My Perfect Fiancé Was Living a Second Life in Messages Chapter 07

My Perfect Fiancé Was Living a Second Life in Messages Chapter 07

A week later, I found a part-time job at a design studio, doing illustrations and product packaging.

My coworkers were a few young women. We ordered takeout together at lunch and split coffee orders in the

afternoon.

Someone asked curiously, “Veronica, where did you live before?”

I smiled. “Somewhere far from here.”

No one pressed further.

Friday night, a light rain fell.

I was making boxed mac and cheese in my apartment.

The water was bubbling on the stove. Outside the window, the distant sound of waves crashing against the

rocks floated through the window.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

I dried my hands and walked to the door. I peeked through the peephole.

Under the dim hallway light, James stood outside.

I almost didn’t recognize him.

His shirt was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and a dark stubble shadowed his jaw.

Dark circles hung under his eyes.

He was holding a paper bag with the logo of my favorite bakery.

I opened the door and leaned against the frame, looking at him. “How did you find this place?”

His voice was hoarse. “Amanda wouldn’t tell me. So I pulled your flight records.”

He held up the bag. “It’s still warm. Try some.”

I didn’t take it. “What do you want?”

He slowly lowered the bag, his fingers gripping the handles so hard his knuckles went white.

“Veronica, come back home. I know you’re angry. The check-in stuff… that was wrong.”

He took a breath. “I’ll change.”

When he said those two words, his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“From now on, no matter how busy work gets, I’ll call you every day. I’ll tell you what I’m doing, who I’m

seeing, what I’m eating.”

“Not as check-ins, for real.”

I looked at him. Five years ago, I had been waiting for those words. But now that they landed in my ears, they left me completely unmoved.

“James, do you know why I never checked up on you?”

He didn’t speak. He just looked at me.

“Because I really trusted you.”

“You said you were in a meeting, and I believed you. You said you had a dinner meeting, and I believed you.”

“For five years, not once did I doubt a single message you sent me.”

My voice was soft, as if I were speaking to myself.

“And what did you do? You used my trust as your free pass. You locked me down with those check-ins, then

went and lived your real life.”

“You made me believe that being cold and restrained was how you showed love. But really? You just couldn’t

be bothered to put any real effort into us.”

James’s face went pale.

The scent of cranberries and butter drifted from the bag through the damp hallway air.

He opened his mouth, his voice low and trembling.

“I’m putting in the effort now.”

“I found you. I traveled a thousand miles to find you.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

I looked down at the bread, my favorite: cranberry orange scone.

He remembered, actually, he remembered a lot of things.

But remembering and caring had never been the same thing.

“No,” I said. “Everything you’re doing right now only proves that you never did any of it before.”

I looked him straight in the eye. “James, you can travel a thousand miles to get here. But for the past five

years, you couldn’t walk the ten steps from the bedroom to the living room.”

He stood motionless in the doorway.

After a long time, he bent down and set the bag of bread on the floor.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, his voice broken. “I’ll wait downstairs. I’ll come up when you’re ready to talk to me.”

I watched him turn and walk toward the stairs.

The back of his custom dress shirt had a deep crease.

I looked away and closed the door.

The water on the stove had boiled over and extinguished the flame.

I turned the gas back on and cooked my pasta.

I ate, washed the dishes, wiped down the counter.

After everything was put away, I pulled back the corner of the curtain.

Under the dim streetlight downstairs, he leaned against the pole, head bowed, a light rain falling on him.

The bread was still sitting outside my door.

I let the curtain fall and didn’t go downstairs.