Marrying Without My Eight-Year Boyfriend Knowing
Chapter 13

I didn't return to the office.

Instead, I called my best friend, Chloe, and asked her to meet me for drinks.

Chloe teased, "Your man's okay with letting you out? I'm worried he'll hit you with his 'eighteen consecutive calls' routine."

Sipping my cocktail, I smiled bitterly. "Not anymore."

I used to love sneaking out with Chloe for a few drinks. Every time Benjamin found out, he'd relentlessly call Chloe until she told him where we were. He'd then show up, jogging over to me to complain:

"If you want to drink, I can go with you. Why does it always have to be Chloe?" His interference left Chloe so annoyed that she nearly got into a fight with him. "This is my best friend, you nosy man! What's it to you if we go out drinking?" "This is my fiancée, you meddling bestie! If you want to drink, call your man!" Back then, it was playful and lighthearted.

But now, Chloe noticed my mood immediately and understood what had happened. Her anger flared.

"You've been with him for so many years. How is this not fixable?"

"Wait, I'll call him."

I stopped her, shaking my head. "Do you know what today is?"

"It was supposed to be the day we got married, Chloe. But he refused. Do you know why?"

I downed my drink in one go. "He said our love has turned into family affection. He says he's lost the spark."

“That's total BS! If it's all family now, why doesn't he marry his damn secretary? Men are all jerks!"

Chloe, fuming, paced in circles, itching to go replace Benjamin and punch him. Finally, she wrapped her arms around me tightly.

Chloe and I grew up together. Our bond was even deeper than what I shared with Benjamin. She's three years older than me and has always treated me like a little sister, protecting me since childhood.

I've always been confident, carefree, and accomplished. Never had I been so broken, like a wounded puppy.

Chloe pulled me down from the barstool and dragged me toward the stage.

"Forget that jerk. Big Sis will replace you some top-tier options!"

"Whatever kind you want, just point, and I'll get him for you."

"If one isn't enough, we'll switch!"

The blasting music shook my chest and drowned out my pain. I let loose, swaying wildly as the alcohol clouded my mind.

Somewhere in the haze, I caught a faint, pleasant scent.

It smelled like autumn citrus-subtle, not overwhelming.

Unknowingly, I wandered off the stage, drawn toward it, and grabbed a young man's sleeve.

He froze, clearly startled. Without hesitation, I tugged at his collar.

"Sophia?"

I thought I heard him call my name, but maybe I imagined it. He was unexpectedly tall, and I had to tiptoe to pull his head down to my level.

Grinning like a sly fox, I asked, "Hey, handsome, are you a model? Your body's incredible."

"Wanna come with me? I'll pay."

My mind was already a mess, and the citrusy scent on him made it worse. A ridiculous thought crept into my head:

*If he can replace a woman, why can't I replace a man?*

"You smell so good," I murmured.

As soon as I grabbed him, I leaned in and kissed him.

To my surprise, he didn't resist. What started as a drunken whim turned into

something much deeper. He kissed me back, fiercely, like a tiger sinking its teeth into prey, leaving me breathless.

I don't remember how we ended up in a car. All I knew was that my stomach churned.

Panicked, I slapped his shoulder hard, trying to catch my breath.

And then I threw up all over him and the car.