After My Fiancée Bailed 50 Times, I Went Home to Be CEO

Today was supposed to be our fiftieth wedding ceremony.

This time, I didn’t invite a crowd. Just our families.

I was running a fever, but I went over every detail with the planner anyway. Selene didn’t help. Didn’t even ask a question.

She hadn’t finished her bridal makeup. She was too busy fussing over Kaelen, who’d supposedly sprained his ankle on the way here.

My parents watched, shaking their heads. It’s not worth it, their eyes said.

“Forty-nine times,” my mom whispered. “She doesn’t care about you, son.”

Everyone knew how badly I wanted this wedding to actually happen.

But when it was time to walk down the aisle, Selene refused. Again. Canceled. Again.

I followed her outside. She stopped me at the door.

“Kaelen might have a fracture. It’s serious. I have to take him to the ER.”

“Cancel this one, too. We’ll do it next time. I promise I won’t run off next time.”

She pulled her arm from my grip, helped Kaelen into her car, and drove away.

Five years. Fifty canceled weddings. All because of Kaelen.

I used to get angry. Used to shout, Why does it always have to be during our wedding?

But this time, I stayed calm. I even smiled.

“A fracture should be treated quickly. You should go.”

Selene looked surprised. Maybe she expected a fight.

“Good,” she said, relieved. “I’m glad you understand. I’ll get you tickets to the World Cup final to make it up to you.”

I watched her roll up the window and drive off. The moment her car turned the corner, I let the smile drop.

She’d forgotten. I never cared about soccer.

Kaelen was the soccer fan.

I’d reminded her more than once. She always said she’d remember.

Now I knew. The only thing she’d never forget was Kaelen.

I laughed, bitter and quiet. Then I went back inside, called off the wedding, and threw our engagement rings in the trash in front of everyone.

It was time. This five-year waste of feeling was over.