Callie sat in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, staring at Kyle's sleeping form. The warmth she once felt just looking at him had turned into something foreign, something hollow. Her fingers dug into the sheets as her mind raced.
Was she about to throw away nine years over a text? Was she overreacting?
No.
She knew what she saw. She knew what it meant.
Her breath came out shaky as she reached out and shook Kyle's shoulder—gently at first, then harder when he merely groaned in response.
"Kyle. Wake up."
He stirred, mumbling something incoherent before blinking up at her. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Callie? What's wrong?"
She held up his phone. "Who is she?"
A split second. That's all it took for the drowsiness to vanish from his face, replaced by something darker—panic.
"What?" His voice was rough, guarded.
Callie clenched her jaw, unlocking the screen and turning it toward him. "Don't play dumb, Kyle. Who is she?"
He sat up now, rubbing his face before reaching for his phone, but she yanked it away.
"Callie, it's—it's not what you think," he said, voice low, careful.
She let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, really? Because what I think is that while I was here planning our wedding, you were off—" Her voice broke. She swallowed hard. "You were off having fun with someone else."
Kyle exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He didn't deny it.
That was all she needed to know.
"How long?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
He hesitated.
Callie's heart pounded in her ears. "How long, Kyle?"
"…It was just once."
She let out a bitter laugh. "Right. Just once. And I'm supposed to believe that?"
Kyle reached for her hand, but she pulled away like his touch burned. "Callie, I swear, it didn't mean anything. I was drunk, I wasn't thinking—"
"Oh, so that makes it better?" She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "You weren't thinking? Kyle, we're supposed to get married! How do you expect me to just—what? Pretend this didn't happen?"
He looked away, jaw clenched, as if searching for an answer that didn't exist.
Callie stared at him, really stared at him, and saw what she had been too blind to notice before—the cracks in their foundation. The distance. The way he had been avoiding conversations about their future.
Her stomach twisted as realization hit her like a freight train.
"You were going to keep this from me," she whispered. "If I hadn't seen that message, you would've just come home, kissed me like nothing happened, and married me anyway."
Kyle's silence was all the confirmation she needed.
A sob clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn't break. Not now.
She stood, wrapping her arms around herself as if it would hold her together. "I can't do this, Kyle."
His head snapped up. "Callie, wait—"
"No," she said, voice stronger this time. "I spent nine years believing you were my forever. But forever shouldn't feel like this."
Kyle looked desperate now, but she didn't care. Maybe a part of him was sorry, but it wasn't enough. Not anymore.
She turned, walked to the closet, and grabbed her overnight bag.
"Callie, please, can we just talk about this?"
She spun around, eyes blazing. "You had plenty of time to talk, Kyle. You had nine years to be honest with me." She inhaled sharply, then exhaled. "I'm done."
And with that, she walked out the door, leaving behind the man she thought she knew—and the life she had once dreamed of.