I’d been with Greg Harrison for eight freakin' years.

Then, three days before our wedding, I found, like, ten thousand pictures of the same girl on his computer.

I secretly booked a flight out of the country for our wedding day.

And quietly watched him act like everything was perfect.

He lost it when I skipped our wedding to elope with freedom.

“Mr. Lee, that opening in the overseas office you mentioned? I’ve decided I want it.”

My boss sounded relieved when I agreed to the training program abroad.

“Great! I’ll submit your application right away. I thought you were getting married soon…”

“Nope, not anymore. Don’t worry about it.”

My voice trembled a little.

I hung up before he could notice, staring at the thousands of photos of that girl on Greg’s computer.

We’d joined the same company after college, working in different departments.

Tonight, he was at his bachelor party. Phone off.

His boss couldn’t reach him but desperately needed the proposal, so he called me.

That's how I stumbled on those pictures when I opened his computer.

Eight years of memories flooded my mind.

All that time, he never had a single picture of me on his phone, no evidence of our relationship anywhere.

Whenever I complained, he’d just say, "We see each other every day. Why do we need pictures?"

Now I get it. I wasn’t important enough.

For eight frickin’ years, I made excuses for his indifference.

I looked like a joke.

I flashed back to what one of Greg’s friends had said when we announced the wedding:

"Wow, I thought you were going to be alone forever because of Chelsea! You're really getting married? Is this for real?"

I didn't notice the guilty look on Greg's face then, I said, "We're doing it for love!"

Now I know why he asked that question. I've never felt so stupid.

I took a few deep breaths and closed the laptop.

I opened my phone to text Greg that we were over, but he hadn’t even replied to the message I sent him a day ago about choosing my wedding dress.

I checked his social media. A black screen. Zero activity.

Just one word under his profile picture.

"Wait."

I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound, and collapsed on the sofa.

I used to think he was just private.

I was such a fool.

I’d asked him about his social media profile a million times, and he'd always dodged the question.

Now I finally knew the answer.

Our simple wedding was three days away. I set the countdown as the dynamic wallpaper on my phone to remind myself every day.

I watched the seconds tick by on the screen, rubbed my burning eyes, and tried to push down the exhaustion.

Just as I was about to book my flight, Greg’s friend called.

“Jamie, Greg's super drunk. Can you come get him? I’ll text you the address.”

I faintly heard Greg's voice slurring “Chelsea” in the background.

My heart clenched.

The guy hung up immediately.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, changed my clothes, and headed to the front door. I noticed Greg's half of the matching keychains I’d gotten us was tossed on the console table.

I had them custom-made with our initials.

He said it was childish and had never used it.

I picked up the keychain and threw it in the trash.

Then, I saw the unopened set of matching mugs under the console.

They mocked my pathetic one-sided love.

A wave of frustration washed over me. I grabbed the trash can and dumped all our couple-y stuff into a garbage bag.

I took a cab to the address his friend sent.

As I reached the door, I heard laughter inside.

“Chelsea, you came back today? Did you hear Greg's getting married and you had to come ruin it?”