A Breakup to End All Breakups

That day was the 52nd time Rachel Meyers and I were supposed to get married. This time, I didn't invite anyone except close family from both sides.

Even though I had a high fever, I still worked with the wedding planner to finalize the remaining details. Rachel, on the other hand, didn't seem to care at all.

Inside the bridal dressing room, she was busy massaging Ethan Cole's leg. He had twisted it on his way over.

My parents saw what was happening and kept shaking their heads, clearly upset on my behalf.

"Look at everything you've done for this wedding. Has she ever once shown that she cares about you?"

Everyone knew how much this wedding meant to me. I wanted it to happen more than anything.

But just as the ceremony was about to begin, Rachel, who should have been walking down the aisle, canceled the wedding again.

I rushed outside, but she stopped me.

"Ethan's leg isn't getting better. I need to take him to the hospital," she said. "Let's cancel this wedding, too. Next time, I promise I won't leave like this."

She pulled her hand away from mine and helped Ethan into the front passenger seat of her car.

We had been together for five years, and this was the 52nd time she canceled our wedding because of Ethan.

If this had happened before, I would have shouted at her, demanding why she always walked out during our weddings. But this time, I stood in place and gave her a small smile. I said, "It's fine. Ethan's leg injury does sound serious."

Rachel looked surprised that I didn't argue.

"It's great that you're being so understanding. I'll bring you that strawberry cake you like from your favorite place tonight."

I nodded and watched as she rolled up the window and drove off without a second thought. As soon as the car was gone, the smile faded from my face.

She forgot something. I hate strawberries, and I hate cake. I've never liked strawberry cake.

She had bought one for me once, hoping to cheer me up. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I forced myself to take a bite. Later, I told her the truth that I actually disliked both strawberries and cake.

She immediately pulled out her phone, wrote it down in her notes, and promised that she would never forget.

It had only been a year, and that promise was already gone.

The blazing sun burned my skin, but my heart still felt cold.

I gave a bitter laugh, walked back in, and announced that the wedding was canceled. Then, in front of everyone, I cut up the wedding suit I had worn 52 times.

That was when I finally realized that it was time to end this five-year relationship for good.