You Let Me Slip Away and Now I Stand Beyond Your Reach

Three days before the wedding, my fiancé sold the home we'd spent three years preparing for our marriage.

His gang was furious.

"Are you crazy? Just because Jolene wanted that limitededition bag, you sold the house? Does Cynthia even know about this? Where is she supposed to live after the wedding?"

"Exactly! Cynthia oversaw every detail of that place—it's her heart and soul!"

Still, Willard Gray chugged down some wine with an indifferent look.

"She loves me so much. She even nearly lost her life shielding me from a knife back then. Why would she care about a house?"

"Besides, didn't she always say that wherever I am, that's her home? This is the perfect chance to see if she's sincere."

He didn't know that I stood outside the room door while holding hangover pills. After that, I silently turned to leave.

On the wedding day, Willard's calls came like a relentless curse. "Cynthia, where the hell are you? The whole family's waiting!"

I stared out the window at the familiar streetscape. "I already got married and came home a while ago."

——

That house took me three whole years of hard work, starting from drawing the first soft furnishing blueprint. But with just a single utterance of "I want it so badly" from Jolene, Willard sold it off for cash and bought her a bag instead.

I stood outside the door, my hands trembling so badly that even breathing felt painful.

Willard's friend, Jason Ward, couldn't help but ask, "Bro, you should've at least told Cynthia about this! Selling a house isn't easy. When she comes back and finds the home gone, won't she fight you to the death?"

My fiancé just waved his hand impatiently. "Enough already. It's always Cynthia this, Cynthia that. Do you think I'd treat her badly? Worst case, we'll just rent another place."

"But this was your wedding home, it's different. Doing this … really hurts her."

Willard grew more irritable after hearing that. "If she finds out, she'll just cry and pester me with questions. Who's got time for that?"

"She loves me to her core anyway. How could she break up with me over something like that? Don't forget that scar on her body was earned because of me. Selling a house is nothing."

Someone nearby started making faces and teasing. "I understand Willard's thoughts. Isn't this all for Jolene? Well, who wouldn't be tempted by such a beauty?"

"Haha, we even bet back then that Willard would end up marrying her. They were a perfect match, a match made in heaven."

Willard's expression darkened. "Shut up, all of you. Don't let Cynthia hear this. If she makes a fuss, I won't let you off."

Sadly, the crowd laughed even harder.

"Alright, alright, we won't say anything. You're awesome, Willard. You've got Cynthia wrapped around your finger."

As soon as he finished speaking, Willard's phone rang and Jolene's name appeared on the screen.

The surrounding crowd instantly fell silent, their eyes filled with knowing glances. "The real owner is here," whispered one of them.

Willard didn't object. His lips curled up, his voice instantly softening an octave.

On the other end of the line, Jolene's voice was sweet and coy. "Willard, did you really buy the 'Starry Sky' for me? I heard that bag was auctioned for three million!"

"Yes, it's already paid for. It'll be delivered to you next week."

"But ... isn't that too extravagant?"

"Just three million. As long as it makes you happy, it's worth every penny."

A satisfied sigh came from Jolene's end. "You're too good to me. Once I get the bag, I'll show it off to you first!"

Willard smiled so hard, his eyes squinted. "Alright, I'll be waiting."

The moment he hung up, his friends swarmed around him.

"Three million for a bag? Willard, are you trying to have Jolene move into the new house with just a bag in hand? Does Cynthia know about this?"

Willard casually picked up a bottle of wine. "Cynthia and I have been together for years. She doesn't care about these things, but Jolene is different. She's so delicate and fragile, I have to make her feel secure."

I still stood outside the door, but my heart turned completely cold.

I hunted down every piece of furniture in our future home at discount stores across the entire city. When I was in love with the $20,000 couch at the time, Willard's face instantly darkened.

"Twenty thousand for a couch? Do you think money grows on trees? Isn't sitting on the floor just the same?"

He then chose another couch, but he was still unhappy when he paid for it, although it only cost 1888 dollars.

It turned out he wasn't stingy; it's just that his generosity had never been meant for me.

On the way home, I rolled the car window all the way down. The wind rushed in violently, stinging my face.

Three years. I'd been a fool for three whole years.

When I first said I wanted to personally design our home, he hugged me and spun me around, saying, "Okay."

At that moment, I truly believed he cherished me above all else.

He remembered, he had to remember.

He must remember that day, when a thug's knife came at him and I unhesitatingly blocked it for him, the wound only a centimeter away from my heart. It made me lie unconscious in the hospital for three days and nights while he wept at my bedside, swearing he'd love me forever.

Sadly, he never truly cared. Or, maybe in his mind, that scar was just a reason for him to be more reckless.

The doctor had warned me that extreme emotional swings could aggravate the nerves around the old wound.

So, I tilted my head back with all my might, trying to suppress the bitterness. Still, my chest felt suffocated.

Later, Willard's call came through with the blaring rock music roaring in the background. "Cynthia, tonight the brothers are throwing me a bachelor party. Go to bed early, don't wait up."

I was silent for two seconds, then answered. "Okay."

At one a.m., I found myself unable to sleep, so I decided to check my social media.

Jasper Zorn had posted a set of photos with the caption: [Celebrating my best bro's last night of freedom!]

In the center photo of the grid, Jolene Star was laughing joyously while holding a glittering bag. She's leaning almost entirely against Willard, whose hand rests firmly around her waist.

The comments section below exploded.

[OMG, isn't that the 'Starry Sky' bag? Willard, you are so generous!]

[These two look so perfect together. What a shame.]

[@Willard, you should be careful. Don't let Cynthia see this!]

I saw Willard personally reply. [Cynthia isn't petty. If she'd make a fuss over something like this, we might as well call off the wedding.]

I shut my phone off expressionlessly.

Willard knew I wouldn't dare, just as he knew I could endure him selling our house, endure him buying Jolene a milliondollar bag and endure every ambiguous excuse of "we're just friends."

But this time, the place in my heart where the knife had pierced seemed numb and I didn't want to endure it anymore.

In the end, I went to the hospital alone for a followup checkup.

"How many times have I told you that the wound will hurt on rainy days and that someone must accompany you to apply the medicine on time?"

Listening to the attending doctor's helpless scolding, I forced a smile. "I can manage by myself."

Shortly after leaving the hospital, a torrential downpour suddenly began.

I ducked into a dessert shop on the corner and as I turned, I saw Willard holding a spoon with a beaming smile while Jolene leaned in and took a bite of the cake he was offering.

That limitededition platinum bag was slung across her arm, still gleaming. And the watch on her wrist was the gift Willard had claimed last week was "for an important client."

I pulled out a mocking smile and ran home through the pouring rain.

When Willard came back, I had just finished my shower and my hair was still dripping wet. He froze when he saw me. "What happened? You look like a drowned rat."

"I went to the hospital," I said.

His expression instantly froze. "Why did you go to the hospital today?"

I chuckled, "I've told you this so many times."

Willard ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. "I've been so busy lately, I forgot. Anyway, your injury's healed, skipping one visit won't kill you."

I watched him in silence. "The doctor said if I don't take proper care of it, it might flare up again."

That man fell silent, his eyes flashing with irritation when he looked up again. "Are you trying to bring up that scar again?"

So, my reminder had become a bargaining chip for him to take credit.

Willard became furious when I remained silent. "Why are you giving me that expression again? I just didn't go with you to the hospital. Do you have to be so dramatic?"

I glanced at his shirt collar and murmured, "You forgot to wipe the cream off your collar."

Willard instinctively reached for his collar, but then his hand froze midair. "You … "

I slowly added, "The watch on Jolene's wrist suits her well."

His face instantly turned a deep shade of red. He pointed at me, shaking with anger. "You followed me, huh? Cynthia Serrano, are you sick? She just got back to the country and isn't used to things yet. What's wrong with me taking her out to clear her head?"

"She's been alone since she was a child, with no one to depend on. She's so pitiful! All she has is me!"

"Why do you have to be so nitpicky? Is that funny?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, that's funny. I was alone when I went to the hospital, too and you didn't seem to feel sorry for me."

Willard's face flushed red as he tried to justify himself. "How can you compare yourself to her? Besides, when have I ever not cared about you? Do you really need me to tag along every time?"

Before he could finish, his phone rang again. It was Jolene.

Willard hurriedly answered and then Jolene's tearful voice came through the phone. "Willard, I think I caught a fever from the rain. I feel so dizzy."

"Wait for me at home, I'll be there right away!"

He hung up, not even bothering to look at me before heading for the door. When he reached the doorway, he turned back and threw out a final line. "You stay at home and think about what you did. Tomorrow, you'll come with me to order the flowers for the wedding banquet."

"And stop doing cheap things like spying on me. It really makes you look bad."

Willard had left, but his words kept buzzing in my ears. Look bad?

He was so right. Only now did I realize that my heart must've gone blind a long time ago.

On the way to the florist, the air in the car felt suffocating. So, I put on my headphones and turned my head toward the window.

Willard tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. "Actually, the houses down in the south of the city aren't bad either. Convenient location, good neighborhood."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. Seeing that I was ignoring him, he cleared his throat and raised his voice. "I heard they're new buildings with a better environment. A lot of young people like to rent there. How about we go take a look?"

I responded with a snort while my eyes were still closed.

Willard's brows furrowed, his voice filled with frustration. "Cynthia, I'm talking to you!"

I slowly opened my eyes. "I'm listening. What then?"

He instantly looked like a deflated balloon. "Uh, nothing, I was just saying."

At that moment, the wind that blew in through the car window cleared my head a bit.

"Willard, about the house. Do you have something to tell me?"

I stared at his profile, giving him one last chance. Unfortunately, he avoided my gaze and replied flatly, "No, isn't it all up to you?"

I lowered my eyes, my heart sinking completely.

He was still pretending and unwilling to tell me even a single truth. Even at this point, if he were willing to tell the truth, I might still ... no, it's impossible now.

I clenched my fists. So, this was the ruthless trampling I had fought so desperately to earn.

Willard seemed to notice something, rubbing his nose guiltily. He must be thinking that I must have found out and was giving him the cold shoulder on purpose. Then, he would coax me a bit after we got married.

Right next to the flower shop was a furniture store. I walked straight inside and saw that the walnut dining table I had ordered was ready.

Just as I was about to pay, a sweet, highpitched voice sounded from behind me. "Willard? Didn't you say you'd come with me today to pick out a crystal chandelier?"

Why was she again?

Jolene saw me and exaggeratedly covered her mouth. "Oh, Cynthia? I'm so sorry, I have bad eyesight, I didn't see you."

"Wait, are you here for furniture, too? By the way, this store's crystal chandeliers are gorgeous, perfect for a big flat! Willard even mentioned wanting to install one in my new place last time!"

My fingers curled inward one by one. Willard had already found Jolene a new place, while I, foolishly clinging to an empty shell he had long sold off, was still waiting for an explanation.

Jolene picked up a brochure. "Cynthia, look at this one. It's imported from Italy. It would look amazing in the entryway!"

I took a step back, avoiding the brochure she was offering me. "No, thanks. I've already made my choice. You two take your time."

That girl froze for a second, her eyes instantly welling up with tears as if she had been deeply wronged. "Do you ... not want me here? Then I'll just leave."

Willard grabbed Jolene's hand as he said, "Why are you leaving? This has nothing to do with her."

He turned and glared at me. "Cynthia, Jolene will be our family from now on. Can you please be more polite to her? Don't bring your outside attitude home!"

I was stunned. Family? What kind of family? How did I, the lady of the house, not know about this?

Then I thought about it. If Willard could sell our shared home without a second thought, why would he need my permission for anything else?

"She's only good at playing those little mind games with you. If you want to leave, just leave. Why make such a big scene out of it?"

They both froze, clearly not expecting my bluntness. Jolene looked so hurt that she was on the verge of tears. "Fine, I'll leave now. I won't bother you anymore."

But Willard held her even tighter. "Cynthia, we're about to get married. Can't you act a little more mature?"

"From the engagement till now, have you ever given me a single day of warmth? And now you're dragging Jolene into this, too?"

Jolene tugged at him softly from the side, yet pressed closer against him. "Willard, don't say anymore."

Alas, Willard's emotions completely exploded.

"I'm going to say it! I've had enough! Cynthia, keep acting up! Don't let this petty nonsense tear open your old wounds again. Don't blame me for not warning you when it happens!"

The store fell silent instantly. Those sales assistants awkwardly lowered their heads to tidy merchandise.

My heart felt like it had been tossed into an ice cave. Hence, in Willard's eyes, my scar was just a tool for attentionseeking tantrums.

How could I foolishly hope he'd kept his old promises close to his heart? Just as the scar remained etched on my skin.

How many times had Jolene called, saying she was "in a bad mood" or "couldn't sleep," and Willard would drop everything to be with her?

Meanwhile, when my wound became infected and I had a high fever, Willard was busy accompanying Jolene to a midnight movie and he only replied, "Drink more hot water. I'll be there after I finish." However, he never showed up that entire night.

Whenever I complained, Willard would frown and say, "Why are you so unreasonable? Jolene is all alone. She needs me!"

On our third anniversary, Willard promised to take me back to the small town where we first met.

I joyfully planned the trip, but he completely forgot about it. He even said lightly, "It's just an anniversary. We can celebrate next time, right?"

Yet for Jolene's birthdays, Willard started planning half a month in advance. Started with booking the most expensive restaurants, giving limitededition gifts and even flaunting it on social media with a caption, [Happy birthday to the most important little princess in my life.]

The memories of the past blended with the scene in front of me, leaving me utterly exhausted. I should have let go a long time ago.

I turned and walked away, but Willard's gentle voice followed me from behind. "She's probably just dealing with prewedding jitters. You're above this, don't stoop to her level."

How considerate of him, even preparing excuses for me.

Through the glass display window, I saw him tenderly holding Jolene's hand, leading her to that exorbitantly priced crystal chandelier. The sight was so blinding I couldn't bear to watch.

That evening, Willard sent me a voice message. "Cynthia, stop throwing a tantrum. I'm out here working hard every day, only to come home to your cold shoulder. This really hurts me."

"We're about to become family. I hope you can understand."

His voice sounded slightly slurred and he kept rambling on afterward, but I didn't want to listen anymore.

He was the hardestworking, the one most in need of understanding. So, I'd make him happy by granting his wish.

The day before the wedding, Willard probably couldn't hold it in any longer and finally called me. "Cynthia, have you confirmed all the procedures before and after the wedding? Tomorrow we'll go to the City Hall first, then to the wedding venue. You know the exact schedule, right?"

I nodded in agreement while stuffing the last item into my suitcase. "Yes, I know everything."

Willard looked visibly relaxed. "Good, that's good. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

The next day, I changed into a simple white shirt instead of the $800 wedding dress he thought was too expensive.

A car horn blared downstairs and my phone buzzed simultaneously.

Willard's voice sounded urgent. "Cynthia, Jolene is having some trouble with her move, so I need to go help her and I won't have time to pick you up."

"Just take a taxi to the City Hall first. It's just for the marriage certificate, anyway. I'll head over later."

I calmly replied, "Okay."

That man paused, as if he sensed something was off. "You're … not upset, are you?"

"No, you go ahead."

After that, he hung up and let out a sigh of relief. He turned to Jolene in the passenger seat. "All set. Let's finish moving your stuff first."

Jolene pouted, her face full of grievances. "I'm sorry, Willard, it's all my fault for delaying you getting married."

Willard reached out and ruffled her hair. "Silly girl, your matters are more important than anything else."

Yet deep down, a vague unease lingered. My calmness just then felt unusually strange.

Willard thought inwardly, "Forget it, maybe he's figured it out and knows I have feelings for her. I'll make it up to her after we get married."

Outside City Hall, all the relatives and friends had arrived, but neither the bride nor any of her family members showed up.

Willard arrived late with Jolene and his heart sank at the sight. "How could this happen. Did Cynthia get lost or forget?"

He dared not think further. Willard immediately dialed my number repeatedly, but no one answered. He tugged at his tie in frustration, his expression darkening by the second.

Finally, the call connected. Willard practically screamed into the phone. "Cynthia, where the hell are you? The whole family's waiting!"

I stared out the window at the familiar streetscape. "I already got married and came home a while ago."