The Runaway Groom

Gaius didn't even bother to call and explain.

The next day, I saw his update on social media.

The time stamp read 3 a.m. The photo was of two hands clasped together. The caption read, "All my life, I've wandered endlessly, never stopping. Yet twice, I've paused for you."

Without a moment's hesitation, I liked the post and left a comment: "Best wishes!"

Just as I set my phone down, it rang. The screen displayed: Husband.

I thought he had seen my comment and was calling to explain.

But the moment I answered, a delicate, breathy voice came through, followed by a faint cough:

"Donna, cough... cough... it's me, Michelle."

Whatever hope I had left shattered in an instant.

Swallowing my disgust, I said coldly, "What do you want?"

Maybe my uncharacteristic calm caught her off guard, as she paused for a few seconds before replying, "Gaius went to heat some water to wipe me down. He even left his phone behind—he's so careless!

"Donna, about yesterday... I didn't expect to get sick and ruin your wedding. Please don't blame him, okay?"

After a breathless string of apologies, I heard Gaius's gentle voice in the background. "Michelle, why are you up? Go lie down. I'll explain everything to her."

"Cough, cough... you're always like this. I just have a little illness, but you panic like it's the end of the world. It's really not that serious."

I'd long grown used to Michelle's fragile act, so I wasn't curious about how this scene would unfold.

But the two of them seemed determined to drag me into their performance, using me as a prop to complete their tragic romance.

The disgusting lines kept coming.

"I'll never let anything happen to you," Gaius said, his voice thick with affection—the same affection he once reserved for me.

"I know, you're the best to me. Now, you should go back and finish the wedding. Donna's been waiting seven years for this. I promise, this time I'll control myself and stay away, okay?"

Her voice cracked at the end.

Gaius's tone softened further. "Don't worry. The wedding's canceled. We've been married for years already. We don't need something so superficial."

My hand trembled, and the phone nearly slipped from my grip.

I couldn't believe it—his voice, so tender, carried knives aimed straight at my heart.

A wave of nausea rolled through me, but I swallowed it down and forced a laugh.

"Well, since you two clearly have so much to say, I'll leave you to it. Gaius, I have no idea where you spend your time when you're not home, but I've sent the divorce papers to Michelle's place. Don't forget to sign them."

Before I could hang up, his angry voice exploded through the speaker. "Donna! Do you have to bring up divorce every damn time like some bitter, resentful wife? Is this fun for you? Yesterday was an emergency—what was I supposed to do? Watch Michelle die?"

I curled my lips into a faint smile and said nothing.

In the past, he always responded to conflicts between the three of us with cold indifference.

I would cry and scream, and he would quietly smoke one cigarette after another.

But today, he shouted, like he'd been holding it in for far too long.

I was the one who'd been abandoned, so why was he the one throwing a tantrum?

And now, he'd even labeled me with a term I'd never heard from him before—a resentful wife.

He didn't understand. Only an unhappy marriage could turn a woman into a "resentful wife."

I'd known him for ten years, been married to him for seven.

I stood by him when he had nothing and watched him build his company from the ground up.

But after all the storms we weathered, I was no longer the young, fresh and dainty little woman he once knew.

Everything we shared, every memory, meant nothing in the face of those two words.

"Gaius, if you don't sign the papers, we'll settle this in court."

I was tired.

No matter how unwilling I was to let go, this time, I was done cutting my losses.