A month after my breakup, I was finally moving on when I stumbled upon my sister handing money to my ex-fiancé, the man who shattered my heart.
My heart pounded. Were they together? Was she betraying me? The truth was worse than I ever imagined.
Richard and I met a year ago at a charity event my family’s foundation was hosting. He wasn’t like the other men my parents’ friends tried to set me up with. He was genuine, worked as a graphics designer, and made me laugh until my sides hurt. Within a year, he proposed, and I said yes without hesitation.
“Are you sure about him, Amber?” my mother asked, concern etching her normally composed features. “You barely know his background.”
“I know everything I need to know, Mom,” I replied confidently. “He’s the one.”
To my surprise, my father Robert, who scrutinized every decision I made, welcomed Richard with open arms.
“He’s got character,” Dad said one night after dinner, while Richard helped Mom clear the table. “That’s worth more than any trust fund or family name.”
My sister Jessica was more hesitant initially. “Just be careful,” she whispered when Richard wasn’t listening. “He’s charming… but looks can be deceiving, you know?”
I dismissed her concerns as jealousy. After all, at 27, I was getting married before my older sister. What did she know about love anyway?
“He makes me happy, Jess,” I said firmly. “Can’t that be enough for you?”
Eventually, my family grew to adore Richard and practically worshipped him.
A month before our wedding, I was heading to my hair appointment downtown when I spotted Richard’s car parked outside a small café. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if I hadn’t seen him through the window, leaning across the table and kissing a woman I’d never seen before.
My hand trembled as I parallel parked across the street. The rational part of my brain tried to conjure explanations. Maybe I was seeing things.
But I knew better. I watched for 20 minutes as they laughed, touched hands, and kissed again before leaving together. I canceled my appointment and drove home in a daze.
When Richard came over that night, I couldn’t even look at him.
“You’ve been quiet all evening,” he said, brushing my hair back from my face. “Wedding jitters getting to you?”
I pulled away from his touch. “We need to talk.”
“That sounds ominous,” he laughed, but his eyes darted nervously around the room.
“I don’t think we should get married,” I said, the words tumbling out flat and emotionless. I rehearsed them all afternoon.
Richard’s face paled. “What are you talking about? Is this a joke?”
“I just… I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.” I twisted the engagement ring off my finger and placed it on the coffee table between us.
“Amber, this is crazy. Whatever’s wrong, we can fix it. Just talk to me!”
I shook my head. “I’ve made up my mind. I can’t do this.”
“Is there someone else?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Is that what this is about?”
The irony made me want to scream, but I swallowed it down. If Dad found out Richard had cheated, he would destroy him. Despite everything, I couldn’t bear the thought.
“No one else. We’re just… done.”
“I don’t believe you,” Richard said, his eyes filling with tears that appeared startlingly genuine. “I love you, Amber. Please don’t do this.”
“It’s over, Richard. Leave. Now.”
And that was it. My family was startled by my sudden decision and tried to understand why I did what I did. But I chose to remain silent and buried the truth somewhere deep inside me.
The thought of Richard’s betrayal choked me. But I decided to move on because he wasn’t worth my tears.
For a month after the breakup, I buried myself in work and avoided family gatherings where I had to explain myself. My father called daily, clearly concerned but trying not to push.
“Richard came by the office yesterday,” he mentioned during one call. “He looked terrible, sweetheart. Are you sure there’s nothing to salvage?”
“I’m sure, Dad. Please don’t bring him up again.”
I hadn’t told anyone the truth — not my parents, not even Jessica. As far as they knew, we had simply grown apart. I figured I’d start dating again eventually, and everyone would move on. Richard would become a chapter in my past, nothing more.
Then came that Tuesday afternoon.
I decided to treat myself to lunch at a small Italian place I loved but had avoided since the breakup because it had been “our spot.” I was waiting for my table when I saw them through the window — Jessica and Richard, sitting in a corner booth, heads bent close together.
My first thought was that they were dating, and a surge of betrayal rushed through me. But then Jessica pulled out a leather bag and unzipped it. It was clearly stuffed with cash. She slid it across the table to Richard, who took it with a nod.
I pushed through the door without thinking, marching toward their table. Just before I reached them, I heard Jessica say, “This is from me and my father, as promised!”
“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded, my voice cutting through the restaurant’s gentle hum.
Jessica’s head whipped around, her eyes wide with shock. “Amber! What are you —”
Richard grabbed the bag and stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his water glass. “I should go.”
