Chapter 3

I opened the second gift box; it was a Hermès silk scarf in a very eye-catching color. The third gift held a pair of cufflinks, and the fourth was a perfume gift set.

Inside the fifth gift box were the pearl earrings from the photo Paige had sent me. They had looked exquisite in the picture, but in reality, they were completely ordinary—small, with a mediocre luster. They were clearly the kind of ten-dollar cheap goods one would find at a flea market.

Then, I opened the last box. Inside lay a classic Tiffany necklace. There was also a small card tucked inside. I opened it.

Written in Jared's unmistakable handwriting were the words, "For my dearest Paige."

My fingers trembled slightly.

Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to me, I flipped through the shopping bags from the other boxes. Every single bag had a handwritten label.

The skincare set was for his mother, Nadine Boyd. The scarf was for his paternal aunt, Ingrid Foley. The cufflinks were for his father, Warren Foley. The perfume was for his cousin, Maxine Ritter.

The pearl earrings were, of course, for me. And the necklace was for Paige.

After reading through them all, I actually laughed out loud.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Jared had walked over at some point without me noticing.

When he saw that I had opened all the gift boxes, his expression darkened abruptly. "Heather, who gave you permission to go through my things without asking? This is an invasion of my privacy!"

I looked up at him, entirely calmly. "If I hadn't looked, how would I have known that the person my fiance loves the most is his ex-girlfriend?"

A flicker of guilt flashed through Jared's eyes, but he immediately blustered to cover it up. "It's just a joke between friends! Must you make such a big deal out of it? I swear, you're getting more and more unreasonable every day!"

With that, he haphazardly stuffed the gift boxes back into his suitcase, picked it up, and stormed off to the guest room.

All that was left was that cheap pair of pearl earrings lying alone on the floor.

To no one's surprise, Jared slept in the guest room that night. I wasn't sad about it at all, because the moment I posted that breakup announcement on Instagram, everything between us was over for good.

But later that night, my phone buzzed with a TikTok notification.

In the video, Jared—dressed in a white suit—was down on one knee, holding a ring box. In front of him stood Paige in a white dress.

His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice choked with emotion. "Paige, I've rehearsed this proposal in my head over and over again for ten whole years. So, whether you say yes or no today, I'll have no regrets left."

All around them, a crowd of onlookers cheered, "Say yes! Say yes!"

Paige smiled and extended her hand. Jared slipped the ring onto her ring finger, and the two embraced.

The video's caption read, "An epic love story that spanned ten years. Even if they don't end up marrying each other, at least in this moment, they truly love each other."

A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye, carrying with it the last trace of feeling I had for Jared, and shattered on the floor.

The next morning, when Jared came out of the guest room and saw me eating breakfast, his gaze flickered. He walked over and sat down across from me.

"I won't hold what happened last night against you," he said icily. "But you'd better delete that Instagram post."

"Whether I delete it or not is my choice," I retorted without even bothering to look up.

He slammed his fork down heavily on the dining table. "Heather Donahue, can you stop being so childish? We're about to get married—what will people think if they see that?"