The Ten-Pound Breakup Chapter 1

My fiancé gained ten pounds before our wedding physical.

I broke up with him on the spot.

He rubbed his temples, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Is my appearance really that important to you? I can lose the weight, Amrita. I promise.”

I just shook my head.

“No, it’s not that,” I said, my voice steady. “At your last check-up, you were diagnosed with fatty liver disease. For your health, you promised me you’d eat clean.”

I calmly held up my phone, showing him the screenshot. A private Instagram story he’d hidden from me. The background was our newly renovated condo, the one we were supposed to move into after the wedding.

In the photo, a delicate hand with a perfect manicure was placing a box of beef into a bubbling hot pot for him.

“I’m the one eating boiled vegetables and chicken breast with you every night,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “So who’s the girl treating you to hot pot, barbecue, and pizza?”

* * *

The color drained from Allen’s face.

“Amrita, listen to me, I can explain…”

Before he could get the words out, his phone buzzed on the table. It had been doing that at the same time every day for weeks. I’d always assumed it was work. Now I knew better.

I didn’t even look up. “Put it on speaker.”

The phone rang for a full thirty seconds, a shrill, insistent sound in the tense silence. Finally, he swiped to answer, his thumb hovering over the speaker icon before pressing down.

“Allen, honey,” a sweet voice cooed from the speaker. “I made that spicy poached fish you love. When are you coming over?”

A cold sweat broke out on Allen’s forehead, his lips trembling. He finally managed to choke out a single sentence. “I’m not coming.”

Then he scrambled to hang up.

But it was too late. I recognized that voice. It belonged to his ex-girlfriend of ten years, Isabelle.

A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “After all this time. Of course, it’s still her.”

I snatched my car keys from the table and walked toward the door.

“Come on,” I said, looking back at him. “Let’s go have some of that fish, shall we?”

The drive to our—to my—condo took twenty minutes. The renovations had just been finished last month. I’m a sentimental person; I wanted to wait until we were officially married to spend our first night there together.

The bed, a custom piece I’d designed myself, had cost me over ten thousand dollars. I’d never even laid down on it. But apparently, another woman had.

A wave of nausea washed over me. I felt sick.

“Amrita… Isabelle just got laid off, and her landlord scammed her out of her deposit. She had nowhere else to go. She called me, crying… We all went to college together, you know? I was just letting her crash for a few days…”

He kept rambling, his excuses a meaningless buzz in my ear as we waited for the elevator. I tuned him out.

The moment I opened the door, a sharp pain lanced through my chest, even though I thought I was prepared. I’d been so busy with work, and Allen had insisted the paint fumes were still too strong, that I hadn't been back to see the place.

I didn’t recognize it.

A fluffy pink throw was draped over the sofa. A bouquet of yellow roses and baby’s breath sat on the coffee table. The kitchen was fully stocked, and a clay pot on the stove was simmering, sending fragrant steam into the air.

It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my throat, cutting off my air.

“Woof! Woof!”

A small Pomeranian scampered out of the bedroom, followed closely by Isabelle. The two of them, woman and dog, looked more like they belonged here than I ever would.

The sheer audacity of it all made me want to laugh.

Isabelle wrung her hands, the picture of innocence. “Amrita, I’m so sorry. I’m in a really tough spot. I’ll move out as soon as I find a place.”

Before I could say a word, Allen exploded.

“Isabelle, I’ve done more than enough for you!” he roared. “You have two days. Find a job and get out. If you can’t, go back to your hometown and stop screwing up my life!”

He stomped into the living room, grabbing the pink throw and the vase of flowers, and hurled them into the trash can.

“This is my and Amrita’s home! I let you stay here out of pity, don’t push your luck!”

His words brought tears to Isabelle’s eyes. She scooped up her dog, looking lost and hurt. “Allen… please don’t be so cruel.”

“Don’t call me Allen! You don’t have the right!”

He was putting on quite a show. You’d almost think she’d moved in without his permission.

He pointed a shaking finger at the dinner table. “And I never wanted to eat this crap! You’re the one who insisted on cooking it!”

The next thing I knew, he’d flipped the entire table over.

Isabelle shrieked as hot oil and broth splattered onto her arm, a red welt instantly forming on her skin. Silent tears streamed down her face.

She looked at Allen, her voice trembling with grief. “Do you really not want my food? Or are you just scared of her, saying things you don’t mean?”

Her voice cracked. “Every time you came here, you were starving. She has you on that crazy diet, she won’t even let you eat a proper meal. I feel so sorry for you, and this is how you treat me?”

The sobs wracked her body. “Nothing happened with Leo back then, I swear. We were just drunk. I loved you so much, Allen. How could I ever betray you?”

“Shut up!”

A flash of raw agony crossed Allen’s face. Right. I’d almost forgotten. They hadn’t broken up because they fell out of love. They broke up because Allen was convinced she’d cheated on him.