Three weeks before my wedding, I caught my fiancé cheating. The debt from our canceled wedding was crushing me, and he refused to help. All I had left was his family’s precious heirloom ring.
So I sold it for $25,000. His reaction was absolutely epic. There’s a wedding dress hanging in my closet that I’ll never wear.
It’s ivory silk with perfect beading, size eight, and $1,400 down the drain. But that’s not even the worst part. I’m Amy, and last month, I was supposed to be Mrs.
Liam Something-or-Other. But fate had other plans. Liam and I had been engaged for over a year.
Everything was planned down to the last detail. The venue at Valley View Gardens, the flowers, the band, and even the cake tasting was done. I’d put down $20,000 in deposits for everything, and every single penny was non-refundable.
My friend Jenny was the one who shattered my perfect little world last month. She spotted Liam and his ex-girlfriend, Chloe, at some coffee shop on Fifth Street, and from what she described, they weren’t acting like old friends catching up. “Amy, I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Jenny said, her voice shaking over the phone.
“But I just saw Liam with Chloe. They were… they were holding hands.”
My stomach literally dropped to the floor. “Are you sure?”
“Honey, they were practically making out in the corner booth.
I’m so sorry.”
That’s when my perfect little world came crashing down. I confronted Liam that same night, and he didn’t even try to deny it. “It just happened, Amy,” he said, not even looking me in the eye.
“Chloe and I, we have history. You know that.”
“History? We’re supposed to get married in three weeks, Liam.
Three weeks!”
He shrugged like we were talking about the weather. “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe we’re not meant to be.”
A sign?
After two years together, after planning our entire future, he calls it a sign. “Get out,” I whispered. “Amy, don’t be dramatic…”
“GET.
OUT.”
He left that night and took his toothbrush with him, like that was all our relationship meant to him. I spent the next week calling vendors, begging for refunds, and crying into the phone. Most of them were sympathetic but firm.
“No refunds. Sorry for your situation. Company policy.”
Twenty thousand dollars flushed away because my fiancé decided his ex was more interesting than his future wife.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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