He Used AI to Text Me, While Chatting with Her All Night. Ok, I Canceled the Wedding Chapter 09

He Used AI to Text Me, While Chatting with Her All Night. Ok, I Canceled the Wedding Chapter 09

“One day?” I echoed softly.

“Elias. I tried on wedding dresses six times. You didn’t show once.”

“Every single time, you had time for Celeste.”

“Venue? She picked it.”

“Menu? Planned around her tastes.”

“Invitations? You said ‘whatever,’ then spent the afternoon picking her birthday gift.”

“That wasn’t one day.”

“That was five years.”

“That was every day you chose her over me.”

I finished. Chest heaving.

Elias stood frozen. My words pinned him.

He opened his mouth. No sound came.

Because he knew I was right.

All the “small things” he’d dismissed surged back.

Rosalind in a wedding dress, eyes bright, sending a photo.

He’d been gaming with Celeste. Replied, “Looks good.”

Rosalind, seasick and pale, curled in the cabin.

He’d been on deck with Celeste, complaining she was ruining the trip.

Nights of messages:

Moon’s so full.

Streetlight’s out. Scared.

Elias, when are you back?

He’d been texting Celeste. Or asleep.

Tiny needles, piercing all at once. Small, but unbearable.

Elias’s shoulders slumped. He rubbed his face roughly.

When he spoke, his voice was thick.

“Rosalind. I know I was wrong.”

“Really know it now.”

“One chance. Please.”

“I’ll change. Everything.”

“Cut Celeste off. Delete her. Block her.”

“Home every night. Cook for you. Anything you want.”

“We can start over. Please.”

He reached for my hand.

I stepped back. Pulled away.

“Too late, Elias.”

“Your promises mean nothing now.”

“Like that seafood risotto. First time you forgot, I told you. Second time, it hurt. Third, fourth…”

“By the hundredth, I stopped expecting.”

“Now? I expect nothing.”

“Whether you come home. Whether you choose Celeste. None of my business.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

His hand hung in the air.

Stared at me, eyes reddening.

“How can you just… not care?”

“Rosalind. Five years.”

“Five years!”

“And you throw it away?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“I don’t want it anymore.”

“Elias. I don’t want you anymore.”

The final blow.

Elias staggered back, gripping the doorframe.

Head bowed. Shoulders shaking.

After a long silence, a rasp:

“Then what… what am I supposed to do?”

“Rosalind. Tell me. What do I do?”

“Without you… how do I live?”

Tears hit the floor. Dark smudges on tile.

I’d never seen Elias cry.

Always proud. Composed. In control.

Now? A lost child.

Once, I’d pitied him.

Now? Nothing. Just irony.

People never value what they have until it’s gone.

I looked at him, calm.

“That’s your problem.”

“Not mine.”