Unwanted Fiancée

Gavins favorite phrase was, Just hold on a little longer. He promised a house after his project payout. I waited four years in a dingy rental. Then he asked me to wait until his sister graduated to marry. I held on another year.

At his familys housewarming, his mother pulled out keys tied with red ribbonfor the apartment Gavin and I had picked out. Id sold my late mothers gold heirloom for forty-five thousand to help with the down payment. I thought my compromises had paid off. Instead, Mrs. Sinclair smiled and dropped the keys into Serenas hand. "She just got back from Europe and needs a place," she said. "She should move in first."

Silence. My heart sank. Someone asked where wed live. Gavin placed salmon on my plate, patronizing. "Its not safe for Serena alone. Its temporary. The deed doesnt matter, Audrey, our relationship does." Serena jangled the keys, winking. "I wont touch the master bedroom. You dont mind, do you?"

I set my fork down. "Why would I? Its just an apartment." Gavin sighed in relief. My phone buzzed: Evidence of your pre-marital contributions is ready. We can proceed with legal preservation tomorrow at nine. I looked at the keys in Serenas hand and typed back, Proceed.

On the drive back, Gavin hummed a quiet tune, seemingly in high spirits.

I sat in the passenger seat, staring down at the notary's confirmation.

Until he reached over and squeezed the back of my hand. "Still upset?"

I pulled my hand away and slipped it into my coat pocket. "No."

He let out a soft laugh. "Audrey, you always do this. You're so stubborn. I know my mother was a bit sudden tonight, but you know Serena's situation. Her parents live abroad, and she just got back. We can't just leave her in a hotel, can we?"

I looked out the window at the streetlights blurring past. "So she gets our home?"

Gavin frowned. "What do you mean, our home? Those are just the temporary keys the developer gave us for inspection. The handover isn't even official yet. Besides, she's just checking it out. It's not like she's moving in forever."

I turned to look at him. "Your mother handed her those keys in front of everyone."

The car went silent. Gavin tugged at his collar, clearly irritated. "Audrey, must you overanalyze everything? Do you really want to humiliate my mother in front of the whole family? Serena grew up with us, and her family helped my father back in the day. Can't you show a little grace?"

He always did this. Every time I voiced my hurt, he immediately painted me as the unreasonable, petty one.

I looked down and smiled faintly. "Sure. I can show grace."

"Good," Gavin said, visibly relaxing. "Don't worry. Once Serena finds her own place, I'll have her move out. It won't delay our wedding plan."

Our wedding. The word felt as flimsy and cheap as scrap paper.

Five years ago, we were crammed into a damp, drafty studio apartment in the run-down part of town. He had held me tight and whispered, "Audrey, just two more years of struggle. Once I buy a house, your name will be the first one on the title deed."

But when his firm finally took off, things changed. He bought a luxury penthouse for his mother, got his sister Hailey a car, and secured a job for Serena. I was the only one left waiting. Waiting for him to be free, waiting for his family's approval.

The car pulled up to our rental building. We had lived in this two-bedroom apartment for four years. I had picked out the living room light fixtures, hung the curtains, and hand-selected every single dish in the kitchen.

Gavin unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head away, and his lips brushed the air.

"Audrey," his voice darkened. "That's enough."

I pushed the door open and got out. "I have a busy morning tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

Gavin caught up, grabbing my arm. "What's tomorrow?"

"Just some paperwork."

"What kind of paperwork?"

I met his eyes calmly. "Nothing that concerns you."

His face fell. "Do you really have to be so hostile?"

I didn't answer. My phone vibrated again. The notary officer had sent a list of supplementary materials:

[Please bring all bank transfer records, the apartment purchase agreement, screenshots of chat logs promising the title split, and any evidence regarding the other party's unilateral cancellation of the joint contribution agreement.]

I replied with a quick "Will do."

Gavin caught a glimpse of my screen, his brow furrowing deeper. "Who's that?"

I locked the screen. "Just spam."

He had no idea. A month ago, I had discovered the amended contract. Originally, we agreed I would put down forty-five thousand dollars and my name would be added to the deed later. But in the developer's registry, Gavin was listed as the sole owner. When I asked, he claimed it was a mistake by the agent.

I only believed half of that excuse. The other half was enough to make me gather all my evidence.

Tonight's housewarming dinner was his last chance. But he had handed those keys to someone else.

The next morning at seven, a phone call woke Gavin. He stepped out onto the balcony, closing the glass door. But I could still hear Serena's whimpering voice.

"Gavin, I couldn't sleep at all last night. When I think about those keys your mom gave me, I feel like an intruder in your and Audrey's home."

Gavin's voice softened instantly. "Don't think like that. You're family."

Serena said something else on the other end. Gavin glanced back at me. I was sitting at the dining table, packing bank statements into a folder.

He lowered his voice. "She won't mind. She's just like that sometimes. She'll get over it in a couple of days."

My hand paused, then I sealed the folder.

Fifteen minutes later, Gavin was dressed. "Serena wants to measure the apartment for custom furniture today. I'm going to help her."

I looked up. "Weren't we supposed to go to the town hall to register our marriage license today?"

Gavin paused, his hands freezing on his cuffs. He looked as if he had completely forgotten. A few seconds later, he recovered his smooth tone.

"It's just an appointment, Audrey. We aren't actually getting married today. Serena just got back; she doesn't know her way around. She can't handle this alone."

I stared at him. "Gavin, I was the one who contacted the designers. I stayed up for nights tweaking the floor plan. I calculated every single penny of the budget. And now you're taking her to measure it?"

Gavin finally snapped. "Audrey, are you ever going to drop this? She's just looking. Why do you have to be jealous of everything? If you're so worried, why don't you just come with us?"

He noticed the folder on the table and reached for it. "What's this?"

I pinned it down before he could touch it. "My things."

"What do you mean, your things? Why can't I see them?" He tried to pull it away. I stood up, taking the folder with me as I stepped back.

His hand hung in the air. The room grew freezing cold. He studied me with a strange, analytical look. "Audrey, you've been acting weird lately."

I smiled. "Have I?"

"You never used to be like this."

"I also used to think I was getting married."

Gavin's expression hardened. He stared at me for a long time before letting out a dry laugh. "Right. Here come the threats again. Is this all because of the keys last night? I told you, that place is going to be ours eventually. Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

He walked over, softening his tone. "Audrey, stop playing games. I'll come back tonight to have dinner with you, and we'll set the wedding date. Deal?"

"Don't bother coming back tonight," I said.

He blinked, startled.

I grabbed my bag and the folder. "I have plans."

The notary office opened at nine. The staff was just rolling up the shutters when I arrived. My reflection on the glass door showed a face that wasn't crying or red-eyed. Just calm. Uncannily calm.

After reviewing my documents, the notary officer looked up. "Ms. Audrey, are you sure you want to file a declaration of capital withdrawal? Once this is notarized, we will verify the execution of this document. However, freezing any property transfer might still require your attorney to send a formal demand letter to the developer."

I nodded. "I'm sure."

"You contributed forty-five thousand dollars to the down payment, and another ten thousand for custom interior deposits," she reminded me. "If the other party refuses to refund it, you may have to take this to court."

I signed my name. "Then we'll go to court."

As the pen glided across the paper, I thought of my mother's gold bracelet. Before she passed, she had held my hand and whispered, Audrey, a girl must always keep her own money. You can love someone, but never hand over your life.

I hadn't understood then. I did now.

When I left the office, there were a dozen missed calls from Gavin. I ignored them.

Soon after, Serena sent a photo. She was standing in the living room of the new apartment. The wall where I had planned to put a bookshelf had been digitally painted pink to look like a display cabinet.

Her caption read: Audrey, did I make the place look too childish? Gavin said as long as I like it, it's fine.

Then came a voice note. Her voice was dripping sweet. "Audrey, please don't misunderstand. I'm just helping you guys test-run the place. After all, I know Gavin's living habits better than you do."

I saved the photo and forwarded it to my attorney. [Does this count as the other party unauthorizedly disposing of joint property interests?]

The lawyer replied almost instantly: [Yes, we can use this as evidence.]

My phone rang again. Gavin. This time, I picked up.

"Audrey, where the hell are you?" his voice simmered with anger.

"Paperwork."

"What paperwork? Did you go to the notary office?"

I said nothing.

Gavin's breathing grew heavy. "Are you insane? My mother just got a call from the developer saying you filed a withdrawal of funds. We spent six months securing that apartment at that price! Now you're pulling your funds?"

"I'm not throwing a tantrum, Gavin."

"Then what do you call this?"

I stood by the crosswalk, watching the pedestrian light countdown. "I'm taking back what's mine."

Silence stretched over the line before Gavin let out a harsh laugh.

"Forty-five thousand dollars. Is that really worth all this? When you sold your mother's heirloom to chip in, I told you not to. You insisted. Now you're using this to hold hostage?"

My fingers clenched tightly around my phone. "You're right. It's not worth it."

Sensing my tone, Gavin softened his voice. "Audrey, I didn't mean it that way. We're about to get married. Splitting pennies like this ruins our relationship. Just withdraw the declaration. I'll take you to that French restaurant you love tonight, and we'll talk."

Talk. He always wanted to talk. And it always ended with my compromise.

The light turned green. I stepped forward with the crowd. "No need, Gavin. We have nothing left to talk about."

The line went dead silent. It took him a long moment to speak. "Audrey, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," I said, and hung up.

I headed straight back to the rental. The movers I had booked a week ago were already waiting downstairs.

The moment I realized my name wasn't on the registry, I had prepared for the worst. If Gavin had stood up to his mother last night, if he had given me a single honest explanation, I might have canceled the movers.

But he didn't.

Seeing me alone, the mover asked, "A lot of stuff?"

"Not much."

My belongings were sparse. A few boxes of books, two bags of clothes, my laptop, and my art supplies. The rest were pieces of a life I had built over the years. I left the kitchen mugs, the living room throw pillows, and the floor lamp I had visited three different shops to find. It wasn't that I couldn't let go; I just didn't want them anymore.

Near the end, the mover pulled a cardboard box from under the bed. "Do we pack this too?"

I looked inside. It was filled with our years together: movie tickets, vacation photos, matching slippers, and a notebook filled with wedding plans.

I knelt down and flipped open the notebook.

On the first page, in my handwriting: Wedding budget: under twenty-five thousand.

On the second page, in Gavin's handwriting: Whatever makes the bride happy.

I stared at his words and smiled. Then I threw the entire notebook into a trash bag. "Leave it."

At five in the afternoon, I left my keys on the entryway table. I snapped a picture and sent it to Gavin. [Keys are on the table. I'm moved out.]

He didn't reply. Three minutes later, his call came. I declined it. He called again; I declined again.

After the seventeenth call, he sent a text: [Audrey, don't do something you'll regret.]

I replied for the final time: [You're the one who should start regretting.]

At eight, Gavin finally returned to the apartment. By then, I was already in a cab heading to the train station.

Tess called me. "Are you really not going to tell him where you're going?"

"No."

"What about the apartment? The money? Knowing his family, do you think they'll just hand it back?"

"My lawyer will handle it."

Tess paused, then cursed softly. "It's about damn time, Audrey. You've been living like a glorified maid for years. You helped his mother at the hospital, tutored his sister Hailey, and did the bookkeeping for his startup after your own working hours. And for what? He hands the keys to his childhood sweetheart and cancels your marriage registration appointment for her. Who does he think he is?"

I leaned my head against the cold car window, listening to her rant, and felt a sudden weight lift from my chest.

Gavin's texts kept flooding my phone.

[Where are you?]

[Why is the closet empty?]

[Audrey, are you serious?]

[Did you go to Tess's place?]

[I'm warning you, don't use a breakup to threaten me.]

I didn't reply.

Ten minutes later, he sent a photo of the entryway table. The keys were there, right next to the silver ring I had left behind.

It was a cheap silver band. Gavin had bought it with his first project bonus five years ago. He was so broke back then that he got the size wrong. It was loose on my finger, but I had worn it proudly. He had promised to buy me a diamond ring once he made it. Five years had passed, and that promise remained unfulfilled.

My phone buzzed with a voice note. Gavin's voice sounded raw and raspy.

"Audrey, where are you? I admit my mother went too far last night, and Serena was out of line. But you can't just pack up and leave. We've been together for five years. Are you really throwing that away?"

I watched the city lights blur outside the window, ignoring him.

Moments later, Serena's social media feed updated. She posted a photo of the new apartment, the red-ribboned keys resting on the coffee table.

Her caption: Some places don't have to belong to me. At least tonight, I have someone to watch the skyline with.

In the corner of the photo, Gavin's sleeve was visible.

Tess saw it too, her voice shaking with fury over the phone. "He has the nerve to call you while he's sitting there with her? Is he insane?"

I stared at the image for a few seconds. Then I exited the app and messaged my lawyer. [Please send the legal notices to Gavin and the developer tonight.]

My lawyer replied: [Are you sure you want to send them now?]

I replied: [Yes, absolutely.]

The station PA system announced the final boarding for my train. I wheeled my suitcase toward the gate.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated frantically. It was Gavin. I declined.

He sent a voice note. In the background, Serena was crying softly. Gavin's voice was laced with pure panic.

"Audrey, explain this to me right now! Why did the developer call saying you withdrew your down payment? Why does this legal notice say we have no binding engagement? What the hell are you doing?"

I stood in front of the ticket barrier, typing out my last words to him.

[Gavin.]

[I'm not doing anything.]

[I'm just done with you.]

The moment the message sent, I popped the SIM card out of my phone and dropped it into a nearby trash can.

"Audrey!"

A desperate shout echoed from behind.

I turned around.

Gavin was standing just outside the ticket barrier, clutching the silver ring I had left behind. His eyes were bloodshot.