Yes, why was I still standing there? My mind spun as I blinked, suddenly remembering why I had come—to propose to Carl. I had spent months preparing for this moment. Half a year ago, I asked a mutual friend to help me choose the perfect ring style. I had a dress custom-made, spent hours taking etiquette lessons to walk gracefully in heels, and practiced every word I would say.
I had poured all my energy into looking my best today, believing I would surprise him with the proposal. When I saw the beautifully wrapped gift box on his dressing table earlier, I took it as a sign that we were meant to be. But now, it was clear—the "Dear Dear" on the card wasn’t written for me.
After years of watching TV dramas about love and betrayal, I found myself in the middle of one—a real-life wealthy marriage, unfolding right in front of me. I stared at Carl’s hand resting possessively on Remi’s slim waist, a bitter knot tightening in my chest. My fists clenched at my sides, but instead of letting the anger consume me, I took a deep breath.
Without a word, I pulled out my bank card—the one I’d been using to save up for his ring—and held it out to him.