**Chapter 1**
My fiancée posted a video clip on SnapChat, and forgot to mute the sound.
From the background, I heard a man call her name: Would you ever use your hand to help him with his needs?
Chloe answered, No.
I earn a seven-figure salary; he’s just a lapdog I keep around.
I forced a bitter smile, tossing the pink diamond ring I held. I messaged my dad: “Dad, I’ll agree to the arranged marriage. Fire Chloe from the company.”
Then I called the wedding planner.
“Hello, for the wedding ten days from now, the bride’s name needs to be changed. Yes, we’re swapping her out.”
…………
“Mmm, we’ll discuss the details when we meet.”
I hung up, and Chloe emerged from the bathroom.
Her hair was half-dry, steam rising from her bathrobe.
Normally, she took half an hour to shower, but today she’d taken a full hour.
She glanced at the laptop on the table, still open, and quickly snapped it shut. Frowning, she asked me:
“Who were you just on the phone with?”
I told her truthfully it was the wedding planner.
Chloe visibly relaxed, certain I hadn’t seen her chat history.
Otherwise, knowing my temper, I would have caused a huge scene, forcing her to fire Brandon, just like I used to.
Brandon, Chloe’s new assistant hired about a year ago. A fresh-faced grad, full of youthful charm.
He was humorous, lively, and cute. Chloe really liked him, taking him along for overtime and business trips.
I’d get jealous, and we’d often argue about it. She’d only agreed to marry me out of exasperation.
“The wedding’s still ten days away; you don’t need to be so meticulous.”
Chloe said, her tone flat, betraying no hint of joy.
She probably thought I was just calling to remind the wedding planner about details.
After all, for five years we’d been together, every holiday and anniversary, I’d personally planned everything down to the last detail, just to make her happy.
“Yeah.”
No need to be meticulous now, since the person I was marrying was even more meticulous than I was.
The thought brought a bitter smile to my lips.
Chloe impatiently flipped her damp hair. “My hair’s still wet!”
Before, every time she finished showering, I’d patiently help her blow-dry her hair. But now, I didn’t want to.
“Sorry, I have something important to do. You’ll have to dry it yourself.”
Chloe froze, her voice turning sharp:
“What could a house husband like you possibly be busy with?!”
“Your main job is to take care of me! You said that yourself, have you forgotten?”
A sharp, stinging pain bloomed in my chest.
Five years ago, I did say I would take good care of her, but now, I didn’t want to.
“I don’t want to take care of you anymore, Chloe.”
With that, I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door without looking back.
Back home, I fell to my knees before my parents, full of regret.
“Mom, Dad, I was wrong! I’ll agree to the family alliance. The wedding date stays, but the bride changes!”
My parents exchanged surprised glances, immediately asking what happened.
To be with Chloe, I’d cut ties with them and moved out five years ago.
A few months ago, when they learned I was going to marry Chloe, they finally couldn’t stand it anymore.
They found me, saying they’d found a suitable match for me—the heiress of the Sterling Group, and my childhood friend. She was clearly better than Chloe in every way.
I’d refused them, insisting Chloe was my true love.
Turns out, Chloe had slapped me hard in the face, and shattered my heart.
“Son, are you really agreeing to the arranged marriage? Shouldn’t you at least meet her first?”
My mom helped me up, her heart aching.
“No need. I trust your choice.”
At least, I wouldn’t be left brokenhearted by love again.
Late that night, Chloe called.
“Liam, my hair didn’t dry properly earlier, and now I’ve caught a cold. Could you come home with some medicine?”
Her voice was soft and sweet, clearly trying to smooth things over.
After every argument, if she softened her tone, I’d always give in.
But not this time.
“Don’t you have an assistant? Just have him bring you the medicine. I’m busy. Gotta go.”
Chloe’s voice suddenly rose, sharp and shrill:
“What’s wrong with you?! Why are you bringing someone else up out of nowhere?! You’re my husband; of course, you should be the one to take care of me!”
I remained silent.
For five years, Chloe had always bossed me around like this.
She trampled on my sincerity, constantly giving others a chance, but I was too foolish.
Blinded by love, I clung to the belief that she just had a bad temper but still loved me.
It wasn’t until I personally saw her comparing me to Brandon, saying I was boring and he was exciting, that I finally understood: she only loved herself.
“I told you I’m busy. You figure it out yourself.”
I hung up, and my parents breathed a sigh of relief.
The next morning, I went home to pack my things.
Opening the door, I found Chloe lying on the sofa, looking at me with a wronged expression.
“You finally decided to come back.”
Her face was pale, clutching her stomach, she spoke plaintively.
I sighed. She must have been very upset yesterday.
She had stomach problems; her stomach would hurt whenever her emotions fluctuated.
Even though I was determined to leave, seeing her like this still made me feel a pang of pity.
I found the medicine cabinet, got some cold medicine, and then poured a glass of water, bringing it to her.
“There’s medicine in the cabinet. Couldn’t you have found it yourself?”
She took the medicine, but before she could speak, a man’s voice called out.
“Chloe, should I put sugar in the porridge?”
Brandon, wearing an apron, emerged from the kitchen.
The moment he saw me, he paused, then chuckled:
“Liam, you’re here?”
He looked exactly like the man of the house greeting a guest.
The next second, he seemed to realize his mistake and quickly corrected himself:
“Oh, you’re back, Liam! Chloe has been running a fever and her stomach has been hurting. She said you were busy, so she could only call me to bring medicine.”
Only then did I notice a pharmacy bag on the coffee table.
I couldn’t help but smile. Looks like I worried for nothing again.
Chloe tilted her head back, swallowed the medicine, and took several gulps of the water I’d poured.
“Honey, your medicine is still the most effective.”
“Don’t be mad, I waited for you all night, but you never came. This morning, I felt so awful I just had to call my assistant.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder, weakly saying:
“The moment I saw you, I felt so much better.”
“Brandon, you can go back to work now.”
She waved her hand, dismissing Brandon.
After he left, Chloe took my hand and said earnestly:
“Honey, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”
“Can you forgive me?”
She rarely called me ‘honey,’ and this was the first time she’d chosen me over Brandon in front of him.
She clearly knew how to make me feel secure.
But she was never willing to do it. Now, it was too late.
I gently pulled my hand from hers, stood up, and said:
“You should get some rest. Don’t overthink things.”
Entering the kitchen, I saw two sets of dishes and forks in the sink, and my heart sank to rock bottom.
Brandon had been here since last night.
Chloe had lied to me again.
**Chapter 2**
I pulled out my phone and saw Brandon’s SnapChat post from last night.
Still visible only to me.
[Boss is so hardworking, she’s still working overtime and sick before the wedding! I brought her medicine and a late-night snack.]
The accompanying photo showed him giving a peace sign next to Chloe’s sleeping face.
Well, if he wanted to take my place so badly, I’d let him have it.
I went to the wedding planner’s office to discuss the details of changing the bride.
I had overseen all the wedding arrangements; Chloe had never even shown up. So, it was easy to sort out.
Back home, the wedding photos in the living room seemed to burn my eyes.
I took them down, along with all our photos from over the years, packed them into a box, and prepared to throw them away.
A pink card fell out of an album.
It read: [Chloe will always love Liam].
She wrote that when she confessed her feelings to me five years ago.
Recalling the past five years, I realized that Chloe didn’t actually love me.
She only loved everything *she* loved. Her love had no respect.
My clothes, my skincare products—they all had to be brands she liked. The apartment we rented also had to be decorated to her taste.
Even our wedding home, though I supervised the renovations, the design drafts and furniture were all chosen by Chloe.
I didn’t actually like the French chic style.
But because Chloe liked it, I forced myself to like it too.
For five years, I compromised again and again for love, becoming someone I wasn’t, only to be met with disdain.
I crumpled the card into a ball and tossed it into the trash.
“What are you doing?”
Chloe’s voice came from behind me.
I looked up at the clock, realizing it was already seven in the evening.
It was Chloe’s usual time to get off work.
Today, she hadn’t worked overtime or had any social engagements; she’d come home early.
I was a little surprised. I gently closed the box.
“Just tidying up some trash.”
She looked around, seeming to notice something missing from the living room.
“Where are our wedding photos?”
“I gave them to the wedding planner to use as a reference for the display board,” I said casually, without looking up.
“Oh.”
Chloe didn’t ask further. She held up a box in her hand and said to me:
“Don’t be busy yet. I brought you your favorite shrimp buns. Come and eat.”
I opened the box. Inside were shrimp buns.
Seeing me not pick up my forks, Chloe frowned and asked:
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m allergic to shrimp.”
She knew that, but she’d forgotten.
Chloe’s expression faltered, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.
“Oh, sorry, I completely forgot! I’ll go buy you something else right now!”
She grabbed the box and went back out. I pulled out my phone and, sure enough, saw Brandon’s SnapChat post.
[Yay! Boss brought me my favorite shrimp king buns for my overtime dinner!]
So that was it.
It was just Brandon’s favorite, and she’d simply grabbed one for me too.
Chloe returned an hour later.
This time, she bought my favorite crab buns.
Seeing me still busy, she set down the takeout box and said softly:
“You don’t have to rush packing. We’ll move into our new home together after the wedding, and I’ll help you organize then.”
“Yeah, I just want to get rid of some useless stuff beforehand,” I replied dismissively.
“Didn’t you always say you wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland? I took a month off for our honeymoon trip so I can go with you.”
Chloe, seeing my lack of enthusiasm, volunteered.
If it were before, I’d have been thrilled, hugging her and spinning her around.
But now, I knew we wouldn’t be going together.
“Mmm.”
Seeing me staring intently at the ripped-off calendar on the table, Chloe finally frowned and asked:
“When did you buy that countdown calendar?”
A bold red “5” was marked on it.
“I bought it yesterday. Five days from now is the most important day of my life, so I’m keeping track.”
My tone was flat, but Chloe’s eyes lit up.
“Oh, right! Five days from now is our wedding day! You’re so thoughtful!”
She hugged my face and kissed me, but then her phone rang.
After just one glance, her expression changed.
“Honey, something came up at the office. I need to go back for overtime.”
I nodded, then stood up and started moving the box outside.
“I’ll take out the trash. You don’t need to go down; it’s cold outside.”
Chloe eagerly took the box and walked out.
She only needed to open it and look inside to know that the “trash” I was throwing away was our wedding photos, our couple’s albums, and the confession card she had personally written.
If she had seen it, she would have realized I was leaving.
If she had realized, she would have come back, desperately trying to keep me.
Unfortunately, she never found out.
**Chapter 3**
Late at night, I scrolled through Brandon’s SnapChat.
[Suddenly got diarrhea during overtime, good thing my boss is taking care of me! So happy!]
In the picture, Chloe, with her sleeves rolled up, was holding medicine and water.
Looks like the shrimp king buns were to blame.
Good thing I didn’t eat any.
I went to meet my old friends and had a good, long drink with them.
Before, Chloe wouldn’t let me drink and didn’t like me having my own social life.
Now, I was finally free.
I woke up from my hangover late the next afternoon.
Chloe walked in and habitually said:
“I worked too late yesterday, so I just slept at the office.”
She wearily took off her coat, sniffed the air, and frowned.
“Where’s that smell of alcohol coming from?”
“I drank too much with friends yesterday. Just open the window to air it out.”
She frowned unhappily, but after glancing at my face, she ultimately said nothing.
Right, she could spend the entire night taking care of her assistant and lying to me. What right did she have to control me?
Glancing at the bold red “4” on the calendar on the table, she seemed to remember something.
“Oh, by the way, your birthday is in two days. Do you want anything?”
She reminded me, and only then did I remember my birthday was coming up.
“No, thanks. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday.”
I echoed her own words from a past occasion.
On her birthday that day, I had prepared a table full of dishes, waiting for her, only to be scolded:
“My work is very busy, and I don’t want to celebrate my birthday. You don’t have to wait for me.”
Later, I discovered on Brandon’s SnapChat that Chloe was closing her eyes and making a wish over a cake.
Turns out, she didn’t *not* want to celebrate her birthday; she just didn’t want to celebrate it with me.
We had a huge fight that day. I yelled, asking her who she was thinking of when she made her wish.
She said I was petty, and that her colleagues had forced her to celebrate her birthday, and she couldn’t refuse.
She seemed to recall that incident, a flicker of guilt in her eyes.
“No way, that’s your last birthday before we get married! I have to make sure you celebrate it properly!”
She put her arm around my shoulder and lightly kissed my cheek.
“Huh? Where’s the watch I gave you last year? You’re not wearing it.”
That watch, the moment she walked out the door yesterday, I threw it in the trash.
“I put it away,” I said blandly. Chloe just said “Oh” and didn’t ask further.
She had stayed up all night taking care of Brandon, then worked all day, so she was exhausted.
After a shower, she went to bed early.
The moment the clock struck midnight, I tore off a page from the calendar, “3.”
Three more days, and I would be completely free of Chloe.
I called the wedding planner and told them to go to the new bride’s address to take her measurements and help her choose a wedding dress.
My parents also called, urging me to meet her beforehand.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen her before. Meeting her at the wedding is fine.”
“Meeting who?”
Chloe had overheard my words.
“My parents. They said they wanted to see their future daughter-in-law before the wedding, but I turned them down,” I replied casually.
Chloe looked a bit displeased. “Speaking of which, I haven’t met your parents in five years. Why did you refuse for me?”
The daughter-in-law they want to see isn’t you.
I opened my mouth, but in the end, I was too lazy to say it.
Chloe opened the closet, surprised.
“Where are all your clothes?”
“I packed them away. It’ll be easier to move them directly to the new house when the time comes,” I replied calmly. Chloe took out her coat, then turned and hugged me.
“I took tomorrow off. Let’s celebrate your birthday at home!”
It was one of her few proactive gestures of goodwill.
“Okay.”
Good. We got together on my birthday five years ago.
Let’s end it on this day.
It’s my birthday. The countdown shows “1.”
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