My Fiancée Canceled Our Wedding For Her True Love

A week before the wedding, the hotel suddenly notified me that the reception I booked had been canceled. I quickly opened the wedding booking app and scrolled to the order page.

The status showed "Canceled," and the transaction time was three days ago.

To prepare for this wedding, my fiancée, Chloe Vance, and I had stayed up for three consecutive nights, comparing venues one by one and tasting every single dish on the menu.

How could it be canceled? The hotel must have made a mistake.

I dialed the hotel’s number, and they picked up quickly. "Hi, I’m the coordinator for the wedding booked for June 15th." "I just received a notification saying the reception was canceled.

Is there an issue with your system?" The customer service agent paused for a second. "Sir, our records show that a Ms.

Vance came to the front desk in person three days ago to cancel the reservation.

She signed the confirmation paperwork." "Maybe you should doublecheck with her?" The agent’s voice was still echoing in my ear, and my fingers holding the phone felt icecold.

Canceled three days ago? But three days ago, Chloe was still discussing the invitation designs with me.

She was still asking me if I had picked out the color for the groomsmen’s suits.

I hung up, standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the wedding itinerary spread out on the coffee table. The door lock clicked.

I heard the sound of Chloe kicking off her shoes at the entryway. "Lucas, I bought those cinnamon rolls from the bakery you love." Her voice drifted in from the hallway. "I stood in line for half an hour.

I grabbed the very last box!" I stood still and didn’t move. She walked in carrying the bag, a bright smile on her face.

When she looked up and saw me, her smile faltered. "What’s wrong?

Why are you just standing there like a statue?" I watched her place the bag on the coffee table and pull out the cardboard box.

Just like always, she opened the lid and handed me a fork. "Taste it.

It’s fresh out of the oven." I didn’t take it. "Chloe." "Is there something you need to tell me?" Her hand froze in midair.

Then, she slowly lowered the fork onto the box, looked up at me, and forced that same smile back onto her face. "Tell you what? Oh, about my mom coming over?

She just Snapchated me saying—" "About the hotel." She fell completely silent. The living room went dead quiet. She stood on one side of the coffee table, and I stood on the other.

Between us was a table piled high with wedding brochures. "The hotel coordinator called me today.

She said three days ago, you went to the front desk and canceled the booking." Chloe looked down, staring at the papers on the table. "Lucas," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "I was actually planning to talk to you about this." "Talk about what?" "About the wedding." She looked up at me. "I just think all of this is so unnecessary.

It's a complete waste of money. Look at this catering bill.” “Each plate is $150.

For over a hundred guests, that’s fifteen thousand dollars just for a few hours of eating!" "And then there's the decorator, the DJ, the videographer... that’s another ten grand.

If we save this money, think of all the better things we could do with it." I stared at her, watching her lips move. "Didn't we already agree on this?" "You said a wedding only happens once in a lifetime, so it was fine to have a higher budget." "You said we needed a toptier videographer with a twocamera setup so we wouldn’t regret it when we watched the tape years later." "I thought about it later, and I realized it's just not worth it." "Most young couples don't even do big weddings anymore, right?

An elopement is so much better.” “It saves money and hassle. We could go to Miami, or California—you’ve always wanted to go there."

"Chloe." "Yeah?" "Look me in the eye." She looked at me. "Is there another reason?" I asked. "What other reason could there be?" "Do you not want to marry me anymore?" She frowned. "What are you talking about?

When did I ever say I don’t want to marry you?" "Then why did you cancel the wedding?

And why did you hide it from me?" "I told you, I just think it’s a waste of money." "Chloe." I cut her off. "We’ve been together for three years.

Do you really think I don’t know you?

If you want something, you buy it, no matter how expensive it is." "Since when did you care so much about saving money?" She remained silent. "If you really thought the wedding was unnecessary, we could have talked about it." I took a step forward. "Why did you go behind my back to cancel it?

Why didn't you consult me?" "Aren't I consulting you right now?" "You call this consulting?" I pointed at the papers on the table. "You already canceled it, and now you’re coming to 'consult' me?

You’re not consulting me, Chloe. You’re notifying me!" She took a deep breath and looked away. "I’ve already told my mom." "You should tell your parents too.

Let’s just call off the ceremony." My brain went completely numb. "You told your mom?" "Yes." "What did she say?" "She said..." She paused. "She said it’s our decision, and she’s fine with it." I stared at her profile. "Chloe." "Give me your phone." "What?" "Give me your phone.

I want to see it." Her hand flinched backward. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

But I saw it. "See what?" she said, her voice tightening. "There's nothing to see on my phone." "You used to let me look at it whenever I wanted." "Well, that doesn’t mean you get to spy on me every single day." I walked toward her and held out my hand. "Give it to me." She took a step back. "Lucas, don't do this." "Do what?" "You're being..." She avoided my hand. "You're showing that you don't trust me." I let out a bitter laugh. "I don't trust you?

Chloe, you're the one who secretly canceled our wedding. You're the one who lied to me. And now you’re turning this around and accusing me of not trusting you?" She said nothing.

Her hand was shoved deep into her pocket. I knew she was gripping her phone. "Take it out," I said. "No." "Chloe." "I said no!" Her voice hardened. "My phone is my private property.

Why should I show you?" "That’s not what you used to say." "You used to say we had no secrets.

You used to say I could look at it whenever I wanted." "That was then." "And now?" She didn't answer. I stared at her—at this person I had loved for three years.

She stood on the other side of the coffee table, separated from me by a single piece of furniture, but it felt like she was standing on another planet. "Are you hiding something from me?" I asked.

"No." "Then let me see your phone." "No way." "Why not?" "Just because." I walked around the coffee table and stood right in front of her. "Lucas." I reached for her pocket.

She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. "Let go of me." "Don't do this, Lucas." Her fingers dug into my skin, her knuckles turning white.

She was terrified of me seeing what was on that phone. The more she resisted, the more certain I became. "Lucas!" she screamed, shoving me hard.

I stumbled back a few steps, my back slamming against the wall. A sharp pain shot up my spine, making me gasp.

She stood by the entryway, her chest heaving, clutching her phone tightly. We stared at each other. Neither of us spoke.

After a long, agonizing silence, she looked away. "I’m leaving," she said, her voice dropping. "We both need to cool down." She grabbed the door handle and walked out.

The door slammed shut. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. I sat there for a long time, until the sky outside went completely dark.

Finally, I dragged myself up to find my phone. I scrolled to "Mom" and hit call. She picked up on the second ring. "Lucas?

Why are you calling so late?" Hearing my mom's voice, my eyes instantly stung with hot tears. "Mom," I said, my throat tight. "The wedding is off." "What?" "Chloe went to the hotel and canceled it.

She didn't tell me. I just found out today." Silence hung on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Then, my mom's voice erupted: "What does she mean by that?

What right does she have to cancel it?

Did you guys have a fight?" "No." "Then why?" "She said it's a waste of money." I leaned back against the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. "She said she already told her parents.

She told me to tell you guys, too." "That is complete bull!" My mom snapped. "A waste of money? Our family is paying for the reception venue!

We didn't even complain about the cost, so why is she throwing a fit?" I didn't say anything. "Lucas, tell me the truth.

Is there something else going on?" "I don't know." "I wanted to see her phone, but she wouldn't let me." "Stay right there.

Your father and I are coming over!" "Mom, you don't have to." "What do you mean we don't have to? You stay right at home! We’re only a few miles away.

Wait for us, we’re on our way." The line went dead. I held the phone, listening to the quiet hum of the night.

I tossed the phone onto the couch, stood up, and walked into the bedroom. On the nightstand, there was still a framed photo of us taken in Maui last year.

My arm was wrapped around her shoulder, she was leaning into my chest, and both of us were smiling so wide our eyes were squinted.

On the back of the photo, she had written: With Lucas, forever. Forever. How long is forever? I opened the closet, grabbed her clothes, and threw them onto the bed one by one.

Her tshirts, her blouses, her coats. By the time I was done, her side of the closet was completely empty, and her clothes were piled like a small mountain on the mattress.

I sat down next to the pile, staring into space. Then, I got up and walked into the study. There was an iPad on the desk. It belonged to her, and she usually left it at home.

I knew the passcode. It was the same as our phones—the date we officially started dating. I unlocked the iPad. The screen lit up with her familiar interface.

Her Instagram was logged in.

I tapped the direct messages and scrolled down. Nothing looked suspicious. There were just work group chats, a few friends, and the chat histories were from days ago.

Unwilling to give up, I checked the camera roll and her Safari history. Still, nothing. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe she really just thought it was a waste of money?

But that look in her eyes, her dodging, her shoving me away... I opened her Amazon app. There were three pending deliveries. The shipping address was not our apartment.

I memorized the address with a single glance. It was a condo unit in a building downtown. It wasn't our neighborhood, and it wasn't a place I knew. I tapped the order details.

The first order, placed a week ago: A designer men's leather belt, $450. Not a brand I ever wore. The second order, five days ago: A highend men's skincare set, $280.

Still, not something I used. The third order, three days ago: A bottle of luxury men's cologne, $150. Not the scent I liked. I set the iPad down. My fingers were shaking violently.

I tapped her purchase history and scrolled further back. Two months ago: a gaming laptop. One month ago: a designer watch.

Half a month ago: a custommade cake delivered to that same address. The recipient’s name was Tristan. I stared at that name. I had never heard of him.

I went through her PayPal transactions, her Uber Eats orders, her Uber ride history. The more I scrolled, the more my hands shook.

There was a restaurant reservation for a romantic tasting menu last Thursday.

She had told me she was working late that night, coming home past nine, claiming she was exhausted and had only eaten a sad salad at her desk. Two movie tickets, two Sundays ago.

She had said she had an urgent team meeting at the office, leaving in the afternoon and returning late.

I had spent the entire day alone watching football, waiting for her to come home for dinner. Her Uber history showed she rode to that downtown condo at least twice a week.

The most recent trip was three days ago. I shut the iPad down. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my mom: Your dad and I are downstairs. Coming up now.

I stood up, but my knees felt weak. I had to lean against the wall for support. I walked to the living room, unlocked the front door, and sat back down on the couch.

Soon, footsteps echoed in the hallway. My mom rushed in first, with my dad following closely behind. The moment my mom saw my face, her expression changed.

She hurried over to me. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" "Mom, I'm fine.

Really." "Where is Chloe?" "She left." "Where did she go?" "I don't know." My mom sat down next to me while my dad stood by the coffee table. "Lucas," my dad spoke, his voice calm and steady. "Tell us what happened." I looked at my dad and recounted everything from the beginning.

The call from the hotel, Chloe’s excuses, her refusing to show me her phone, and her slamming the door on her way out. I didn't mention that I had just checked her iPad.

By the time I finished, my mom's face was flushed with anger. "This wedding is off. For good." "You aren't even married yet, and she's already keeping secrets from you.

What happens after you tie the knot? Who does Chloe think she is? Our son is ten times too good for her!" "There's no negotiating this.

If she can call off a wedding behind your back today, she’ll betray you in worse ways tomorrow. You cannot marry this girl."

My dad remained quiet, just looking at me. "Lucas, what do you want to do?" What did I want to do? I thought of the Amazon orders, the downtown address, the name Tristan.

I thought of her excuses of working late, her "meetings," her complaints about being too tired. "Dad, I need to confirm one more thing." "What is it?" I got up, walked into the study, and brought out the iPad.

I opened the pending orders and handed it to my dad. My dad looked at the screen, his eyebrows knitting together. My mom leaned in to look.

When she finished reading, she looked up at me, her eyes red. "That's not our address." "And those things aren't for you." The living room fell into a heavy silence.

My mom wiped a tear from her cheek, and my dad stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. "What's your plan?" my dad asked.

I looked at him, then at my mom. "I want to wait for her to come back." "I want to hear what she has to say." "What is there left to say?" My mom sobbed, wiping her tears. "The proof is right here.

What could she possibly explain?" "Mom, I want to hear it from her own mouth." My dad patted my mom on the shoulder. "Let him handle it." My mom wanted to argue, but my dad gently pulled her back.

He looked at me and said: "Call us whenever you need us, Lucas.

No matter how late." "I know, Dad." "We'll head out first." "Okay." As they walked to the door, my mom turned back and hugged me tightly.

She squeezed me so hard I could barely breathe. "Lucas, I can stay here with you." "No, Mom, it's fine. Go home.

I need some time alone." She let go of me, stared at my face for a long moment, sighed, and walked out with my dad. The door clicked shut, and the apartment fell silent again.

Chloe didn't come back that night. I sent her a text: Come back. We need to talk. She didn't reply.

I sat there all night, staring at the wedding flyers, staring at the things that were supposed to belong to our future. When dawn broke, the lock clicked.

I looked up and saw Chloe walking through the door. She froze when she saw me sitting on the couch. Then she avoided my gaze and walked straight toward the bedroom.

I stood up and followed her. She opened the closet, pulled out a suitcase, unzipped it, and started packing her clothes. Her tshirts, her blouses, her coats.

The clothes I had thrown onto the bed the night before—she began folding them one by one, putting them into the suitcase. "Chloe." She didn't stop. "Chloe, look at me." She kept folding.

I walked over and grabbed her wrist.

She shook me off and continued packing. "We need some space for a few days," she said, keeping her eyes glued to the suitcase. "I’m going to stay at a friend's place.

We both need to calm down." I looked at her, at her hands, at the clothes she was folding so meticulously. "A few days?" I asked. "Just a few days." "And then what?" She looked up at me.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back. "Chloe," I said. "We don't need a few days." She stared at me. "Let's just break up." Her hands paused for a fraction of a second, then went right back to folding. "Lucas, don't be dramatic." "I just thought the wedding was too expensive, and I wanted to save some money.

Is that really worth ending things over?" I let out a dry laugh. "Save money?" "Yes." "For whom?" She didn't answer. "For that guy Tristan?" "Buying him a gaming laptop, a designer watch?

Booking fancy dinners and movie tickets? Are those the savings you were talking about?"