He Chose Her On Our Wedding, I Left Him Behind

Chapter 2

Julian's name kept flashing on my screen. I didn't answer.

On the third ring, the call dropped.

Then a message came through.

Julian: What do you mean by breaking up in front of everyone?

Julian: The guests haven't even left yet. Where are we supposed to save face?

Julian: Vera, stop making a scene and come back.

I stared at the words "stop making a scene" and suddenly remembered how we first got together.

That year, he wasn't doing well financially. I spotted a plain silver necklace in a shop window and stood there for a few minutes before walking away.

Later, he worked late shifts at a coffee shop for several nights in a row, not getting back to his dorm until early morning. He slipped the necklace into my backpack. No box. Just wrapped in a convenience store receipt.

"Vera." He had been so earnest back then. "I will never let you suffer. Not even a little."

The car pulled over.

I got in. The driver asked where I wanted to go.

"Home," I said without thinking.

But then I looked out the window and fell silent.

That apartment we had picked out together held the lights I chose, the curtains I picked, and one wall he had painted light gray with his own hands.

I had thought it was the beginning of our life together.

Now, going back there would only mean waiting for him.

I changed my answer. "To the office."

We hadn't driven far when Julian called again.

This time I picked up.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" His voice was strained, holding back frustration. "I already sent a driver to get you."

"I don't need one."

"I can explain what happened at the banquet. Vivian's situation was just an emergency. I took the photos and left. Nothing happened between us."

"You haven't even finished taking the photos yet."

He paused. I heard someone calling him in the background.

"Vera, can you please not overthink everything?" His tone shifted. "She and I ended things a long time ago. I went to be with her because she genuinely needed someone today."

The car fell silent. Only the windshield wipers moved across the glass.

I looked down at my hand.

A faint red mark still circled my ring finger where the band had been.

"So the one who got left behind doesn't need comfort, is that it?"

"What do you want me to do?" His patience was fraying now. "Abandon a woman who was just jilted at the altar, so I can come back and have dinner with you? You really think that's the right thing to do?"

"I want you to remember whose day this was supposed to be."

"I do remember."

"You remember. And you still chose her."

Another silence on his end.

Then his voice softened. "Wait until I get back. We'll talk properly. Don't make any decisions yet."

I watched the neon lights blur past the window.

"This decision wasn't made tonight."

"What do you mean?"

I didn't answer.

Two weeks ago, the company had sent me an overseas assignment offer. Two years in Northern Europe. A place I knew nothing about, with a pace of life completely different from what I was used to. I hadn't signed it.

Because Julian had said he wanted to stay in the country for the first two years after we married, and only think about moving after we'd settled down.

I had left that email sitting in my inbox.

Tonight, I opened it.

All it needed was my signature at the bottom.

When the car pulled up to the office building, Julian was still on the line.

"Vera, listen to me." He must have sensed something in my voice. "We've been together eight years. You can't just end it with one sentence."

"I know."

"Then why are you still—"

"Exactly because it's been eight years. I can't keep letting you brush this off with 'it was just for a photo.'"

I hung up and walked into the empty lobby.

The front desk was closed. The motion‑sensor lights clicked on one by one as I moved through the space.

I sat down at my computer and opened the long‑unread email.

My finger trembled slightly as I typed my name.

Vera Wells.

I forwarded the confirmation to HR.

The email sent.

On the bottom right corner of the screen, the departure time blinked back at me.

Tomorrow. 6:40 AM.