Too Late For His Regret Now

Chapter 3

Word Count: 641 | Released on: Today at 18:14

rey

he slats of the blinds. My eyes were raw, bloodshot,

d to the world, letting o

My eyes locked onto the black p

ess. My fingertips were ice cold when they br

keypad appeared, demand

hdate. The screen s

first anniversary. The day he had bought me a

ick

hadn't even bothered to change the password that tied us

app and typed *Carolina

ed. The chat history stretc

bracelet. I saw a screenshot of a three-person group chat with Jeanie, disc

d out my old, cracked phone. My hands were sh

screen, snapping clear, focused photos of every

heavy arm flopping blindly onto the empty s

power button on his phone, plunging the screen i

oherent into his pillow and

phone back on the exact spot on the nig

ilently out of the master bedroom

k against the cheap wood and gasped for air, like

ce of my humiliation. The sharp pain in my chest

room. I grabbed the edge of a dust-cov

with my bare hands. Inside lay a

tudent in my business program. I gave it all up to manage Kieran's hou

yer of dust off the top cover. The ro

ns were filled with my dense, meticulous

t. The ambition I had buried ali

very single book. I stacked them n

d in the URL for the offic

king on the screen. I moved the cursor ove

to get my

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Too Late For His Regret Now

Luo Jiuyuan Modern

“For three years, I, Aubrey, had poured my heart into serving Kieran and his mother, Jeanie. I cooked, cleaned, and endured Jeanie's sharp insults and Kieran's quiet neglect, all while believing I was his fiancée, building a future for us after sacrificing my own professional dreams. This illusion shattered one night when I overheard Jeanie tell Kieran he needed to marry "Carolina" for her family's money, coldly dismissing me as a "free nanny" and a "temporary substitute." Later, I discovered Kieran's phone, unlocked with the password of our anniversary date, filled with six months of intimate texts from Carolina, plans for a bridal fitting, and a cruel group chat with Jeanie plotting my departure. Lying in bed beside him as he texted his true fiancée, the betrayal was a suffocating weight. The last shred of warmth I held for him vanished, replaced by a cold, metallic resolve. The next morning, I calmly photographed every damning piece of evidence. I dug out my dusty CPA textbooks, wiping away three years of neglect, and registered for the exam I'd abandoned for him. My ambition, long buried alive, was suddenly breathing again. It was time to reclaim my life. I would not just leave; I would dismantle everything they built. Watch me burn this house down.”