The Way Out He Never Saw Coming - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading The Way Out He Never Saw Coming, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of The Way Out He Never Saw Coming.
Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable, splashing onto my wedding dress like silent raindrops. The delicate lace soaked up some, but others escaped, landing on Leon's hand where it gripped mine. Each one seemed to steal another piece of my strength until standing there felt impossible. My legs trembled, my stomach twisted, and with one sharp tug, I yanked my hand free. His confused stare followed me as I stumbled back, my breath ragged.
Heart hammering, I bolted for the sidewalk, hiking up my dress to keep from tripping. I waved frantically at passing cabs, my arm shaking, until one finally screeched to a stop. I practically fell into the backseat, slamming the door behind me.
The driver eyed me in the rearview—surprise, then pity flickering across his face. He stayed quiet at first, but after watching me ignore call after call from Leon, he sighed. "If that were my daughter," he murmured, "I'd be heartbroken."
I tried to focus on the blur of the city through the rain-streaked window, but every landmark was a knife to the chest. Our café. The park where we'd had our first date. The bookstore where he'd faked interest in my favorite novels just to win me over. The whole city felt like it was mocking me.
I couldn't take it. I silenced my phone, leaned back, and shut my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me. By the time we reached my apartment, my screen flashed with over a hundred missed calls—and a string of texts, each one icier than the last.
[Are we doing these photos or not? I'm giving you twenty minutes. After that, forget it!]
[Emily, the bridal shop's charging me for the dress. What the hell am I supposed to do?]
[Transfer me the money NOW. You've humiliated me!]
My hands shook as I scrolled. Before I could finish, his call blasted through again. Against every instinct, I answered.
"Emily, send me five thousand! That dress you ruined costs five grand. Do it NOW!"
His voice was a whip—no concern, no "Where are you?" just pure fury over a price tag. I glanced down at the dirt-streaked hem of my gown, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. With a bitter laugh, I transferred six thousand—extra, just in case. The second the notification chimed, his calls stopped. Silence.
The apartment walls screamed with photos of us—smiling, happy, lies. The adrenaline drained, and pain shot through my foot where I'd cut it earlier. Then, like a dam breaking, the sobs came.
How had we gotten here? I'd given up everything for him. Rented a place five minutes from his office so he could sleep in, while I woke at dawn for a two-hour commute. Wore thrifted clothes so he could have designer sneakers. Cut ties with my family to soothe his insecurities. And still—it wasn't enough. He wanted every piece of me, except the one that mattered: my heart.
Hands trembling, I dialed him one last time. Maybe, just maybe, he'd answer. Maybe he'd say something—anything—other than a demand. The line rang. And rang. Then, dead air.
Gutted, I opened our chat and typed, each word searing like a brand:
[We're done.]
Heart hammering, I bolted for the sidewalk, hiking up my dress to keep from tripping. I waved frantically at passing cabs, my arm shaking, until one finally screeched to a stop. I practically fell into the backseat, slamming the door behind me.
The driver eyed me in the rearview—surprise, then pity flickering across his face. He stayed quiet at first, but after watching me ignore call after call from Leon, he sighed. "If that were my daughter," he murmured, "I'd be heartbroken."
I tried to focus on the blur of the city through the rain-streaked window, but every landmark was a knife to the chest. Our café. The park where we'd had our first date. The bookstore where he'd faked interest in my favorite novels just to win me over. The whole city felt like it was mocking me.
I couldn't take it. I silenced my phone, leaned back, and shut my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me. By the time we reached my apartment, my screen flashed with over a hundred missed calls—and a string of texts, each one icier than the last.
[Are we doing these photos or not? I'm giving you twenty minutes. After that, forget it!]
[Emily, the bridal shop's charging me for the dress. What the hell am I supposed to do?]
[Transfer me the money NOW. You've humiliated me!]
My hands shook as I scrolled. Before I could finish, his call blasted through again. Against every instinct, I answered.
"Emily, send me five thousand! That dress you ruined costs five grand. Do it NOW!"
His voice was a whip—no concern, no "Where are you?" just pure fury over a price tag. I glanced down at the dirt-streaked hem of my gown, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. With a bitter laugh, I transferred six thousand—extra, just in case. The second the notification chimed, his calls stopped. Silence.
The apartment walls screamed with photos of us—smiling, happy, lies. The adrenaline drained, and pain shot through my foot where I'd cut it earlier. Then, like a dam breaking, the sobs came.
How had we gotten here? I'd given up everything for him. Rented a place five minutes from his office so he could sleep in, while I woke at dawn for a two-hour commute. Wore thrifted clothes so he could have designer sneakers. Cut ties with my family to soothe his insecurities. And still—it wasn't enough. He wanted every piece of me, except the one that mattered: my heart.
Hands trembling, I dialed him one last time. Maybe, just maybe, he'd answer. Maybe he'd say something—anything—other than a demand. The line rang. And rang. Then, dead air.
Gutted, I opened our chat and typed, each word searing like a brand:
[We're done.]
End of The Way Out He Never Saw Coming Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to The Way Out He Never Saw Coming book page.