My Fiancé Postponed Our Marriage License Seventeen Times For His Intern Chapter 07

My Fiancé Postponed Our Marriage License Seventeen Times For His Intern Chapter 07

The moment the plane broke through the clouds, I turned my phone off.

Outside the window, everything was blinding white.

I closed my eyes.

Five years flickered past, piece by piece.

The first time I saw him, standing in a charcoal suit, commanding the room during a mock trial.

Our first date—cheap food from a late-night stand, him insisting it was better than any restaurant.

The first time I met his parents, his hand wrapped around mine, telling me not to be nervous.

Our wedding day, his voice unsteady from too much to drink as he held me and said I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

The best thing.

I opened my eyes and smiled.

Some things come with an expiration date.

Twelve By the time I landed in Paris, it was already evening.

later, I landed in Paris.

Seven p.m., local time.

The second I turned my phone back on, it exploded with notifications.

Forty-seven missed calls.

More messages than I bothered to count.

I didn’t open a single one.

Instead, I scrolled to my contacts and texted the colleague who was picking me up.

My phone rang again—his name on the screen. I declined the call.

It rang a second time. I declined again.

When it rang for the third time, I answered.

“Liora!” His voice was raw, like he hadn’t slept. “Where are you?”

“At the airport.”

“Which one? I’ll come get you.”

“Charles de Gaulle.”

Silence.

It stretched just long enough to say everything.

Then, quieter, “You… really left?”

I didn’t answer.

“Liora,” he said, breath uneven, “come back. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About us. About the future. About—”

“Callen.” I cut him off. “Eighteen times.”

He went still.

“The first time, you said next time. I waited. The second time, you promised. I waited. The third time, you said trust me. I waited.”

My voice didn’t rise.

“And this time, I just stopped waiting.”

“That’s not fair. This time I meant it.”

“I know,” I said. “Mireya wasn’t feeling well, right?”

Silence again. Heavy.

“Do you know what I did yesterday?” I asked, watching the unfamiliar city lights outside the terminal. “I liked her post.”

He didn’t speak.

“Not because I meant it,” I said. “Because I finally understood something.”

“What?”

“That you were never mine.”

His breathing turned uneven, sharp and unsteady.

“Five years ago, when you were chasing me, you said I was different. That you didn’t do this for anyone else.”

I let out a quiet breath.

“I believed you.”

A pause.

“Now I get it. You weren’t making an exception for me. You just hadn’t met the person you’d actually make one for.”

“Liora—”

“That’s Mireya.”

I didn’t raise my voice.

“You showed up for her. Every time you didn’t show up for me.”

“Liora, that’s not what this is. She’s just a junior associate. There’s nothing between us—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, cutting in cleanly. “Whether there is or isn’t.”

Silence.

“What matters is I don’t care anymore.”

A dull thud echoed faintly through the line, like something hitting a wall.

“Liora…” His voice broke. “You can’t just walk away like this. We had a ceremony. Five years together. You don’t get to just leave.”

“Yes, we had a ceremony,” I said. “That’s all it ever was.”

He inhaled sharply.

“Liora—”

“Let it go, Callen.”

I hung up. Powered off my phone.

My colleague jogged over, apologizing in French for being late.

I smiled, shook my head, and followed him out.

The air in Paris was cooler than I expected.

The wind carried something unfamiliar.

I took a deep breath.

And for the first time in five years—I let it all go.