I'm No Longer Your Perfect Wife

Before the engagement rehearsal, I saw a Snapchat group chat on Julian Carter's iPad.

It was a group chat with his childhood bros.

Someone had posted a picture of a handwritten scorecard titled: The Marriage Checklist.

Under my name, Sera Miller, there was a long list of calculated pluses:

Stable job +10,

Sweet temper, no drama +10,

Great at taking care of people +10...

Under another girl's name, there were only a few messy lines:

Hot and exciting +10,

High-maintenance, too proud -10,

But thrilling to be with +20.

One of his friends asked: "So, you've really decided?"

Julian's reply was cold, rational, and sober:

"Yeah. Scarlett is the one who makes my heart race, but she's too wild. Great for dating, but exhausting for marriage."

"I'm going with Sera. She's safe. She's the perfect wife material."

Staring at the words "perfect wife material," my eyes burned.

I had always thought our seven-year relationship was a natural progression of deep, mutual love.

It turned out that in his eyes, I was just a low-risk, cost-effective compromise.

If that was the case, I was out.

"Miss Miller, could you and Mr. Carter run through the ring exchange one more time?"

The wedding coordinator's voice echoed through the grand ballroom.

Today was our engagement party rehearsal.

Julian stood under the arch of white roses, looking breathtakingly handsome in his tailored suit. He smiled and stretched his hand out to me with deep affection.

I stared at his hand, feeling a sudden wave of detachment.

The absurdity of that scorecard was like a jagged piece of glass stuck in my throat. I couldn't swallow it, and I couldn't spit it out.

"Sera? What's wrong? Your hand is freezing."

Julian walked over, wrapping his warm hand around mine while handing me a cup of warm water.

"Are you tired from standing all morning? Just hang in there, babe. We're almost done."

Even his comforting tone was flawless, polished to perfection.

Just as I was about to pull my hand away, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom were pushed open with a loud thud.

"Julian! Is this really your taste? All these champagne roses? It's so tacky."

A red dress. Voluminous curls. Bold, radiant, and loud.

It was Scarlett Davis.

The toxic ex who had scored a "Hot and exciting +10" on his list.

She strolled in, arm-in-arm with Julian's best friend, Zach Brooks.

I felt Julian's hand instantly stiffen around mine.

A second later, he subconsciously let go of me.

He didn't say a word, but his eyes were glued to Scarlett. I saw his throat tighten as he swallowed hard.

Scarlett walked straight to the VIP table, her eyes scanning the place cards.

She stopped right in front of the gold-embossed card that read: [Fiance: Seraphina Miller] and let out a soft laugh.

Then, with a flick of her manicured finger, she swiped it.

My name card fell to the floor, rolling right to the tip of Julian's leather shoe.

"Oops. My hand slipped."

Scarlett covered her mouth, her eyes dripping with pure, undisguised provocation.

"Sera is too mature and sweet to care about a little accident, right?"

The coordinator and the staff looked at each other in awkward silence. Even Zach cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

Julian finally snapped out of his trance.

But instead of getting angry, he bent down and personally picked up my fallen card for Scarlett.

There was no blame in his eyes when he looked at her. In fact, there was a faint, hidden indulgence.

After placing the card back on the table, Julian turned to me.

"Sera."

His voice was gentle, carrying his usual tone of calm manipulation.

"Today is a happy day. Let's not make a scene. You've always had a great temper. Don't stoop to her level."

To placate me, he patted my shoulder and whispered, "She's just a spoiled brat. Ignore her."

My shoulder flinched under his touch.

A cold chill ran from my toes straight to my chest.

Great temper.

At this moment, the "Sweet temper, no drama +10" from yesterday's scorecard turned into a physical slap in the face.

Because I was the sensible one, I didn't even have the right to be angry.

Because I was "wife material," I was expected to smile and swallow every humiliation.

I looked down at the name card he had put back.

"Julian," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"She's spoiled. But who spoiled her in the first place?"

The air in the room froze.

Zach immediately jumped in, trying to laugh it off.

"Come on, Sera! Who else? Us! We all grew up together. Scarlett is like a little sister to all of us. Don't overthink it!"

Julian visibly relaxed, using the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulders.

"Exactly. We're all friends here. Come on, let's go grab lunch."

I was half-shoved, half-guided into the private dining room.

During the post-rehearsal lunch, the atmosphere was so wild it felt like Scarlett was the actual bride-to-be.

After a few rounds of drinks, the guys started getting loud.

Zach raised his glass and laughed. "Julian, you're a lucky bastard! Girls like Sera are a dying breed. She's pure tradwife energy. You could stay out partying until 3 AM, and she wouldn't even track your location."

The table roared with laughter.

Julian leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs, and smiled. "Of course. Sera is the most sensible girl I know."

Sensible. Low-maintenance.

These labels were branded onto me, serving as badges of honor for him to brag about at the bar.

Right then, Scarlett, who was sitting on Julian's other side, suddenly leaned her head onto his shoulder, smelling of alcohol.

"Julian..."

Her voice cracked, her eyes pooling with tears.

"I'm so stressed out. My design studio is completely out of cash. I can't even pay my employees next month. I think I have to close it down."

The smug composure on Julian's face vanished instantly.

He didn't push Scarlett away. Instead, his body naturally leaned toward her, his forehead creasing with deep concern.

"How much do you need? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"A lot..." Scarlett bit her lip, looking utterly helpless.

Without a second thought, Julian spoke up. "The Aurora Project we're signing next weekI'll outsource the entire core design work to your studio. It's a guaranteed money-maker. The advance payment will easily cover your deficit."

My hand tightened around my water glass so hard it almost shattered.

The Aurora Project?

That was the project my team had pulled three all-nighters for, researching for an entire month to secure.

Only yesterday, Julian had promised me that I would lead and execute it.

"Julian, the Aurora Project is my project," I said, my voice tight.

The laughter at the table died instantly.

Julian turned to look at me, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Sera, your position at your firm is already stable. You don't need this single project to prove yourself."

He dismissed all my hard work with a wave of his hand, speaking as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"Scarlett is facing bankruptcy. This project is a lifesaver for her."

Seeing my silence, Julian softened his voice, sighing.

"We're getting married soon, Sera. What's mine is yours. It's just business. Why be so petty? Be the bigger person."

I stared at the man I had loved for seven years. A wave of intense nausea hit me.

So, my efforts didn't deserve respect, and my hard work could be stolen at any time, simply because I was "stable."

Watching him whisper comfortingly to Scarlett, my stomach churned with pure disgust.

He was absolutely repulsive.

I don't even remember how that lunch ended.

That night, Julian's mother, Eleanor Carter, called me to the living room and threw a thick prenup onto the coffee table.

All of the Carter family's real estate, stocks, and savings had nothing to do with me.

After marriage, our living expenses would be split 50/50. It even explicitly stated that I would be responsible for all household chores and must take a full-time leave to prepare for pregnancy in the first year.

This wasn't a prenup. This was a slave contract for a zero-salary, 24/7 live-in maid who could be kicked out with nothing at any second.

I raised my eyes to look at Julian, who was sitting next to his mother.

He was slowly peeling an orange. Seeing that I hadn't picked up the pen, he leaned over and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

"Sera, just sign it," he said in a tone you'd use to coax a stubborn child.

"My mom is old-school. She just wants peace of mind. Besides, we're getting married to build a stable life. What's mine is yours anyway. You're not the type of girl who's after my money, right?"

He said it so smoothly.

With the phrase "not after my money," he easily locked me onto a moral pedestal, stripping away my rights while expecting me to thank him.

I looked at his handsome, calculating face and suddenly smiled.

"Okay."

I took the pen and signed "Seraphina Miller" on the signature line without a second thought.

A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Julian's eyes.

He probably thought I loved him so much that I had completely lost my mind.

Late that night, the only sound in the bedroom was the running water from the bathroom.

I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, my eyes falling on his unlocked iPad.

The screen lit up with rapid notifications from his Snapchat group.

Julian had sent a voice note, which had been transcribed into clear text on the screen:

"Prenup is signed. She didn't even read it. We're set, boys. Once she's a housewife, I can focus entirely on expanding the business."

Below was a string of replies: "Congrats, Julian! You just secured a perfect, low-maintenance back-up!"

Then, Scarlett's profile popped up.

She posted a selfie with teary eyes, captioned: "Congratulations on the wedding. Wish you a lifetime of happiness."

Almost instantly, Julian replied:

"Stop it. You know you're the only one I can't let go of."

"The only one I can't let go of."

I stared at those words. My chest ached with a suffocating tightness, but miraculously, I couldn't shed a single tear.

It was amazing how cruel a person could be when they were busy calculating their own interests.

He handed me the "safety" of a marriage contract as if it were charity, turning me into his free maid, while dedicating all his passion, career opportunities, and love to the woman who actually made his heart race.

When you reach the absolute bottom of despair, only pure, cold clarity remains.

I turned off the iPad, walked out to the balcony, and called my college friend who was now a top attorney.

"Chloe, I need you to draft an official cancellation of engagement and a complete financial split sheet. I need it tonight."

Half an hour later, the printer in the study buzzed softly, spitting out several warm sheets of paper.

Listening to the shower shutting off in the bathroom, I slowly smoothed out the creases on the documents.

Julian, you wanted a perfect, brainless tool of a wife.

Too bad. I'm canceling my subscription.

The engagement party was held at the Peninsula, the most luxurious hotel downtown.

The ballroom lights dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight shining on Julian standing under the floral arch.

Dressed in a designer tuxedo, he looked tall and striking. Holding a velvet box with a two-carat diamond ring, he walked toward me step by step.

Around us, the guests erupted into envious whispers and thunderous applause.

But my gaze drifted past his shoulder, landing on the VIP table in the front row.

Scarlett was sitting there.

Today, she wore a simple white floral dress. Her eyes were red, her lips pale, looking as fragile as a falling leaf.

Julian stopped in front of me, and the emcee handed him the microphone.

"Mr. Carter, please share your vows with your beautiful fiance."

The room fell dead silent.

Julian held the mic, his lips parting, but his eyes automatically drifted toward Scarlett.

In that split second, a flash of genuine pain and longing crossed his face.

"Sera, we've been together for seven years..."

He started, but his voice suddenly choked up.

A heavy, five-second silence stretched across the room. The air in the ballroom seemed to turn to ice.

He stared at Scarlett's tear-stained face, completely losing his train of thought, even forgetting to open the ring box in his hand.

It wasn't until Eleanor let out a loud, sharp cough from the front row that Julian snapped out of it.

He quickly turned his head back to me, forcing a warm, practiced smile, and recited his prepared lines:

"Sera, I love you. Will you marry me and be my solid rock?"

The emcee quickly tried to hype up the crowd. "Come on, bride! Say yes!"

Everyone looked at me, smiling expectantly.

I looked at Julian, staring at his fake, hollow devotion, and slowly raised my microphone.

"I won't."

Those two words, amplified by the high-end sound system, echoed clearly into every single corner of the grand ballroom.

The applause that was starting to build froze instantly.

The smile on Julian's face cracked. He lowered his voice, his tone sharp with warning and annoyance.

"Sera, stop playing games. Do you know what day it is?"

"Of course I know what day it is."

I let out a cold laugh, pulled a small remote control from my clutch, and pointed it at the giant LED screen behind us.

The romantic video of our seven-year journey cut out instantly.

In its place, a massive screenshot of Julian's Snapchat checklist titled "Who to Marry" filled the screen, followed by the insulting prenup, and his text saying I was just a "low-maintenance back-up."

The crowd erupted into a frenzy of gasps and shocked whispers.

Julian's face went dead pale. He lunged toward the control panel to shut it off, but my brother and cousins blocked him instantly.

"Are you out of your mind, Sera?!" Julian roared, his eyes wide with fury and shock.

"Julian, thank you for the 98-score you gave me," I said, my voice incredibly calm.

"I have a stable job, a sweet temper, I don't want your money, and I do all the chores. In your eyes, I really was the ultimate deal."

I curled my lips into a mocking smile.

"But I suddenly realized that being a highly cost-effective maid is incredibly boring."

With that, I slid the engagement ring off my finger and tossed it casually onto the floor.

"You"

Julian was shaking with rage, reaching out to grab my arm.

I stepped back, pulled the printed cancellation of engagement and the ripped prenup from my bag, and threw them right into his face.

"Julian, keep your cheap, manipulative love for someone else."

Looking at his crumbling expression, I said coldly:

"We're done."