Fiancée for Seven Years, Left for His ExChapter 1

One month before the wedding, Jason's ex-girlfriend sent him her 'final wishlist.'

To fulfill her wishes, Jason Reed went bungee jumping, skiing, visiting Iceland to see the Northern Lights, and even taking wedding photos—posting them proudly on social media.

The caption read:

[Although it’s been many years, I’ve finally made it. I fulfilled her last dream. No regrets in this life.]

I liked the post—then my phone rang.

It was Jason, and he was furious.

"Can’t you be a little more considerate? Do you realize what time it is? Are you still making a fuss about this? Ava’s dying and I’m just trying to help her fulfill some wishes. Can’t you understand that?"

I rolled my eyes, but he didn’t stop there.

"Let’s postpone the wedding," he added like it was the most logical solution.

But what he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was that Ava wasn’t dying at all. I knew for a fact that she was faking it.

Later, on the wedding day, my neighbor, the one who had secretly loved me for years—held a grand wedding abroad and live-streamed it for the world to see.

Chase Thompson, with red eyes and a trembling voice, confronted me. "Are you really going to give up our seven years for him?"

I gave him a look that could cut glass. "I’m just helping my brother fulfill some wishes. Can you understand that?"

——

Emma's POV

"I'm making a big deal out of this? Jason, which eye of yours saw me making a fuss? I just accidentally liked the post. Is it really necessary to start a confrontation over it?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, but the anger was bubbling beneath the surface.

On the other end of the phone, Jason's voice sounded exhausted and irritated. "I...you know I don’t have time for this right now. Ava’s not well, and her emotions are all over the place. I need to be by her side."

"Oh, she’s dying? How tragic," I interrupted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Should I send over flowers or maybe visit her in her ‘final moments’ to see her frail little body?"

"Emma! How can you say that? Ava, she..." Jason tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"She, she, she—bullshit! Jason, wake up! Ava isn’t sick! She’s just playing the victim for sympathy, and you’re falling for it—hook, line, and sinker!" My voice was shaking with rage now.

There was silence on the other end of the line. I could almost see Jason scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration.