The 13th Time He Stood Me Up

Julian and I played house for five years—minus the actual marriage certificate. Because he bailed on me at the registry office twelve times. All for Mia, some intern.

First time: Mia screwed up her pitch.

Sixth time: Mia had the flu.

Twelfth time: Mia's ex showed up at our architecture firm throwing punches. Julian had to play knight in shining armor. I got knocked into a desk, cracked my head open—he didn't spare me a glance before whisking her off to the ER.

Before, I would've lost it. Screamed. Sobbed. Begged him to tell me who the hell he was actually planning to marry. And every single time, Julian would sigh and say, "Chloe, really? She's just an intern. Practically a child."

This time, all I said was: "Go ahead."

Then I turned around and took that job overseas.

When his thirteenth text came through—yet another registry office reschedule—I was already at the gate for my London flight.

This time? I'm choosing me.

Chloe's POV

I'd lived with Julian for five years. He'd promised to marry me eleven times.

Today made it twelve.

On my thirtieth birthday, he said we'd go to the courthouse after work to get our marriage license.

But when I walked toward him clutching our application, he was at Mia's desk, patiently helping her revise the Hudson Yards facade drawings.

I stood there for fifteen minutes. The edges of the application grew damp with sweat from my grip. He never once looked up.

Our colleagues whispered around us. I watched curiosity turn to pity in their eyes.

They all saw it. Everyone except Julian.

Or maybe he just didn't want to see.

"Julian—" I started, but the office door slammed open.

Mia's ex-boyfriend Derek stormed in, face flushed red, heading straight for Mia's desk.

"Mia! You BITCH! Cheating on me with some married asshole!"

The entire floor went silent.

Mia screamed and stumbled backward. Derek raised his hand to hit her.

Julian didn't hesitate. He lunged forward. The two men crashed together, sending chairs toppling and papers flying everywhere.

I moved instinctively to pull them apart. In the chaos, Derek jerked his arm free, and I stumbled backward. My arm slammed hard into the metal edge of a desk.

Emma from accounting caught me. Julian never even turned around.

Security took three minutes to pull them apart. They dragged Derek out, still cursing at the top of his lungs.

Julian immediately spun around to check on Mia.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I've got you." His voice was so gentle.

I looked down. Blood had soaked through my white sleeve, spreading from the elbow down. Blood dripped from my wrist onto the floor.

It should've hurt. But I was numb.

Outside the building, winter wind cut across my face.

Julian guided Mia toward his car. I followed behind, each step sending pain shooting through my arm.

"Julian." I called out.

He turned, frowning.

"Chloe, I need to take Mia to the hospital for a checkup. She's in shock. She can't be alone right now."

"Today's my birthday." I held up the marriage application, my voice steady. "We were supposed to go register after work. Remember?"

Julian blinked, then that all-too-familiar look of impatience crossed his face.

"I know, Chloe, but look at Mia's state right now..." He paused. "I made us a reservation at Eleven Madison Park. I'll pick you up as soon as I'm done."

"Okay." I nodded. "Go ahead."

My calmness clearly caught him off guard. He stared at me for several seconds, his mouth working silently.

But Mia started crying again inside the car.

"I'll be right back." He threw the words over his shoulder and rushed to the driver's side.

He murmured something soothing to her through the window, then the engine started. The car pulled away.

The entire time, he never noticed the blood seeping from my arm.

It wasn't always like this.

Years ago, if I so much as scraped my knee on a job site, he'd drop everything and drive me to the hospital. He used to say seeing me hurt broke his heart.

But now—

I watched his taillights disappear into Manhattan traffic. December wind cut through my coat, but my heart felt colder.

This was the twelfth time he'd postponed our marriage registration because of Mia.

And the last.

I walked to the trash bin outside our office building and tore the marriage application into pieces, watching the fragments flutter down like snow.

It was time to end this eight-year relationship.

I went straight back upstairs and knocked on Robert's door. He was our HR director.

"Chloe? What happened to your arm—"

"I quit."

"WHAT?" Robert shot to his feet. "Chloe, you just landed the Hudson Yards project! The board's preparing to nominate you for partner! Have you told Julian?"

I smiled faintly. "He has other priorities at the moment."

Robert was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "You two... you used to be the most enviable couple in this company. I still remember that wedding three years ago..."

Yeah. Used to be.

Back then, I was all he saw. Now she's all he sees.

"I'll complete all handovers within two weeks." I cut him off. "Thank you for everything over the years, Robert."

Walking out of his office, my phone buzzed. I opened Instagram. Mia had posted half an hour ago.

The photo showed Julian's back as he cooked in a kitchen. He wore an apron, chopping vegetables.

Caption: "Thankful for the best mentor ever �� Julian helped me find a new apartment today and even cooked dinner for me! So blessed ��✨ #BestBossEver"

I stared at the photo, my fingers frozen on the screen.

Julian hated cooking smells. In eight years, he'd never once cooked me a meal.

I laughed bitterly. So it wasn't that he didn't like to cook. He just didn't like cooking for me.

At 9 PM, I returned to our empty apartment.

I made instant ramen for dinner. Happy thirtieth birthday to me.

Then I opened my laptop and pulled up my email.

My inbox held dozens of job offers from architecture firms around the world. I scrolled through them one by one, finally stopping at an email from Foster + Partners in London.

Subject: "Senior Architect Position - London Office"

Five years ago, I'd received an offer to study at London's top architecture school.

Julian and I had a massive fight about it. He hated long-distance relationships, hated that "loss of control."

I thought about it for an entire night. In the end, I turned London down.

Because I thought he was worth giving up the world for.

But now I understood. No man is worth giving up everything for. After all, I couldn't even compete with an intern.

I took a deep breath and clicked reply: "I accept this position. When should I start?"

Send.

I looked out at the New York skyline. Those twinkling lights used to feel warm. Now they just looked harsh.

"Julian," I whispered to the empty room, "this time, it's my turn."