Goodbye, My Lost Love

Chapter 7

I wasn't sure how much he'd overheard, so I shrugged and answered casually, "Oh, just a school exchange."

Relief flooded over his face. He exhaled deeply, flashing a small, almost relieved smile. "Come home with me. There's something I need to tell you."

I nodded and followed him in silence.

Later that evening, William told me he'd cleared his schedule for the next two days.

"We should get away for a bit," he suggested, his voice softening as he smiled. "You said you wanted to watch the sunrise. Let's take it easy, just the two of us."

"That sounds wonderful," I replied, keeping my tone neutral, masking the uncertainty stirring inside me.

He pulled me into his arms, and for a moment, I was caught up in the gesture. But then I noticed the faint scent of Ava's perfume still lingering on his shirt.

"Victoria," he whispered, his voice sincere. "I love you. If something's bothering you, just tell me. I'll make it right. I promise I'll spend more time with you, take better care of you, and make sure you're happy. Please, believe me."

I forced a smile, playing the part of the understanding fiancée. "I believe in you."

But the very next morning, William broke his promise.

A text arrived, just as I'd expected.

William: [Something came up at work. My fault, Victoria. I'll make it up to you next time, I swear!]

I didn't even feel the sting of disappointment anymore. I'd learned the hard way that expecting anything from William was pointless. Ever since Ava had reentered his life, his promises had become as empty as air.

That's why I'd booked a reservation for myself the night before. Alone.

The mountains were peaceful, the air crisp and still. I sat in a rocking chair, listening to the hum of insects, feeling a rare sense of peace wash over me.

As night fell, I scrolled through my phone. Ava had posted again.

[Wow, wow, wow! Mom and Dad's 25th wedding anniversary–and lucky me, I'm following in their footsteps!]

I stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. The words blurred before my eyes. Finally, I set the phone down and closed my eyes, letting the quiet of the night settle over me. This was the kind of peace I hadn't felt in a long time.

The image flashed in my mind, the picture of Ava wrapped around William, her arms tight around him, as they both laughed, surrounded by a school of fish in the deep blue sea.

The truth hit me hard, like a slap to the face: the "urgent company business" he'd claimed was nothing more than an excuse to go on a trip with someone else's parents.

With only three days left before I left, I woke up early to catch the sunrise. It was time to finish packing and rid myself of all the things that had kept me here.

By the afternoon, the house felt emptier with every passing hour. I sorted through the old crafts I'd made when I had nothing else to do, clay figurines shaped with William, the photo wall in the living room, and the special blind-box cabinet in the bedroom. Everything had either been sold or discarded. By now, it felt like I was already a stranger in my own home.

Then, it hit me: there were still things in the wedding house.

I drove over there, but when I arrived, I found the door code had been changed. I tried several times, but it wouldn't open. So I called a locksmith to break in.

When I stepped inside, I froze. My breath caught in my throat.

The house was nothing like I remembered. It wasn't empty, it was packed with a whole new life. The photo wall was now filled with pictures of Ava and William. The succulents I'd chosen for their air-purifying properties were gone, replaced by a yoga mat on the balcony. Ava's underwear hung in the wind, drying in the open.

The coffee table was cluttered with snacks, and potato chips were scattered across the carpet I'd picked out myself. The clothes in the master bedroom closet had been tossed aside carelessly, and in their place, Ava's clothes hung next to William's.

If I didn't know better, I'd think this was their wedding home.

Then, the memory hit me, William dropping Ava off here that day, both of them looking at me in that ambiguous way. Her eyes were full of insinuation. Now it all made sense.

Had William even known what a wedding house was? Did he ever care? He'd never even lived here, and now he let someone else move in.

My frustration boiled over. I wanted to scream, to confront him. But then I stopped. It wasn't about love anymore. Honestly, I wasn't even sure I could call it love. It was more about the disgust I felt at the whole situation.

But then I realized: it wasn't even worth the fight.

Ava's hold on him hadn't started yesterday. It had always been there. So why waste energy stirring up more drama?

This house, bought with my parents' inheritance and in my name, no longer mattered. I was leaving, and with that, it would all be someone else's problem.

I called the real estate agent, instructing them to sell the property quickly for 20% below market value. The house, well-maintained, decorated as a wedding home, and located in a prime university district, would practically sell itself.

The agent arrived quickly, filmed the property, and began marketing it right away. Before leaving, they added me on WhatsApp, reassuring me. "With the location and the price, this place will sell in no time. Make sure your documents are ready, and we'll finalize everything as soon as you're prepared."

As the agent left, they asked, "Do you want to keep anything inside?"

I glanced around the room, now feeling like a stranger's home. "No, clear it all out. I'll handle the cost."

I was working through some final paperwork when the doorbell rang.

It was William's assistant, delivering the news that William had drunk too much at a social event. I couldn't help but laugh. Of course, he had his assistant back up the ridiculous story.

Maybe he'd even overdone it on the alcohol to sell the lie better. I motioned for the assistant to lay William down on the couch, not bothering to cover him with a blanket before I walked off toward the bedroom.

The next morning, when I woke up, William had just finished showering. He saw me and shot me a glare full of silent resentment.

"Victoria, you made me sleep on the couch all night?" he spat.

I blinked, playing dumb. "Did I?"

Does this flow feel better and more natural in terms of American web fiction style? Let me know if you'd like further tweaks!