What Happened To The Fiancee Who Jumped Had In The End?

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

My husband's first love jumped to her death due to depression and landed right on me as I was passing by. I was rendered unconscious on the spot and subsequently rushed to the ICU. However, my orthopedic surgeon husband stayed by his first love's side to comfort her over her minor scratches. He even refused to sign my Critical Care Notification. "Whoever joined her charade can get lost along with her! Come to me when she's really dead!" he said. It wasn't until he received a death certificate that he realized in horror—the deceased's information was identical to mine.

On our wedding day, my fiancée humiliated me in front of everyone. She postponed the ceremony, not for an emergency, but to throw a lavish wedding for her childhood friend's pet hamster. Dressed in my tailored suit, I got shoved off the stage and was laughed at by everyone. My mom couldn't take the humiliation. Her heart gave out, and no ambulance could save her. Days after we buried her, my fiancée reappeared, demanding that I donate a kidney to that friend. The surgery nearly killed me, leaving me broken and betrayed. It prompted me to end things with her. She spiraled into regret, tormenting herself to win me back.

For our ninety-ninth engagement ceremony, Julian booked us a skydive. He said he wanted to tell me he loved me at thirty thousand feet. My chute didn't open. I got tangled in a big tree. I survived, yet suffered multiple fractures all over my body. In the ward, I accidentally saw a message on the screen of our jump instructor's phone. It was addressed to Julian, and it carried a video. The video showed someone tampering with my chute before we boarded. So the "accident" was Julian's idea? I dragged myself out of bed on crutches, every bone in my body screaming, ready to confront him. I made it as far as the hallway. He was already there, talking to someone, and the moment I saw the other man, the floor tilted under me. The man across from him was the same driver who'd hit me with his car the night before our last engagement. The hit-and-run that should have killed me. "Mr. Veil, if you ever need me again, please reach out." Julian's voice was flat, almost tired. "There won't be a next time. I've tried everything I can think of. The engagement can't be postponed anymore." "And the woman you actually love, sir?" "I'll keep loving her," Julian said. "But Ada is the one I marry. Her mother gave my father a kidney. That's the debt. I have to pay it." I stood there shaking, and the truth rearranged itself behind my eyes. The camping trip he had planned, where I got lost and nearly died of hypothermia in the woods. That had been him. The vitamin C he had handed me, the one that put me in the ICU. Him too. And this time — the skydive, thirty thousand feet, “I want the sky to witness our love”. All of it. Every single one of those accidents was him trying to delay the wedding. But Julian, I thought, I could save you the trouble. The next morning I accepted an offer that had been sitting in my inbox for weeks: an invitation from a world-class orchestra on the other side of the planet.

Just three days after we got engaged, I stumbled across a private story posted by the girl he had grown up with. 'Too bad the boy who confessed to me ninety-nine times is marrying someone else in ten days.' In the photo, he trailed behind her through a crowded mall, his arms loaded with shopping bags, looking as if he had rehearsed the scene a hundred times. Curious, I scrolled down to read the comments. 'No way. The childhood-best-friend and first-love storyline still lost? Girl, that hurts.' 'Lost? He's getting married and still spending the whole day shopping with her. She didn't lose anything.' 'I feel bad for the bride. I'm seriously waiting for confession number one hundred to happen at the wedding, followed by a runaway groom scene.' Watching strangers bicker in the comments, I quietly pressed the like button, blending into their chaos. None of them knew that in just ten days, I would be the one stepping away from the altar. The fake-death package I'd ordered was already in motion. While my fiance and his childhood sweetheart mourned the love they claimed was out of reach, I quietly counted down the days until I could disappear for good.

When the factory director’s son dragged my drunk fiancee into the supply warehouse, I pretended as if I did not see them. I just turned around and walked away. In the past, I had ruined my own future by rushing in and beating the factory director’s son up. I was even framed for stealing the supplies from the warehouse. When the warehouse keeper came over with the police officers, my fiancee deliberately ripped her own clothes. She cried and said that she came with the director to stop me from committing the crime, but I beat her up and even defiled her. Everyone despised me, and I became a criminal. My fiancee’s parents could not bear the rumors, and they forced me to marry her. But that marriage was only the start of a hellish life. She lived like a queen at home, yet she told everyone I was starving her. When she got pregnant, she deliberately pushed her belly against the corner of the table. Then, she stood in the courtyard and cried. She claimed I had abused her, and I wanted to kill my own baby. My parents felt bad for me, so they borrowed money from everyone they knew to get her a job. But when she landed on the job, she framed my father for stealing the steel from the factory. Half a year after my father was imprisoned, he passed away in jail due to an illness. My mother could not bear the stress and fell severely ill. She also passed away soon after. When I was pinned under the collapsed brick wall at the construction site, she did not call for help. Instead, she picked up a brick and smashed it into my head. “If you were not so nosy, Jeremy and I’d have been together already. We wouldn’t have wasted so much time!” My head bled, and I was buried beneath a pile of rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was at the entrance of the supply warehouse. From inside, I heard my fiancee’s soft, teasing murmurs.