Where My Love Wilted

James Lane's face drained of color.

Before he could say anything, Lily Zane rounded on me. "Who are you trying to threaten? Fine, don't marry him! You're the home-wrecking bitch who stole my boyfriend, and now you're playing hard to get?"

The mood in the bridal boutique shifted instantly. Everyone around us started looking at me differently.

This was hardly the first time Lily had tried to smear me.

James had never dated her, not once, but she'd always treated me like the other woman.

She harassed my relatives, showed up at my workplace to scream abuse at me, and spread lies online that I was some slut who slept with anyone. Random men had even started sending me disgusting messages because of her posts.

For the past year, I'd been waking from nightmares, and my hair had fallen out in clumps. At my worst, I'd been diagnosed with severe depression.

But James always gave me the same excuses.

"It'll get better. Lily's just immature. You're a good person. Don't stoop to her level."

So I'd endured it. Again and again.

The more I let her get away with, the further Lily pushed.

I'd finally had enough.

Without a word, I tore off my blood-soaked veil. Gasps erupted around me as I walked out of the bridal boutique without looking back.

Footsteps hurried after me, but before James could reach me, Lily suddenly clutched her chest and screamed, "James!"

He turned around without a second's hesitation.

Scooping her into his arms, he rushed for the exit. When he passed me, he didn't even spare me a glance.

Lily did.

Her eyes opened calmly, and a mocking smile curled across her lips.

I watched without so much as a ripple of emotion. I'd lost count of how many times she'd pulled the fake medical-emergency routine. Somehow, every single time, the supposedly brilliant James fell for it.

Once, unable to take it anymore, I'd grabbed his arm and refused to let him go to her.

He hadn't gotten angry. He'd simply stared at me and said, "People say depression only happens to kindhearted people. I'm starting to think that's not true."

In that instant, it felt as though every drop of blood had drained from my body.

In that moment, I'd wanted to just end it all.

He left anyway. My depression spiraled, and alone at home, I hurt myself over and over.

While my blood pooled on the floor, Lily posted a photo of herself and James playing a claw machine together.

The ugly, winding scar was still there on my wrist.

I glanced down at it and suddenly laughed.

When I got home, I deleted the pinned post announcing our wedding, then stepped into the shower to wash the blood from my body.

It wasn't until the hot water hit my skin that I noticed the countless tiny cuts covering me.

There had been broken glass mixed into the bucket of chicken blood.

Gritting my teeth against the sting, I carefully cleaned the wounds. At some point, a hot body pressed against me from behind.

James's husky voice sounded beside my ear. "Wendy, I was wrong today. Will you forgive me?"

As he spoke, one hand began roaming over my body.

I caught his wrist, shoved it away, and grabbed a towel before walking out of the bathroom.

James clearly wasn't happy about the rejection, but he followed me out anyway.

The moment he sat down beside me, he launched into a rambling explanation.

"Lily didn't mean it. She knows she was wrong. She cried like a little kid today and kept insisting she wanted to come apologize to you. I really laid into her too..."

He went on and on, completely oblivious to the cuts covering my body.