. Don’t talk to 

me like that. Please.” 

“I was stupid. I ran my mouth. I hurt you. I wanted to humiliate you by leaving you at the altar.” 

“But I really love you. It was just my pathetic pride. I know I messed up.” 

“Please don’t leave me.” 

I didn’t feel a thing. It was kind of pathetic, actually. “Dorian Thorne… don’t you think this is just getting sad?” 

I kept ignoring him. 

But just when I thought things couldn’t get more ridiculous- Cassian Greymoor must’ve gotten wind of where I was, 

because he showed up too. 

Sometimes I think those two really are cut from the same cloth. Both of them, drama queens to the core. 

I must have burned down an orphanage in a past life to end up 

with these two headcases in this one. 

On Christmas Day, they both asked me out. 

I said yes. 

I figured I’d deal with both of them at once, get it over with. 

Dorian Thorne rented out a whole restaurant. When I walked 

in, the place was full of red roses. Werewolves are so basic 

sometimes. 

The smile on his face was real–until he saw Cassian 

Greymoor walk in behind me. Then his face went gray. 

“What are *you* doing here?” 

Cassian Greymoor snorted. “She asked me to come.” 

I put my bag on the table and gestured to the chairs. “Both of you sit down.” 

“Evelyn-” Dorian Thorne started. 

“I’m going to say this once, and then we’re done.” 

“You two have known each other for eighteen years. You’re both thirty years old. Stop playing these childish games.” 

I turned to Cassian Greymoor: “I’m grateful that you were there for me when I was a scared kid. But maybe I was just in love with the idea of someone saving me, not with you personally. When you gave me nothing back, when you got tired of me, I let go. So Cassian Greymoor–I don’t owe you anything. And let me be clear: the only reason you want me now is because that timid, obedient little girl grew up into someone who doesn’t need anyone’s protection–and she’s 

not orbiting around you anymore. You just can’t stand it.” 

“I’m not some toy for you two to fight over. So Cassian Greymoor–leave. It’s better for both of us.” 

Cassian Greymoor just stared at me. His silver eyes held my 

face for a long time, like he was trying to memorize it. Then he turned and walked away. 

I watched his back, and for a second I saw myself–the twelve–year–old me, hiding in a bathroom, scared and small. 

But this time, he wasn’t the one who saved me. 

*I* saved myself. 

It took a long time to learn how. But it’s never too late. 

“Evelyn… I know you really loved me. You gave me your whole 

heart.” 

Dorian Thorne must have realized what was coming. His face 

was full of pain. 

My feelings for Dorian Thorne were… more complicated. 

I took a breath. “About Tatum-” 

He cut in, desperate: “I never loved her. I never touched her.” 

I nodded. “I know. You were just letting off steam. That 

unresolved, bitter feeling you had about me. Especially as the 

wedding got closer. You couldn’t stand it.” 

“I won’t lie to you. Those five years we were together–I was 

happy, I was sad, I was heartbroken, I was overjoyed. I really 

felt *something*. I thought I’d grow old with you.” 

“But life never turns out the way you expect. I heard what you said. I played along. I used the revenge you wanted to take on me, and I turned it around on you-” 

“Stop. Please, Evelyn.” 

“Eighteen years, Evelyn. How am I supposed to just throw that away?” 

Tears ran down Dorian Thorne’s face. He was *crying*. Werewolves almost never cry in front of humans. It’s dignity. It’s instinct. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you forgive me. Just tell me.” 

I sighed. “The three of us have been tangled up for too long. None of us will ever be happy.” 

“And you know what? It’s like that wedding dress. Once it’s torn, you can’t mend it. And even when you try to make a new 

one… it doesn’t fit.” 

“That’s what you and I are.” 

I stood up. “So stop coming to see me. I can’t handle either of your versions of love.” 

“And I’m not looking back.” 

He grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, anguished. “The future is so long… can’t you give me one chance?” 

I looked at him and smiled. “Dorian Thorne. Did you get the painting? The one I commissioned from your favorite artist. When I was twenty–three.” 

He went still for a second- and then the tears rolled down his face. “We’re done, aren’t we? For good.” 

I didn’t answer. 

Walking away was my answer. 

Missed chances are missed chances. Sometimes I feel a little sad about it. But I’ll never regret it. 

When I closed the door behind me, Dorian Thorne was still standing there like a ghost. 

But I knew it was over. 

Some wounds heal. Some people go their separate ways. Some tears you cry, and then you don’t cry them again. 

I’m going to keep walking. Leave all the broken dreams behind 

1. me. 

Because the world is big. And the wind will blow from new 

directions. 

Someday, I’ll wake up in a different morning, and I’ll look back at all of this and laugh.