I Was Supposed to Be His Wife. I Was Actually Just the Fifth Test. At 31, I thought I’d found my forever in Brandon—steady, sweet, Southern. But a “relaxing” beach week with his mother revealed the truth: I wasn’t the first fiancée brought to this house. I was the fifth. Tasks were assigned, feet were offered, expectations quietly tested. And I failed—gloriously.
One overheard conversation cracked the illusion. By sunrise, I’d packed, left a few pointed notes (and muffins with extra lemon), and walked away from the porch, the ring, and the cycle.
I’m not a test. I’m not wife #5-in-training. I’m Kiara—and I chose myself.
