My fiancé, a doctor, left our engagement party after a phone call.

Thinking it was an emergency surgery, I didn't blame him. I stayed to apologize to every guest on my own.

When I finally dragged myself home, I saw a picture posted by his beloved crush on Twitter.

Under fireworks by the sea, Bennett Webster's profile was clear—and he was smiling in a way I had never seen before.

So I left.

I thought I'd never see him again.

But then, in a hospital hallway in Berlin, I looked up…and there he was.

The same man I once loved—disheveled, desperate, whispering,

"Maddie, please come home with me."

***

I had never known he could look so gentle.

Five years ago, when I first met him, he was my father's attending physician.

He told me Dad's heart condition was severe and that he might not make it through the month.

I broke down crying right there, but Bennett didn't offer any comfort—not even a tissue.

Back then, I thought he was cold and unfeeling.

But later, I realized I was wrong.

When I went out for food, Bennett would peel fruit and get water for my dad.

During night shifts, he'd check on my father every twenty minutes from the hallway.

He even noticed my wrist tendonitis and left ointment for me without a word.

After we got together, he stayed just as thoughtful.

He didn't talk much, but he cared in his own quiet way.

He remembered what I couldn't eat, knew my cycle, and surprised me with tickets to my favorite musicals.

So when my best friend questioned whether he loved me, I defended him without hesitation.

"Bennett just doesn't show emotion easily. He might not smile, but he cares about me."

My friend shook her head, not convinced.

"Madeline, when someone loves you, you see it in their eyes. But Bennett's eyes are empty when he looks at you."

I brushed her words aside—until I saw that photo today.

Only then did I finally understand what it meant to see love in someone's gaze.

It turned out love really could be measured.

In the picture, Bennett was still wearing the coat I'd draped over him when he hurried away from our party.

I turned off my phone, breathing deeply, trying to ease the heavy ache in my chest.

Bennett didn't come back until dawn.

When he saw me sitting on the couch, empty and dazed, he froze.

"You've been sitting here all night? Why didn't you change or go to bed?"

I looked up, weary. "You left without a word. No calls, nothing. How was I supposed to sleep?"

Six months ago, a mudslide hit a village in a neighboring city.

Bennett was suddenly dispatched to assist. He left so abruptly that I didn't receive even one message from him.

For an entire week, he was out of contact, and I barely slept until he finally called to say he was safe.

After that, he promised he'd always tell me where he was going.

Now, he looked away.

"There was an emergency surgery. I didn't have time to call."

His clumsy lie made my heart sink.

But I didn't call him out. I just nodded.

"Okay. As long as you're okay."

I headed toward the stairs.

But the moment I walked past him, a strong scent of freesia hit me.

After my shower, I replied to an email—a recommendation from my mentor a week ago for a painting instructor position at the University of the Arts Berlin.

It was a rare opportunity.

Back then, I'd chosen love over my career.

But Bennett had let me down.

I filled out the application, sent it off, and went to sleep.

When I woke, it was evening.

Bennett stood in front of the mirror, tying his tie.

He wore a black coat that he rarely wore, with a slight smile on his lips.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

He stopped, the smile fading. "Last-minute class reunion. I couldn't cook. I ordered takeout for you. Don't forget to eat."

He grabbed his keys and left without another word.

I watched him go, stunned.

By 11 p.m., he still wasn't back.

My phone buzzed—another post from Sharlene Morrow.

"My first love drove me home, and his car broke down. Is fate trying to bring us together?"

In the photo, Bennett, in his black coat, was on the phone before his car.

Their college friends had flooded the comments.

"Sharlene and Bennett were the ultimate power couple. Can't believe they're reconnecting after all these ten years!"

"I still remember him standing in the rain for an afternoon, begging her to stay. So intense."

"Wow, strong couples find their way back to each other."

"True love wins!"

Someone shared a Reddit link about their relationship.

I clicked the link and read about Sharlene and Bennett's three-year relationship.

They were classmates in college and initially constantly at odds, always competing for the top academic spot.

Eventually, they ended up together.

For four years, they were perfectly matched.

But after graduation, Sharlene moved abroad.

The day she left, Bennett stood in the rain outside her dorm for an entire afternoon, begging her to stay.

She didn't.

I couldn't picture it.

The Bennett they described wasn't the man I knew.

I closed my phone, my chest tight with pain.

No wonder he never talked about the past to me.

How could he ever love someone else after a romantic relationship like that?

I remembered him smiling at the mirror and thought of the saying, "If I'm seeing you at four, I'm already smiling at three."

My phone rang.

It was Xavier Turner, Bennett's best friend.

I answered. He was drunk, his words slurred.

"Congrats, Benny! You finally got Lena back. I knew you were waiting for her."

Just then, Bennett returned.

He took off his shoes and walked in. Seeing me holding the phone, he asked, "Who are you talking to?"

Expressionless, I turned on the speakerphone.

Xavier, slurring his words, continued, "All these years you didn't marry Madeline, wasn't it just because you were waiting for Lena? Now that she's back, stop waiting. Get back with her before you lose your chance again.

"I still remember our promise—when you and Lena get married, I'll be your best man!"

After he finished, I looked calmly at Bennett.

"Your friend was trying to reach you. He called me by mistake."

The room fell silent.

Bennett's expression tightened slightly. He stepped forward, took the phone from my hand, and ended the call.

"He's drunk and talking nonsense. Don't pay any attention to him."

"Really?" I asked softly. "Then who is Sharlene?"

Bennett was silent for a few seconds. "A girlfriend from college. She just transferred to our hospital from abroad. Xavier heard some rumors and jumped to conclusions.

"It's all in the past. Don't overthink it."

Lowering my head, I thought bitterly, "An ex-girlfriend he left our engagement party for, someone he postponed our wedding for... He claimed it's all in the past.

"Was he trying to deceive me, or himself?"

I didn't say anything more and moved past him toward my studio.

"Maddie?" Bennett called out again.

I turned to look at him. "When did we reschedule the wedding for?" he asked.

Almost instinctively, I gave him a date. "The third of next month."

Then I realized that was the day I went abroad.

I opened my mouth but didn't explain further.

Maybe it was better for Bennett to find out there was no wedding on the day I left.

The next day, when I left the studio, dawn was just breaking.

Bennett had already left for work.

Breakfast was laid out on the living room table with a sticky note beside it.

"Heat it before you eat."

In five years of our relationship, he was always this considerate.

But I always felt something unspoken between us.

I never understood what it was before. Now, I did.

His quiet nature wasn't innate. It was because he had nothing to say to me.

All the excuses I'd desperately made for him became laughable after he abandoned me at our engagement party for Sharlene.

I put the note down. My phone rang.

It was my agent, Martina Wagner.

"Maddie, are you free today? Someone is insisting on buying the centerpiece painting from your exhibition. Can you come down?" she asked the moment I answered.

I paused. The centerpiece was the first painting I'd ever done of Bennett—a view of his back.

I'd told Martina before the show that I wouldn't sell that one, only that one.

But now, keeping it meant nothing.

"Just sell it," I said. "Sell all the paintings related to Bennett, actually."

Martina sounded shocked. "What's going on? First the wedding, now this... Did you and Dr. Webster fight?"

I gave a weak smile.

"No. I just finally see things clearly. The things I valued had never been important."

At least, I was never important to Bennett.

I didn't say that part out loud.

Martina was quiet for a moment. "Okay. I understand."

After we hung up, the doorbell rang.

Our wedding photos had arrived from the bridal shop.

I opened the package and looked closely.

Bennett stood in his black suit, his expression cool and detached.

I wore my white dress, beaming, my arm linked through his.

Only now did I see it—there wasn't a hint of a smile on Bennett's face.

He didn't look happy at all in his wedding photo.

The irony cut deep.

So this was what it looked like when a man married the wrong woman.

I left the photo in a corner and went to my studio.

The room was full of sketches and paintings of Bennett.

A half-finished drawing still sat on the easel.

Each image felt like a weight pressing on my heart.

Now I finally understood my teacher's warning about never painting someone as we liked.

I realized that what I thought was a portrait of them was actually a reflection of my own heart.

My hands shook as I gathered every drawing I'd made of him.

The last one was from his birthday last year.

I carried the stack to the backyard and lit a match.

The flames caught the paper, burning away his handsome face and what remained of my heart.

"Goodbye, Bennett," I whispered to the fire, my tears falling into the embers.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Bennett.

"Maddie, emergency surgery. Won't be home. Eat yourself."

I gripped the phone and didn't reply.

Martina called again, sounding apologetic. "Maddie, my son is sick. I have to go to the hospital. But the buyer needs the painting tonight.

"Can you drop it off? I'll send you the address."

I looked at the dying fire. "Okay."

I put out the ashes, drove to the gallery, picked up the painting, and went to the address Martina sent.

I knocked on the door, the painting in my arms.

A woman's voice called from inside.

"Benny, can you get that? It must be my painting."

I froze, the name hanging in the air. Before I could move, the door opened.

Bennett stood in the doorway, dressed in casual clothes.

We stared at each other, Bennett frozen in the doorway.

A heavy silence filled the space between us.

Before he could speak, footsteps sounded in a room.

Sharlene walked out, wearing a soft cream-colored nightgown. She noticed the painting in my arms and smiled warmly. "Oh, my painting arrived! Benny, tell this lady to come in.

"Thank you for bringing it so late. Please, come in for a moment. Can I get you something to drink?"

Sharlene was the one who bought the painting.

"That's alright," I said, shaking my head. I handed her the painting before turning to leave. "My job was just to deliver it. I should be going."

Bennett finally found his voice. "Wait..."

I didn't turn back, stepping directly into the elevator.

As the elevator doors slid shut, I leaned back against the cold metal wall and finally unclenched my hands, noticing the stinging crescents my nails had left in my palms.

Bennett, who had texted me about a late surgery just an hour ago, was here in Sharlene's apartment.

What were they doing tonight?

What had they been doing right before I rang the bell?

My mind was racing. I didn't dare stop, walking faster and faster away from the building.

I had just reached the sidewalk when I heard Sharlene's voice behind me.

"Wait! You forgot the receipt."

I took the slip of paper. "Thanks," I said, my voice tight.

"Can I ask you something? Why were you so set on buying that particular painting?"

Sharlene smiled. "The man in the painting reminded me of my first love, the man you just saw.

"We were together in college. He had a blue shirt like that, one he wore all the time until it practically faded.

"I chose my career over him back then. It's one of my biggest regrets.

"I came back hoping to fix that mistake. I didn't want to live with that regret.

"Having the painting delivered tonight felt symbolic. I hoped it might remind him of our time together."

Her words made it hard to breathe.

"After all this time, doesn't it concern you that he might be with someone else? That he might be married?"

Her next sentence hit me like a physical blow.

"No. I made some discreet inquiries at the hospital. Everyone there says he's single.

"I suppose it's meant to be..."

I stood frozen on the spot, the night air feeling icy, seeping deep into my bones.

Now I could understand. No wonder not a single one of Bennett's colleagues had been at our engagement party.

After five years, he had never told any of them about me.

I didn't remember the drive home.

I sat in the large, silent, empty house and cried until there were simply no tears left.

It was only then that Bennett finally returned.

He looked at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan to lie.

"Lena needed help with her move today. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea.

"Please believe me. It's strictly a colleague relationship. Once she's settled, aside from necessary work interactions, there will be nothing else."

I looked at him attentively.

It was never easy to choose between the one who loved you and the one you loved.

I thought, "Bennett, if you can't bring yourself to choose, then I'll choose for you."

"It's fine. I get it.

"Honestly, if I were you, I'd probably help her too."

Bennett seemed taken aback by my calmness, by my lack of anger or tears.

After a pause, he asked, "Why did you sell the painting?"

I paused as I stood up. "She made a very generous offer," I said flatly. "The price was right."

Bennett reached out and held my wrist. "Maddie, don't be angry. If you want it back, I'm sure I can get it from Lena."

I shook my head. "No. It's obvious she values that painting a great deal.

"I wouldn't want to take that away from her."

I wouldn't fight for a painting. And I wouldn't fight for a man, either.

I pulled my wrist from his grasp and continued up the stairs.

"The hospital is having its annual gala on Sunday," Bennett said. "Will you come with me?"

I paused. For five years, I'd wanted an invitation like this, a chance to be part of his professional world.

He was finally asking, on the very day it no longer mattered.

Some chances, once missed, were simply gone. The hurt they left behind couldn't be undone.

"No, I'm busy this weekend."

Rejected again, Bennett frowned slightly. "The whole weekend?"

"Yes," I replied. "The whole weekend."

I was busy with my visa paperwork, packing my bags, and saying goodbye to him.

The weekend arrived, but Bennett didn't go to the hospital gala.

He spent the whole day with me, from making me breakfast in the morning to lying in bed together at night.

This was unprecedented.

Bennett had always been intensely dedicated to his work, sometimes going entire years without proper time off.

Later, his schedule had become somewhat more flexible.

Yet he'd never had much time for me, because in Bennett's priorities, his career and personal pursuits consistently came first.

Now there was Sharlene.

As for why he could be available today, it was his guilt, most likely, to compensate for abandoning me at our engagement party, to make up for postponing our wedding, and for all those lies.

He certainly had reason to feel guilty, but his remorse no longer mattered to me.

My thoughts were wandering when Bennett moved closer, his arm circling my waist.

His warm breath brushed my ear, his voice tender. "Maddie..."

I subtly turned away from his kiss. "It's that time of the month. I'm not feeling well."

Bennett paused, glancing at the calendar. "But you're not due until the 19th. Is it early?"

I'd forgotten. Bennett always kept track of my cycle, and under his care, it had been remarkably regular.

I looked away uncomfortably. "Mmm," I murmured vaguely.

He didn't press further, releasing me and getting up.

"I'll make you some hot chocolate. It'll help you warm up."

Watching him leave, I felt conflicted.

How could someone be so attentive yet unwilling to truly love you?

Within half an hour, Bennett returned with a steaming mug.

"Let it cool a bit before drinking. Finish it and get some rest.

"The hospital just sent some patient files. I need to review them in the study. Don't wait up for me."

I nodded, watching him depart.

I drank the hot chocolate and drifted into a sleep.

Sometime later, the sound of the electronic lock startled me awake.

His side of the bed was empty. I got up and checked the study, but no one was there either.

Bennett had gone out.

What could require his attention this late?

In the past, I would have immediately assumed an emergency surgery.

Now, I wasn't so sure.

I picked up my phone and opened Sharlene's Twitter.

Sure enough, she'd posted two minutes ago.

"Spontaneous sunrise trip! So grateful for a certain man who humors my whims and makes all my wishes come true."

The attached chat screenshot clearly showed Bennett's profile picture.

Sleep was impossible after that. I stood by the window until the chilly dawn air cleared my thoughts, then returned to the bedroom to pack.

I removed my engagement ring and placed it in the study desk drawer, returning it to Bennett.

I took out a scrapbook filled with his handwritten notes and fed every page into the shredder.

I continued packing and clearing out my belongings methodically.

As I was placing my suitcase in the corner, Bennett returned with the morning dew still fresh on his clothes.

He met my gaze, his lips tightening briefly. "When did you wake up?"

I lied calmly. "Just now. Where were you?"

He relaxed slightly. "Morning run. The air was great today."

Hearing this, I nearly laughed bitterly.

When had our relationship become nothing but lies?

Bennett wiped the light sweat from his brow and headed to the kitchen.

"Still having cramps? What would you like to eat? I'll make it for you."

I was about to decline when the doorbell rang.

Bennett turned and opened the door, stopping short. "Mom, Dad? What brings you here?"

Seeing Edmund Webster and Quintina Webster, I felt immediate apprehension.

Sure enough, Quintina spoke first, frowning. "Benny, what's happening with you and Maddie? Why was the wedding cancelled?"

Bennett looked stunned. "Who said it was cancelled?"

Quintina showed him her phone. "It was Maddie's message. Look, this is what your aunt received."

The screen clearly showed the notification I'd sent days earlier.

Bennett's expression tightened. He turned to me.

"Maddie, is this true?"

I remained silent, considering how to respond.

But Bennett thought he understood. He turned back to his parents. "The wedding isn't cancelled, just rescheduled. Maddie must not have worded it clearly, causing confusion.

"Mom, Dad, please go home. We'll send the official date soon. Maddie and I are getting married."

Somewhat reassured, his parents left.

Watching Bennett's convincing performance, I felt nothing but bitter irony.

Anyone watching would think he was genuinely committed to this marriage.

Yet he was the one who had left me standing alone at our engagement party, the one who had postponed our wedding.

After his parents drove away, Bennett turned to me with a remorseful expression.

"I'm truly sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have left you dealing with everything alone at the party.

"Don't worry, nothing will interfere this time. The wedding will happen without any issues."

I said nothing, wondering, "Without issues? Unlikely.

"This time, Bennett, I'll be the one walking away."

His phone rang suddenly.

I recognized the ringtone immediately, "Mariage d'amour", a piece I'd never heard him use before.

Bennett answered. In the quiet house, Sharlene's voice came through clearly.

"Benny, I fell in the bathroom. Could you take me to the hospital?"

Bennett hesitated, his eyes darting toward me.

After a moment, he covered the receiver, whispering, "Lena doesn't know many people here since she just returned, so I..."

"Go."

I cut him off, unable to bear another justification.

His lips tightened. "I'll just take her to the hospital and come straight back."

Then he was gone.

I watched him disappear through the doorway, acutely aware that the part of my heart reserved for Bennett was being surgically removed.

Bennett didn't return for days.

The only message I received that evening stated he was dealing with an important surgical case and wouldn't be back soon.

Was there really surgery? Or was he with Sharlene?

I could no longer distinguish truth from lies in anything he said.

Not that it surprised me anymore. Nor did I care.

His promises always seemed to have exceptions when it came to Sharlene.

For me, they never seemed to apply.

I stopped thinking about him and focused on clearing out the rest of my belongings.

The process proved more difficult than expected.

Bennett, with his medical background, maintained everything in perfect order.

Yet he allowed me to disrupt his meticulously organized closet.

He let me wedge my colorful, chaotic sketches between the pages of his valuable medical textbooks.

He'd even cleared half of his desk space for my comic books.

I remembered asking him tentatively back then, "Am I distracting you?"

The corner of his mouth had twitched, or perhaps I'd imagined it.

"No. Having you nearby is comforting."

It had been one of our rare, genuinely peaceful moments.

How could I not have mistaken his tolerance for something deeper?

But tolerance was just tolerance, not love.

Pulling myself back to the present, I continued gathering my sketches.

A book slipped from the pile and hit the floor, scattering photographs and letters across the hardwood.

I bent to collect them, but froze when I saw what they were.

These were photographs of Bennett and Sharlene from their college years.

The letters were their old love notes, exchanged during that time.

The photos and letters had yellowed slightly with age, yet their edges remained perfectly smooth.

He had kept them meticulously intact.

Compared to this careful preservation, Bennett's everyday kindness toward me was nothing worth mentioning.

The way he treated me differed little from how he might treat any patient.

Suppressing the ache in my chest, I put everything back exactly where it had been, pretending I'd never seen any of it.

Exhausted, I finally collapsed into bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

I was awakened late that night by Quintina's call.

Her voice was tense with panic. "Maddie, is Benny alright? Is his hand injured?"

I was completely confused. "What are you talking about?"

A sharp silence fell, and then her voice rose. "You don't know? It's all over Twitter! How can you not know what's happened to your own fiancé?"

I quickly opened Twitter. The top trending story glared back at me in bold red text.

"New York Mount Sinai Hospital Patient Attack: Surgeon Shields a Woman from Knife Assault"

The video showed an agitated man lunging toward Sharlene with a blade. Bennett pulled her behind him, raising his arm to block the attack.

The knife sliced clean through his sleeve.

It had been close.

A few inches lower, and it would have severed the tendons in his wrist, ending his career forever.

The video had been posted hours earlier.

By now, the hospital had issued a statement confirming the assailant was in custody, and no medical staff were injured.

Public attention had swiftly shifted to Bennett and Sharlene.

Both were attractive, and soon their college romance was dug up online, with countless netizens declaring them a perfect match.

"They're so perfect for each other! A surgeon risking his hands? That's true love. Can they just get married already?"

"I just read their story on Reddit. It's the ultimate second-chance romance!"

"Fate keeps pulling them back together after all these years, making them realize they never stopped loving each other... Seriously, someone needs to write this love story!"

Reading these comments, I finally spoke into the phone, realizing Quintina was still on the line.

"I understand, Mrs. Webster. I'll go check on him right now."

After hanging up, I drove to the hospital.

I found my way to his office. Just as I reached the door, I heard Sharlene's muffled sobs from inside.

"This is all my fault. I shouldn't have gotten involved. Your hand was nearly injured..."

A faint red mark was shown on his arm where the knife had sliced through his sleeve.

But Bennett seemed unconcerned, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

Sharlene took the opportunity to hug him.

Bennett seemed to stiffen for a second, but he didn't push her away.

They stood there quietly embracing, while I leaned against the wall outside his office, feeling completely numb.

I turned and slipped into the stairwell.

I waited until Sharlene left before walking into Bennett's office.

He looked surprised to see me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your parents saw the news online and are worried," I said flatly. "You should call them."

I turned to leave.

"Wait!" Bennett stood up quickly, catching my arm. "Are you angry?"

I shook my head. "No."

His hands and career were his own business. If he wanted to risk them for Sharlene, that was his choice.

It had nothing to do with me.

Bennett was quiet for a long moment before speaking suddenly. "Maybe we should just keep our original wedding date."

The suggestion took me by surprise.

"That date was three days ago. It's passed."

He looked uncertain. "I must have the dates mixed up... Let's go home together."

He finished speaking with a soft exhale that could have been either weariness or relief.

I heard it but chose to ignore it.

When we arrived home, Bennett noticed the change immediately. "You've cleaned?"

To remove all traces of myself, I'd have to clean the entire house.

Now, nearly everything visible belonged to him alone.

"You prefer things tidy."

He pressed his lips together, a vague unease settling over him that he couldn't quite explain.

"You didn't need to do all this. I could have helped when I got back..."

Quintina called me again.

I handed my phone to him and retreated to the bedroom.

The calendar showed my departure date circled.

I picked up a pen and crossed out today's date.

Two days remained.

As I finished, Bennett entered with my phone.

I reached for it without noticing his troubled expression. "Finished? Let's get some sleep."

But he held the phone tighter. "You got a message. Your passport is ready for pickup.

"Are you planning a trip? Where are you going?"

I hesitated, caught off guard by the timing.

"Yes, I'm going abroad. There are major exhibitions in Marseille and Paris."

Bennett relaxed his grip on my phone. "I see.

"Did you send the new wedding date to our guests yet?"

"Let's discuss it tomorrow. It's too late tonight." I took my phone and slipped it under my pillow before turning off the light.

That night, neither of us broke the silence, though we both lay awake.

We lay beside each other but lived in separate worlds. There was no going back to what we once were.

I didn't know when I finally fell asleep.

I woke to Bennett moving urgently around the bedroom.

He was losing his usual composure, struggling into his clothes as if rushing to an emergency.

"What does Sharlene need now?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

He froze, staring at me for a long moment. "Maddie..."

Then he asked a strange question. "Maddie, was this your doing?"

I frowned. "Was what my doing?"

He immediately looked away, shaking his head. "Nothing. Lena's dealing with a complicated situation involving me. I have to go."

With that, he hurried out.

Shortly after he left, I noticed a flood of direct messages on my Twitter.

Opening them, I found messages of support and outrage on my behalf.

That was when I discovered Bennett and Sharlene were trending again.

But this time, the comments were brutal.

Someone had uncovered photos from my engagement party alongside the date.

When compared with the day Sharlene posted her photo, the timelines matched perfectly.

Now, everyone quickly realized Bennett had left our engagement party to be with Sharlene.

The "perfect couple" they had adored for less than a day came crashing down.

Bennett became the cheating villain.

Sharlene became the homewrecker.

The same voices that had celebrated them yesterday were now full of condemnation.

"His fiancée must be devastated. Left at the party while he ran to another woman."

"That's Madeline Brook! The renowned painter!"

"If someone like Madeline can be betrayed, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

Suddenly, I understood Bennett's strange question.

He thought I had orchestrated the online backlash against Sharlene.

I turned off my phone, a bitter smile touching my lips.

After five years together, his question proved he had never truly understood me.

If he had, he would have understood I had no tolerance for betrayal.

The moment I discovered it, I walked away.

I finished my preparations, collected my passport, and returned home.

Tomorrow was departure day.

That evening, I cooked dinner, thinking I'd share one final meal with Bennett.

But the food grew cold without him returning.

I did see him online, though.

He and Sharlene had posted a clarification video that nobody believed, because the final key player, me, had remained silent.

At 11 PM, Bennett finally called.

He sounded exhausted. "Maddie, you've seen what's happening online?

"You know Lena and I were innocent. Could you ... post something to clarify things?"

I looked at the plane ticket and passport on my desk. "Alright," I said quietly.

"I'll post something in the morning."

He audibly relaxed. "Thank you for understanding. I can't come back yet, but once this settles, I'll make it up to you.

"I've requested time off for our honeymoon. You wanted to see those exhibitions abroad, right? We'll go together."

I started to speak, but Sharlene called him away.

"Benny, I need you!"

"I have to go," he said abruptly, hanging up.

Staring at the dark screen, I finally whispered the words I hadn't been able to say.

"I don't need it, Bennett.

"My life has nothing to do with you anymore."

The house stood completely still.

The next morning at 7 AM, I wheeled my suitcase to the entryway.

I wheeled my already-packed suitcase to the entryway, documents and ticket in hand.

There, I laid out the house keys, Bennett's credit card, and a letter on the console table.

For a moment, I just stared blankly at that silver key.

He'd given it to me when I moved in, though the digital lock made it unnecessary.

"Maddie," he'd said solemnly, placing the key in my palm, "from today, you're the lady of this house. You hold the key. Whether you use it is your choice."

Now my choice was to be myself again.

The key had served its purpose.

I walked out without looking back.

By 8 AM, I was at the airport.

Before boarding, I opened Twitter and sent out the clarification I had prepared the night before.

There was no actual sound, of course.

But as the signal was transmitted, I could have sworn I heard a faint whooshing in the air, the finality of that single tap.

"Hello, this is Madeline Brook.

"About all the rumors online these past couple of days, I've gotten tons of DMs from fans and followers. So here's my official statement: Sharlene Morrow never came between Bennett Webster and me. She's not any kind of other woman.

"The truth is, Bennett and I were over the moment he left our engagement party.

"Everything that's happened between him and Sharlene since then has nothing to do with me.

"So here's to Bennett and Sharlene: wishing you both all the best."