Chapter 3

Fudge's expression darkened abruptly.

"Yolanda, you were never someone who acted on impulse like this."

"Just because I didn't agree to get married right now? Did you coordinate this with your family on purpose, using this to force my hand?"

I looked up, meeting the anger in his eyes with complete calm.

"I'm not forcing you, Fudge. I'm the one who doesn't want to be with you anymore."

His expression grew even darker.

"We've been together seven years. No one knows your feelings for me better than I do."

"Don't play hard-to-get with me. I'm not falling for that trick."

He was convinced I was throwing a tantrum, convinced I was using Grandma's situation to pressure him into compromising, to force him to propose immediately.

Looking at him, I suddenly found it all laughable.

Laughable that I'd persisted all these years. Laughable that it took me until now to see clearly what a cold, selfish person he was.

"I'm not playing hard-to-get, Fudge. You're too self-centered."

"You only ever think about yourself, about your company, about your reputation."

"But you've never considered me or my family's wishes."

As if I'd struck a nerve, his expression grew even uglier, and his voice rose considerably.

"I work myself to the bone trying to get my company to go public—isn't that all for giving you a better life in the future?"

"I'm postponing the wedding to give you a grand ceremony, aren't I?"

"Yolanda, why can't you just be more understanding and stop trying to force me to do things I don't want to do?"

Understanding?

My nose stung with tears.

Haven't I been understanding enough?

Shortly after we got together, because he repeatedly told me I was too sharp-edged, I learned to restrain myself, to retreat further and further.

All these years, even though I desperately wanted to get married, I kept considering his various excuses and repeatedly convinced myself and my family to postpone.

Even now, because I loved him, I tolerated his intimacy with Sharon over and over, hypnotizing myself into believing he still loved me.

This version of myself disgusted even me, let alone anyone else.

"Fudge, whether you believe it or not, I've had enough."

"I don't want to wait for you anymore. I don't want to revolve around your schedule anymore. And I definitely don't want to watch you and Sharon carry on ambiguously."

At the mention of Sharon, something flickered in his eyes before being covered by anger again.

"I've told you countless times, she and I are just colleagues. Stop being unreasonable."

"The wedding is non-negotiable. We have to wait until my company goes public and stabilizes."

"No matter how much you make a scene, it won't change anything!"

With that, he threw the necklace onto the sofa, turned around, and left.

The door slammed shut with a bang. The framed photo hanging in the entryway fell and shattered on impact.

This apartment was one we bought together in our third year. I handled all the decorating myself. Every corner held my expectations from back then.

But now, all that remained was overwhelming disappointment. The warmth from those early days was completely gone.

I opened the closet, took out my clothes, folded them one by one, and placed them in the suitcase I'd prepared in advance.

From the study, I only took necessary documents. I left everything else untouched.

After packing everything, I contacted a courier service and had my suitcase sent to the apartment I'd rented in advance.

Once I'd finished all this, I sat on the sofa in a daze. My phone suddenly vibrated twice.

A notification that Sharon, whom I'd marked as a special contact, had posted a new update.

"Period cramps are killing me, but someone made me brown sugar water. I'm so blessed."

The accompanying photo was taken in a kitchen.

A broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted man in a crisp suit was wearing a teddy bear apron, standing with his back to the camera in front of the stove.

Even without seeing his face, you could tell from his body language how relaxed and at ease Fudge was in this moment—completely different from the coldness he showed me.

In the past, facing Sharon's overt and covert provocations, I would always lose control and demand an explanation from Fudge.

Now, I simply raised my hand, calmly liked the post, then blocked both Fudge and Sharon.