Chapter 1: The Price of Loyalty

My boyfriend and I broke up over a $15,000 wedding gift for my parents.

It’s wild, looking back now. After living together for three years, he was convinced I had no choice but to marry him. He just couldn’t bring himself to put up that money. The arrogance of it still makes me shake my head, I swear.

Later, he dropped $45,000 on a wedding—to marry a woman he met through a church singles event. Someone he’d only known for two months.

Just like that, she took all his money and vanished. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a twinge of satisfaction when I heard. Karma, right?

We’d been giving each other the silent treatment for a week now—me and Carter Rowley.

It all started when we talked about getting married and I mentioned the wedding fund for my parents. The look on his face said it all—he’d never even thought about it. It was like I’d asked him to donate a kidney.

After that fight, we just stopped talking. The silence was thick and prickly, like a storm about to break.

That day after work, I stood at the door, keys in hand, when I heard voices inside. I froze.

I frowned. This was the apartment Carter and I rented together. Neither of us ever invited friends over. So who was in there? My stomach twisted.

I pressed my ear to the door, trying to catch what they were saying. I felt ridiculous, but curiosity—and dread—kept me glued to the spot.

"Listen to your mom—just ignore her. See who breaks first."

"That’s what I was thinking too."

"Fifteen thousand for a wedding gift, and she wants to give it all to her parents? Does she even deserve to ask for that much? No offense, but is she really worth it?"

"I told her, everyone gives the wedding money back to the couple these days, but she flat-out refused."

"If she won’t agree, just drag it out and don’t get married yet. She’s already twenty-five, been with you for three years—where’s she going to find someone better? Trust me, she won’t leave you. Give it another year or two, when she’s twenty-seven or twenty-eight, she and her parents will be begging you to marry her."

"Yeah, my mom’s always right."

It was sweltering outside, but leaning against the doorframe, I felt frozen all over. My fingers went numb around the keys. It was like I’d been dunked in a bucket of ice water, right there in the hallway.

Last year during Thanksgiving, I visited Carter’s family for the first time. His mom was nothing but warm and thoughtful, even asking what flavors I liked when she cooked. When we left, she told me if Carter ever treated me badly, I should let her know and she’d set him straight.

I’d felt so comforted, thinking my future mother-in-law would be easy to get along with. Her kitchen was cozy, filled with the smell of cinnamon and cloves, and she hugged me goodbye, her arms strong and reassuring.

When people treat me well, I never let them down. That’s just how I was raised, you know?

Just last month, for her birthday, I bought her a gold necklace and mailed it to her. I even wrote a little note, thanking her for welcoming me into the family.

I finally understood what people mean when they say you never really know someone. I guess you never really know what’s going on behind closed doors.

I pulled myself together, rattled the keys on purpose, and opened the door. My heart was pounding, but I kept my face calm.

Their conversation died instantly. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

"Oh, Lily, you’re home!" his mom jumped up. "Tired from work?"

"Mrs. Rowley, when did you get here? Why didn’t you let us know so Carter and I could pick you up?" I feigned surprise. My voice was steady, even though I wanted to scream.

"Didn’t you say last time you liked the peanuts from back home? They just finished harvesting, so I picked out the freshest, biggest ones for you." She smiled and pointed at the big box by the door.

"And I brought you some farm eggs too. You two are so thin—make sure you eat well."

If I hadn’t just heard what they said, I might’ve actually felt touched. The box was decorated with a cheerful red ribbon. It looked so innocent.

"Let me make dinner for you," she offered, looking a bit embarrassed. "But I’m not great with all those kitchen appliances."

"I’ll do it, Mrs. Rowley," I said, getting up. I forced a smile, trying to keep my voice light.

"How could I let you do all the work? I’ll go, you just show me how to use everything."

"It’s fine, you’re a guest."

She didn’t insist and sat back down. She smoothed her skirt, glancing at Carter like she was waiting for him to back her up.

While I cooked, I heard them in the living room, laughing loudly at the TV. Their laughter sounded fake to me now—forced and brittle.

A wave of sadness washed over me like never before. I stirred the soup, blinking back tears. The kitchen light was suddenly too bright.

At dinner, Carter and I didn’t say a word to each other. The clink of forks and knives was the only sound between us. Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

His mom finally picked up on the tension.

"Did you two have a fight?" she asked me. "Lily, did this guy give you trouble?"

How could she not know what happened or why we fought? Her acting could rival a pro. I almost wanted to applaud.

"No, nothing like that. I’m just a little tired from work," I said with a smile. I lied through my teeth.

"Oh, that’s good," she sighed in relief. Her shoulders relaxed, and she went back to picking at her salad.

After dinner, she insisted on doing the dishes. This time, I didn’t stop her. I just let her go, not even pretending to play the gracious hostess.

She took the plates to the kitchen, leaving just me and Carter. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of us said a word.

He didn’t even glance my way—just flopped onto the couch, glued to his phone. His thumbs moved rapidly, scrolling through something I couldn’t see.

Lately, because of our silent treatment, I’d been sleeping in the guest room. But since his mom was here, I had to give it up for her. I’d tossed my pillow and blanket onto the living room couch earlier, knowing I’d have to make do.

That night, after she washed up and went to bed, Carter was in the bedroom gaming.

He’s a Twitch streamer—has to go live every night. The blue glow under the door? I’d gotten used to it.

I quietly went in, grabbed my clothes, and went to shower. I took a thin blanket and lay down on the couch. The springs creaked under me, and I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the faint hum of his voice through the wall.

The bedroom door creaked—he came out, used the bathroom, then went back in. Seeing me on the sofa, he didn’t react at all. He didn’t even pause, just brushed past me like I was invisible.

The living room was pitch black, and I could faintly hear him interacting with viewers in the bedroom, thanking someone for a donation. The sound was muffled, but I could pick out the excitement in his voice.

Tears slid down my cheeks. My heart was frozen. I wiped them away, angry at myself for still caring.

How did two people who once loved each other end up like this? I wondered if he was asking himself the same thing, or if he even noticed.

Carter and I dated for two years in college, then lived together for three after graduation. I always thought we got along great and that marriage would be a natural next step, no drama.

I still remember when we first graduated, how fired up he was: "I’m going to work hard and marry you as soon as I can, Lily."

Back then, I’d told him my plans. I was so sure of us, so open about everything.

In high school, my dad had a bad car accident. The treatment wiped out our savings. When I got into college, I planned to take out a student loan, but my parents wouldn’t hear of it. They thought it would make me look bad at school, that classmates would look down on me. No matter how much I explained that loans weren’t shameful, they just wouldn’t agree.

So they borrowed from relatives to scrape together my tuition. I never knew how much pride it cost them.

I majored in accounting, and my schedule was packed—often from morning until after nine at night. That left me little time for part-time jobs, and what little I made just covered my living expenses. My parents paid my tuition all four years; I only earned my own spending money.

After graduation, I found out my parents had borrowed for the first two years’ tuition. My dad had just recovered and couldn’t work too hard, so his income was low. My younger brother was still in high school, and the family was stretched thin. They never told me—they didn’t want me distracted from my studies.

When I learned all this, they said my dad’s pay had improved and they’d slowly paid back what they’d borrowed.

I never realized how tough things had been for them. I cried my eyes out. I remember sobbing in my childhood bedroom, feeling guilty and grateful all at once.

"I’m going to work hard and make sure I can give my parents $15,000 when I get married, to repay them for everything," I told Carter.

"Silly girl, how could I let you pay? I’ll give them more—a bigger gift—gotta thank them for raising such an amazing daughter. I’m the one getting the deal here," he said, wiping my tears.

"No need for more, just $15,000 is enough."

"No way! Fifteen thousand isn’t enough to show how much I value you!"

I couldn’t help but laugh through my tears. He hugged me, promising me the world.

Those words still echo in my ears, but the person who said them seems to have forgotten. I wish I could forget, too.

When I brought up the wedding gift, Carter started hemming and hawing, making all kinds of excuses—saying weddings cost a lot and so on.

Right then, I realized he had no intention of keeping his promise to give that $15,000.

He’d just bought a place and didn’t have much left. I understood. Honestly, I’d always planned to give the money myself. I never expected to actually take a wedding gift. He was the one who insisted. I agreed mainly because it would make him look better to my parents and reassure them I’d found a good match.

Since he didn’t want to do it, fine—I couldn’t force him. They’re my parents; I never expected anyone else to support them.

"Okay, forget the wedding gift. I’ve saved over $45,000 from work these past years—I’ll take out $15,000 for them," I said.

I never expected even that wouldn’t fly with him.

"You said you’d pay for the renovations if I bought the place. If you give your parents $15,000, you’ll only have a bit over $30,000 left. Is that enough for renovations?" he shot back.

I was stunned, speechless. I couldn’t tell if I was more shocked by how fast he thought of the renovations, or by the fact that he wouldn’t even agree to this.

"Isn’t the place only being handed over next October? That’s more than a year away—I can save more by then. Besides, after the main work, we can add the finishing touches gradually." It took me a while to respond.

"The wedding alone will be expensive, and I’ll be spending most of my money too. If you do this, we’ll have almost no savings left after getting married. I don’t want to start off strapped for cash, or lower our quality of life for someone else," he insisted.

"They’re not ‘someone else’—they’re my parents!" I couldn’t help but shout. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care.

"I never said I wouldn’t help your parents. When you send them gift cards for holidays, I never stopped you. If they need help after we’re married, we can support them and visit often with gifts. But giving $15,000 all at once? I just don’t see the point," Carter said firmly.

I got it—even before we’re married, he already thinks my money is his to sign off on. I have to get his approval to spend it.

"I earned this money. I have the right to decide how to use it," I said coldly.

"If that’s how it is, then there’s nothing more to say," he said, walking out.

And that’s how we started our silent treatment, not speaking for a week. The apartment felt colder, emptier every day.

The sound of the door opening snapped me out of my memories.

Carter came out with his clothes and went to shower in the bathroom. Was his stream over?

I checked my phone—it was already 1 a.m., but I wasn’t sleepy at all. My mind was spinning, replaying every word we’d said.

The shower ran for ten minutes, then he came out. A moment later, the bedroom door slammed shut. The noise echoed through the apartment.

I had work the next day. I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep. I wrapped the blanket tighter, trying to block out everything.

Maybe I drifted off for a bit, but in a daze, I heard Carter talking in the bedroom.

Wasn’t his stream over? Why was he still awake?

"Call me ‘champ,’ or I won’t let you out."

The voice was quiet, but in the dead of night, I could hear every word. I stared at the ceiling, numb.

I realized—he was still gaming.

He played all day, streamed all night, and somehow wasn’t tired, still gaming in the middle of the night. He really had stamina. Or maybe he was just running away from real life.

"Come on, say it—call me ‘champ,’ or ‘babe’ works too."

After a while, maybe the other person complied.

He said, "Damn, who could resist that? Let’s go, champ’s gonna carry you to victory."

He kept going: "If we win this round, you have to call me ‘babe.’"

I never knew Carter flirted with girls while gaming. He usually played solo squads, taking down everyone himself. Even in squads, he rarely spoke.

I’d forgotten—I was the one who helped Carter build his persona—the cool, silent sniper, ruthless and quiet.

Turns out, he could be a total flirt in-game. Maybe that was his real self. When streaming, he kept up the aloof act for the fans, but late at night, he let loose.

Oddly, hearing him say those flirty things to someone else, I felt nothing. Just a chilling calm. The kind of calm that comes after a hurricane, when there’s nothing left to break.

I guess when disappointment piles up, you stop caring.