The day Ken Sterling and I were supposed to get engaged, his childhood sweetheart crashed the party. By slitting her wrists. The ceremony was called off. And I was just… done. 01 Outside the emergency room, a frantic energy buzzed around everyone, especially Ken. I was the only one still, my expression a flat mask of exhaustion. "They're coming out, they're coming out..." The light above the ER doors flickered off. The doors swung open, and a doctor in white scrubs emerged. "She's stable. We got her in time." A collective sigh of relief rippled through the group. I felt it too. I reached up, my fingers finding the pins holding my veil. I pulled it free, the delicate white tulle feeling impossibly heavy in my hand. Trailing my long gown behind me, I walked over to where Ken was sagging against the wall, his own relief palpable. He saw me and reached for my hand, his smile strained and weary. "Thank God she's okay." Yes, thank God. If she had actually died, it wouldn't just be Ken who'd never get over it. I would carry that weight, too. I’m not a monster; I wouldn't build my happiness on the foundation of someone else's grave. At his parents' insistence, Ken went to Willow's recovery room. I sank onto a hard plastic chair in the hospital corridor, the cold wall a welcome shock against my back. Soon, four figures stood over me, casting long shadows in the sterile light. Willow's mother, her eyes red-rimmed and pleading. "Aria, I know you're a good girl. But you see how much she loves Ken. If you two stay together… I'm terrified that next time, we won't be able to save her." Her father glared down at me, his face a mask of undisguised hostility. "Willow and Ken grew up together. We all just assumed… This thing with you, it's a youthful infatuation. Once he matures, he'll come back to her. He always does." Ken's mother, Mrs. Sterling, looked at me with a desperate earnestness. "I know this is terribly unfair to you, dear, but… can you find it in your heart to let them be? I know my son. He acts like he's unaffected, but he's dying inside. They share a history you and I can't understand." His father just scoffed, his anger directed at his wife but his displeasure aimed at me. "I told you this was a bad idea from the start! But no, 'let the young people make their own choices.' You spoiled him, and now look at this mess!" Their message was unanimous: End it with Ken. We had been together for three years. Three years of walking on eggshells. Every time Ken and I got a little too close, a little too happy, Willow would have a "depressive episode." At least ten overdoses, seven trips to a rooftop ledge, five sliced wrists. And every single time, Ken was gutted with guilt and self-blame. Our relationship became a secret, conducted in whispers and stolen moments. I felt less like a fiancée and more like a dirty little secret. We finally managed to arrange this engagement, a quiet affair, hoping she wouldn't find out. But she did. And here we were. I always thought the saying was "There are plenty of fish in the sea." She seemed determined to prove the only way to keep hers was to die for him. She had to be insane. Honestly, they didn't need to pressure me. Today's little spectacle had shattered my last nerve. I was terrified she would actually succeed one day, and I'd be haunted for the rest of my life. I was also terrified that whatever sickness plagued her mind was contagious. And if she had it, would Ken, her lifelong companion, catch it too? It wasn't a gamble I was willing to take. I valued my life far too much. 02 Still, a breakup deserved a face-to-face conversation. "Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, Willow's parents," I began, my voice steady. "You don't have to convince me. I was already planning on ending it." I pushed myself to my feet, my gown pooling around me. "Since Willow is out of danger, I'm going to head home. I'm exhausted." Leaving them standing there in stunned silence, I walked away, the rustle of my dress the only sound in the quiet corridor. Back at the apartment Ken and I shared, I climbed into bed without a shred of guilt. I knew my words would be all the ammunition those four needed to keep Ken at the hospital. As expected, he didn't come home that night. Not even a phone call. Since we were breaking up anyway, I didn't care. Ken had pursued me for four years in college, swearing I was his first and only love. After graduation, he followed me to this city. His persistence finally wore me down. If I had known he came with a childhood sweetheart who had a death wish, I would have run for the hills. Three days passed before he finally came back. He looked utterly drained. Seeing me, a wounded look filled his eyes. "Aria," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I'm so tired." Seeing his weariness, his raw dependence on me, a flicker of pity stirred. But the thought of a lifetime lived on high alert, always waiting for the next crisis call, extinguished it immediately. An old saying echoed in my mind: a clean break is the kindest cut. I twisted the engagement ring off my finger and held it out to him. "Ken, this isn't working. Let's just… call it quits." The fatigue on his face froze, replaced by a raw, stunned disbelief, as if I'd just thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He lunged forward, grabbing my hand. "Aria? What are you talking about? 'Call it quits'? Is this because I wasn't here? Let me explain, Willow, she—" I yanked my hand back so hard the ring almost flew from my grasp. "Stop. Don't you dare say her name to me. The sound of it makes me physically ill, and frankly, it's starting to make you look ugly too." I brushed past him and headed for the walk-in closet, pulling out my largest suitcase. "This has nothing to do with your precious Willow. It has everything to do with the fact that being with you feels like it's shaving years off my life." He blocked the doorway, his tall frame radiating a desperate energy. His eyes were red-rimmed. "Shaving years off your life? Aria! Four years in college, three years of our lives together… and you're throwing it all away because I took care of Willow for a few days?" "Don't you know how I feel about you? I love you!" A bitter laugh escaped me as I started throwing clothes haphazardly into the suitcase. "Your love is too heavy, Ken. It comes with a 'plus-one' who might bleed out on our doorstep at any moment." "Is that your idea of love? Forcing me to live under the constant shadow of 'if she dies, we're murderers'?" "I'm sorry, but I'm not playing this game of Russian roulette with you anymore. I like living." I slammed the suitcase shut, the zipper screaming in protest. "Here's the ring. Let's make this clean. You can have the apartment, sell it, I don't care. Just wire me my half." "I don't agree," he growled, his hand clamping down on the suitcase handle. "Why do you get to decide this? What did I do wrong? I was with her because her life was on the line, Aria! Can't you be less cold-hearted for one second?" I almost laughed in his face. I tugged at the handle, but he wouldn't budge. "Fine," I snarled, my patience gone. "You want to know why? Because I've had enough." "I've had enough of your self-harming sweetheart." "I've had enough of you dropping everything to play firefighter every time she has a mood swing." "I've had enough of your families looking at me like I'm the other woman." "And most of all, I have had enough of this gut-wrenching fear that one day I'll wake up to the news that she finally succeeded, and everyone—including you—will look at me like I'm the one who pushed her." "Your love, Ken, is poison wrapped in honey. I'm afraid of dying, so I'm done eating it. Got it?" I abandoned the suitcase and grabbed my purse and laptop instead. "Let go. Don't make me call the cops and report you for unlawful imprisonment." My words seemed to pin him to the spot. His grip on the handle slackened, his eyes a maelstrom of pain and confusion. "It's not like that... Aria, I love you. Willow is just… she's sick. She needs help..." "She needs a psychiatrist, Ken. Not your bottomless enabling and your family's spineless indulgence." I grabbed my things. "Now move. I only waited this long to tell you this to your face. I'm leaving tonight. Don't make me say something I'll regret." Finally, he slumped, letting me pass. He leaned against the doorframe, his spine gone, watching me drag my suitcase to the front door without a single look back. The moment the door clicked shut, I heard a sound from within—a raw, strangled growl, like a cornered animal. 03 I checked into a hotel, but the world didn't get any quieter. Ken's calls, texts, and voicemails were a relentless bombardment. They morphed from pleading and apologies to accusations and blame, finally settling into a frantic, obsessive loop. He needed an answer. "Why? Aria, just tell me why." "Willow's done this before. You never cared this much in the past." "I love you so much, and I know you love me. What did I do wrong? Just tell me!" His voice was hoarse and agitated on the other end of the line. I stood by the cold hotel window, watching the endless stream of headlights below, a profound weariness seeping into my bones. I cut through his hysterical questioning. "Ken, I already made it perfectly clear." "Love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card." "Your love can't fix Willow's problems, and it can't erase the constant fear I live with that she's going to kill herself. I'm tired, Ken. I don't want to live like this anymore. We're—" Before I could finish, a jarring ringtone blared from his end. It was the special ringtone he'd set for Willow. My stomach dropped. Sure enough, his voice came back, rushed and frantic. "Aria, hold on. It's Willow's mom... she's not doing well again. I have to..." The line went dead, leaving only the monotonous dial tone. I stood there, phone in hand, listening to the dull beep... beep... beep... A cold, bitter wave of absurdity washed over me. See? There was the answer. There was always something more important, more urgent. There was always a "not doing well" Willow who could make him hang up on me without a second thought. Even in the middle of him demanding to know why I didn't love him anymore. My heart ached with a fatigue so deep it felt terminal. A single, powerful thought took root: Leave this city. Run far away and let all these toxic people and their screwed-up lives go to hell. But as my thumb swiped across the screen, I saw a notification from my work group chat about a major project. The impulse died as quickly as it had been born. Throw away a career I'd spent years building, all for a man? He wasn't worth it. 04 I thought breaking up meant cutting ties. But Ken started showing up at my office, trying to corner me in the lobby. I ignored him every time, making my decision crystal clear. I could dodge Ken, but I couldn't dodge Willow. She found me outside my building, dressed in a simple white dress that made her look even more fragile. "Aria," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Please, just give Ken back to me. Please?" "I can't live without him... That last time, with my wrists… I really wanted to die. I wanted to set you two free." "But Ken doesn't want me to die. He still loves me. So if you just give him back, I can keep living." "Please," she whispered, her fingers grabbing my arm. They were ice-cold and shook with a nervous tremor. "Save my life." A hot surge of revulsion shot through me. I ripped my arm from her grasp and took a step back. "Listen to me very carefully, Willow. First, Ken and I are over. Done. Finito." "Second, he is not a possession to be 'given back'." "And third, your life is your own responsibility. If you can't handle it, that's on you, not me, and not Ken. Get professional help. And stay the hell away from me." My coldness seemed to snap something in her. She looked up, tears still clinging to her lashes, but her eyes held a new, manic glint. "You're lying! You haven't broken up at all! You're still seducing him, aren't you? Why else would he keep trying to see you?" "Why won't he come back to me? It's because of you! Because you're still in this city!" She took an aggressive step forward, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. "Leave! Get out of here! If you leave, Ken will finally give up and come back to me. Just go!" I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "Are you actually insane? Whether I stay or go is my business, not yours. For the last time: get away from me." "You won't go, will you?" The fragile victim act vanished, replaced by a desperate, cornered-animal ferocity. "Fine! Fine! If you won't go, I'll die for you to see. Right here, in front of your office." "I'll make sure everyone knows you stole my boyfriend and then drove me to my death!" Here we go again. The death threats. I was so sick of it. I turned my back on her, wanting nothing more than to escape this lunatic. "If you're going to die, do it somewhere else. Don't ruin my day." I started to walk away, assuming it was just another empty threat. I underestimated her commitment. Or maybe, her madness. SCREEEEEECH— Behind me, a symphony of horrified screams and the piercing shriek of tires on pavement. My head snapped around, my heart seizing in my chest. Willow had actually thrown herself into traffic. A black sedan was stopped dead, its front bumper inches from her body. The driver, pale and shaking, leaned out the window, screaming. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU WANNA DIE, FIND A FUCKING BRIDGE! DON'T GET ME INVOLVED IN YOUR SHIT!" Willow was crumpled on the asphalt, no more than a foot from the car's grille, her face as white as a ghost, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. 05 "WILLOW!" A familiar, gut-wrenching roar tore through the air. Ken materialized out of nowhere, sprinting past me. He scooped her limp form off the road, pulling her back to the safety of the sidewalk. He held her tight, his hands frantically checking her for injuries. "Willow, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? It's okay, I'm here, you're safe." Then, he looked up, his eyes locking onto me where I stood frozen. The eyes that once held so much love for me were now blazing with a terrifying inferno of fury, chilling disappointment, and something that looked dangerously like hatred. "Aria. What did you do to her? What the hell did you say?" "Her mood was finally stable! She promised me she wouldn't try anything like this again!" "She said she was coming here to apologize to you! So why did she do this? What did you say to set her off?" "This is all my fault, I know, but she's sick, Aria! How could you provoke a sick person?" A crowd was gathering, whispering, pointing. "Yeah, I heard her," someone piped up. "That woman in the suit told the girl to go die somewhere else." "She looks so put together, but she's got a black heart." Ken stared at me, his expression hardening with disbelief. "Aria… when did you become so cruel? Do you hate her that much? Enough to want her dead?" In his arms, Willow began to sob, her fingers clutching his shirt like a lifeline. She was the one who wanted to die, not me. How dare he blame me for this? The injustice, the rage, the years of pent-up frustration… it all erupted inside me like a volcano, so hot and violent I thought my chest would explode. Seeing him cradling her, hearing his blind accusations, watching him look at me as if I were a murderer… every shred of my composure, my civility, my sanity—it all just snapped. "ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND, KEN?" "SHE—this certifiably insane psycho—came to find ME. Demanding I 'give you back' to her." "I told her we were done and to get lost, and what does she do? She has another one of her episodes and throws herself in front of a goddamn car!" "She wanted to die to prove a point to me! What was I supposed to do, get on my knees and beg her to live?" "Whether she lives or dies has nothing to do with me! I'm not her fucking mother!" My tirade seemed to stun him into silence. He stammered, "That's not possible, Willow would never…" "She would never what?" I was incandescent with rage, my pointing finger trembling. "You two are a match made in hell. One of you is certifiably insane, and the other is dumber than a bag of rocks. You're both sick, and it's not the curable kind." "You, Ken! The only reason this woman thinks she can pull this shit is because you let her! You know she's unstable, but you enable her every single time!" "She acts out, you feel sorry for her! She throws a tantrum, you give in! She cuts her wrists, you abandon your fiancée to hold her hand!" "And now she tries to get herself killed in the middle of the street, and you come flying in to be her white knight! Again!" "If you cared about her this damn much, why did you ever chase after me? Why did you drag me into this cesspool with you?" My aim shifted to Willow, who flinched and buried her face deeper into Ken's chest. "And you! What can you possibly do besides threaten people with your own pathetic life? Slicing your wrists wasn't dramatic enough, so you moved on to playing chicken with cars? You think the world revolves around you? That if you die, we'll all just stop and mourn?" "Let me tell you something! If you're going to die, do it right. Find a quiet place where no one can see you and get it over with. And stop fucking bothering me. The sight of you two makes me sick." "You are perfect for each other. You should be welded together. I wish you a long and miserable life together, haunting each other until the end of time. Just stay out of my world." Screaming it all out felt like I'd finally vomited up a poison that had been choking me for years. But the relief was followed by a deeper, more profound exhaustion and a chilling emptiness. The world went silent. The only sounds were Willow's muffled sobs and Ken's ragged breathing. His face was a thundercloud, his arms locked around her. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He just stared at me with a look I'd never seen before—shock, humiliation, and maybe, just maybe, the pained recognition of a truth he couldn't deny. From the safety of his arms, Willow shot me a venomous glare, a toxic mix of fear and hatred. Ken's voice was a low rasp, thick with an authority I no longer recognized. "Apologize. Aria, you knew she was unwell, and you provoked her. You will apologize to Willow. Now." "Even though you're my fiancée, you can't be this cruel." "'Fiancée'? Apologize?" A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. "Ken, do I need to remind you that our engagement party was cut short because the woman in your arms decided to bleed all over the bathroom? The ceremony never finished. We are broken up." "You're calling me your fiancée now? Are you delusional? And you want me to apologize to this professional victim? You're sicker than she is." I took one last, deep breath, my eyes sweeping over the tableau they made—the tragic, clinging couple, persecuted by the whole world. It was nauseatingly ironic. "Remember what I said. The two of you, locked together. Stay the hell away from me." I turned, pushed through the gawking onlookers, and walked away, my back straight, my head held high. Behind me, I heard Ken's voice, a low growl of fury. "Aria, stop right there! I told you, I don't agree to this breakup! You are still my fiancée!" I didn't listen. There was only one thought in my head: Go. Now. Get away from this hell. Perhaps the universe was listening. A few days later, I was called into a meeting with upper management. Due to a major expansion, they needed someone to head up the new southern branch office. It was a huge opportunity, a massive challenge, and required at least a year's commitment. Without a moment's hesitation, I said, "I'll do it." 06 As the plane climbed into the clouds, leaving the city of suffocating memories behind, I finally felt it—a fragile, post-traumatic sense of relief. The world outside my window was a sea of white, a blank slate. The southern air was warm and humid, scented with flowers I didn't recognize. The new job was a chaotic whirlwind, and the busyness was the best anesthetic I could have asked for. I thought distance and time would be enough to bury the absurdity of my past life. I changed my number, blocked Ken on every platform, and severed every tie to my old life. Then, one night, after a late shift at the office, I was scrolling through my social media feed in my new apartment. A link, shared frantically by a mutual acquaintance I'd almost forgotten, caught my eye. It was a live stream. The headline was a punch to the gut: "HEARTBROKEN STERLING CORP HEIR THREATENS JUMP! BEGS EX-FIANCÉE TO TAKE HIM BACK!"
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