While I Was Choking, He Was Cheating on the Dance Floor Novel – When my asthma attack hit, Vance was in the middle of the banquet hall, dancing way too close with his secretary. Even as I collapsed, gasping for breath and slipping into unconsciousness, he held her tight, whispering sweet nothings and laughing like nothing was wrong. On the way home, I found a diamond ring stashed in the glove compartment.
Before I could say a word, Vance snatched it away with a scowl. “It’s not for you.” I simply nodded, pointed to the bridal boutique up ahead, and said calmly, “Pull over.” The custom wedding gown I’d ordered— Looking back now, it was time to return it. As soon as I stepped inside the bridal shop, Vance got out of the car and followed me in. He threw a woman’s coat in my face. “Luna, stop being so careless.
Quit leaving your crap everywhere.” Vance was a neat freak—he never let me leave anything in his car. I glanced down at the coat on the floor and said flatly, “It’s not mine.” His expression softened instantly. He picked the coat up without hesitation and folded it neatly. I knew it was Isla’s. Every time she “accidentally” left something behind, it would lead to another screaming match between me and Vance. But this time, I said nothing. I just turned and gave my phone number to the store clerk.
The clerk beamed at us. “You two came at the perfect time! Your custom dress and tux are ready for fitting.” Before I could decline, the same man who’d just humiliated me walked straight into the fitting room with a cold, unreadable face. Ten minutes later, I stood in front of him in the wedding gown. He curled his lip. “Tacky.” I didn’t reply. Instead, I asked the clerk to take a photo of me. Vance looked irritated. Just as he stepped forward, probably to force a couple’s photo, his phone rang. Isla’s custom ringtone.
She was sobbing on the other end, saying her favorite coat was missing. She swore that if someone returned it, she’d devote herself to him for the rest of her life. Vance hung up and left—still wearing the tux. As I listened to the sound of his car peeling out of the parking lot, I grabbed a pair of scissors and shredded the wedding dress to pieces. At 1:30 a.m., while packing my personal things, I got a WhatsApp message. [Drinking.] After eight years together, it was rare for him to voluntarily tell me where he was. I looked down at the cleaning gloves in my hands and didn’t reply.
I finished packing, took a long, hot shower, and went straight to bed. The next morning, just as I was taking out the trash, Vance came home. He stared at me like something was off. “Your phone broken?” I shook my head. His brows knitted instantly. I knew why he asked. In the past, whenever he stayed out too late, I’d blow up his phone with calls and texts. But last night? Nothing but silence. As I stepped outside, he called after me again. “Luna, where’s that photo of us from the wall?” I glanced at the trash bag in my hand, about to tell him the truth— But his phone buzzed.
He brushed past me and hit the voice message button without hesitation. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll bring it to you as soon as it’s done.” I heard the bathroom faucet running behind him as I headed out with the trash.