I Cancelled The Wedding While He Paid For Her Dream Dress Chapter 09

I Cancelled The Wedding While He Paid For Her Dream Dress Chapter 09

The day Callum moved into a basement apartment, he tracked down the junk removal facility where my

trash bag ended up. He spent the last few hundred dollars he had to bribe the yard manager for it back.

The bag was caked in mud. He carried it inside like it was the most valuable thing he owned, then knelt and

worked the knot loose with shaking hands.

Half a gray sweater. A meal plan I’d written out for his acid reflux. A ball of blue yarn. And a diary with a

small lock on it.

He stared at the diary for a long time. Then he found a screwdriver and pried the lock open.

[A puppy came into the rescue center today. Callum crouched down and made a tag for its collar himself. He pricked his finger with the needle and refused to admit it hurt.]

Callum’s finger traced the line. His vision blurred before he could finish reading it.

Page after page. Every dinner he’d canceled over three years. Every time he’d chosen someone else over me. Every time he’d told me to be the bigger person.

[He took Brielle to the restaurant we’d picked for our anniversary. Said she’d just come home and he didn’t

want her to feel lonely.]

[He told me Brielle wasn’t well and not to make a big deal out of it. I dumped the soup I’d been cooking all

afternoon.]

[The wedding dress was beautiful. I wonder if I looked ridiculous to him that whole time, standing there

trying it on while they were placing bets.]

The last half page had a single line, scratched out so hard the pen had torn through the paper.

Callum held the page under the dim bulb overhead. It took him a long time to make out the words beneath all

the ink.

(I wish you and Brielle a lifetime of happiness together.]

I’d written the blessing. And then I’d taken it back.

The battered laptop in Callum’s basement was open, streaming a documentary awards ceremony.

The host read my name. Traveling veterinary consultant, credited with rescuing multiple endangered

animals during a cross-continental shoot. The year’s best documentary.

The camera cut to me.

White suit, hair pinned up, and a smile with nothing broken in it.

Reid was in the front row. He was clapping along with the crowd, but his eyes never left me.

In the basement, Callum still had the diary in one hand. He reached out and pressed his fingers to the screen.

On screen, I held the award and spoke into the mic. “I used to think love meant making yourself smaller. Turns out real love does the opposite. It gives you more room to breathe.”

I did not mention him.

Not a single word.

A sound escaped Callum’s throat, low and strangled. His tears hit the diary and the ink started to bleed.

He tried to blot them with his sleeve, but his hands were shaking too hard. The pages crumpled under his

grip.

His phone buzzed. A court enforcement notice.

Between the lawsuit damages and corporate fines, there was nothing left to salvage.

A text from Brielle came right underneath.

[You destroyed my life. I hope you suffer.]

He read it. He didn’t even have it in him to respond.

Backstage, the ceremony’s buzz was still fading.

Reid leaned in the doorway. “Coming to the after-party?”

I looked up. “Don’t you hate events like this?”

He shrugged. “You won. I can survive one night.”

I slipped my phone into my pocket. “Then let’s go, Mr. Award-Winning Director.”