Their deposit was non-refundable, but the date could be released if notice was given early enough. I sent the same message. Catering was a partial refund situation depending on timing. We were still far enough out that it was mostly safe.
By the time I finished the third email, my brain had fully switched into logistics mode. I wasn't thinking about Laura sitting in that restaurant laughing with her ex. I was thinking about how much money I could recover before anything became final. At 10:15, my phone buzzed again.
Another message from Laura. She asked if I could transfer 2,000 euros from our joint savings to the wedding account because the decorator needed confirmation for upgraded lighting. That message actually made me laugh. Not loudly, just a quiet, short laugh that surprised even me.
While she was having an anniversary dinner with Nico, she was still actively spending my overtime money on the wedding she apparently didn't take seriously enough to stay loyal for. I didn't reply right away. Instead, I opened the decorator contract and checked the cancellation clause. Non-refundable once final design approval is submitted.
I logged into the vendor portal and saw that Laura had already approved the upgraded lighting package earlier that afternoon. Of course she had. At that point, the last piece of doubt disappeared. This wasn't confusion or mixed feelings or some emotional mistake.
This was someone fully comfortable living two different lives at the same time. So I finished sending the rest of the cancellation emails. Then I logged into the wedding website and changed the password. Once the emails were sent and the website password was changed, the apartment felt unusually quiet.
Not peaceful, just empty in a practical way, like a place you already know you are about to leave behind. I looked around the living room and realized something simple. Almost everything in the apartment was mine. The lease was in my name because my credit was stronger.
The couch was mine from before we moved in together. The TV, the kitchen table, even most of the cookware came from my old place. Laura had brought clothes, cosmetics, decorations, and a collection of plants that she regularly forgot to water. So the next logical step felt obvious.
I started gathering her things. Not in an angry way. No throwing or dramatic gestures. I grabbed two of the large storage boxes from the closet and carried them into the bedroom.
Her side of the closet was easy. Dresses first, shoes second, handbags after that. I folded what made sense to fold and laid the rest flat. The boxes filled faster than I expected.
While I worked, my phone buzzed again. Laura sent a photo of a cocktail. The caption said, "Team survival drink." The restaurant logo was visible on the napkin in the corner of the picture.
The same restaurant from the reservation. She either didn't notice it or didn't care enough to crop it. I didn't reply. Instead, I moved to the bathroom and cleared half the cabinet.
Makeup bags, hair tools, skincare bottles that cost more than my weekly groceries. Everything went into another box. The whole process took about an hour. By the time I finished, four boxes were stacked neatly by the front door.
I also added the small decorative things she liked. Picture frames she bought. The throw pillow that she insisted made the couch look less depressing. The framed wedding invitation sample she had hung in the hallway two weeks ago.