The Fiancée Who Dined Elsewhere

It wasn't until my mom, Lizzie Spencer, and I had finished eating that Alessia Pratt finally pushed open the door to the private room, out of breath.

Alessia wore a slightly apologetic look. "Sorry, the traffic was absolutely terrible..."

Before she could finish, she noticed the leftovers on the table, and her face fell.

"You two already ate?

"Gabriel, I told you. Your mom doesn't like me at all."

She took my hand and pouted, putting on her cutest act.

Normally, I fell for this every time. Whenever she and my mom disagreed, I always took her side, no questions asked.

But today, now that I knew the truth, I felt nothing. I quietly pulled my hand away.

"You're the one who was late. We couldn't exactly let my mom go hungry waiting for you.

"Besides, she's older than you. You should show her some respect."

At that, Alessia's attitude flipped instantly. "Right, I'm the younger one, so I deserve to be pushed around by your mom?

"If that's how you're going to be too, then I guess I'm not good enough for your family! Forget it. I'm calling off the engagement!"

With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

I stayed where I was.

Mom looked a little surprised. "Oh? Not chasing after her this time?"

I shook my head. "I'm tired. Let's go, Mom. I'll drive you home."

I got home at ten that night.

Alessia poked her head out at the sound and shot me a cold sideways look. "Oh, so you still remember where you live?"

I didn't explain myself or try to smooth things over the way I usually did. I just headed straight for the bedroom.

Seeing me ignore her completely, Alessia got even angrier. She grabbed my shoulder. "You don't love me anymore, do you?"

I glanced at her. I honestly couldn't understand how she had the nerve to ask that.

She was the one who'd chosen someone else first. Yet time after time, she could turn around and blame me like this without a shred of guilt.

"Alessia, I'm human. Every human being gets tired eventually.

"I've heard these unreasonable tantrums so many times that I don't feel anything anymore.

"Also, before you start interrogating me, you should ask yourself whether you've done anything wrong."

Alessia froze, and her hand slid off my shoulder.

Maybe it was because I'd never been so cold and serious with her before. Or maybe she'd suddenly remembered what she'd done that day and felt guilty.

Either way, she didn't keep screaming at me like before or accuse me of having a bad attitude. I was off the hook for now, so I went to sleep in the guest room.

That night, her footsteps lingered outside the guest room for a long time. In the end, she didn't dare knock.

The next morning, the smell of breakfast drifted into the guest room. When I came out, I found Alessia fumbling around in the kitchen.

That was a rare sight. Usually, I was the one who made her breakfast or bought it home for her.

When she saw me, she smiled. "You're up! Come try what I made."

Her phone on the coffee table lit up. I looked down and saw a text message. It was from Amos Farrell, her first love.

Amos: [Great. I can't wait to try your cooking.]

So what I'd taken for sincere remorse was nothing more than an afterthought on her way to doing something for him.

When I looked up, Alessia was packing up a soft, fluffy sandwich to go. It looked perfect.

Then I looked at the one on my plate. Scrambled egg was strewn all over it, and even the bread was burnt. It was nothing but a failed practice run.

A wave of nausea hit me. I rushed into the bathroom and dry heaved over and over.

Alessia came over at the sound and, seeing me like that, flew into a rage. "Gabriel, are you serious right now?

"So it doesn't look great. Big deal! Eat it or don't!"