My Fiancé Got Used to Saying, “Let’s Break Off the Engagement,” so I Decided To Give Him What He Wanted.

My Fiancé Got Used to Saying, “Let’s Break Off the Engagement,” so I Decided To Give Him What He Wanted.

Raw: https://ncode.syosetu.com/n0612lb/

Suddenly — I regained memories from a past life.

Memories of a high school girl who grew up in a country called Japan on a world called Earth.

At the very end, during club activities, she just collapsed from heatstroke… summer heat is terrifying.

I learned first-hand how important it is to stay hydrated and keep your salt levels up.

Then I was conceived in my mother’s womb, born eventually, and raised as the youngest daughter of a Duke — utterly doted on.

I have two older brothers. Both were raised to be extremely competent: they were the heirs, in a way — spares, if you put it bluntly — and they turned out brilliantly.

The eldest brother succeeded our father and became the Duke; he even has a nephew now. The younger brother is so competent he supports himself as a civil servant and hasn’t married — he’s a workaholic.

As for me, thanks to a cheat of knowledge from my past life and a ridiculously beautiful body in this life, I was treated like a prodigy from childhood.

At eighteen — now of an appropriate age to marry — I’d perfected playing the part of a lady so well they called me “the very picture of a proper young woman.”

Still, even though marriage seemed imminent, I had something that worried me.

My relationship with my fiancé.

I met my fiancé when I was five.

He was my fiancé from birth. Even as a child he was a gorgeous boy; we looked like a perfect match, if I say so myself.

He treated me with a clumsy but earnest care, and I returned that affection in kind. So I wasn’t worried at all—until…

“My childhood friend, huh.”

The words slipped out of my mouth as a small, almost helpless complaint.

My fiancé had a childhood friend.

A cute girl.

Apparently she’d been abused by her family.

They said she was born out of wedlock or something like that.

“My fiancé took that childhood friend in.”

He didn’t “take her in” in any sordid way — he put her up in a separate house on the grounds of his estate.

He’d gotten permission from her parents and from my parents.

His family and the servants all testified that there was nothing inappropriate going on.

“…Well, there’s no real problem.”

Right — there wasn’t a problem. He had done everything he could to help her, and then taken her in.

So the only issue was the fog in my own heart.

“What I don’t like is that there’s a woman who’s important to him besides me. I don’t like imagining that if something happened, he’d rush to protect her instead of me.”

In short: ugly jealousy.

But he wasn’t free to indulge me.

When we talked it over once, he flatly told me he didn’t have time to deal with my ugly jealousy. Which was fair — he’d just inherited the title of a frontier marquis and was busy. He also apparently had to care for the heart of the earl’s daughter who’d been taken in.

“Anyway, during the discussion about the childhood friend, he said it — ‘Let’s break off the engagement.’”

The first time he said it he looked embarrassed, like he’d blurted it.

I cried and clung to him then.

Because I truly believed there was no man I could marry except him.

But he soothed me, retracted his declaration that time, and yet he looked genuinely pleased with my crying clinginess.

After that, whenever something happened he’d immediately say, “Let’s break off the engagement.”

“…Maybe I should just accept breaking off the engagement for real.”

I was tired of hearing it.

It was the same annoying habit as some ex-boyfriend from my past life who would always blurt out “Let’s break up” at the drop of a hat.

Fine — I’d really break it off.

I did the groundwork around me.

“Groundwork” was just telling my doting parents and brothers the facts: “I’m jealous of his childhood friend, and when I tried to talk about it, he said ‘let’s break off the engagement.’ Since I cried and clung to him that one time, whenever anything happens he keeps saying it.”

“What do you mean, ‘whenever anything happens’ exactly?”

“Brother, you don’t have to ask so bluntly…”

“Like small fights, or when I got hurt by some casual remark of his and cried…”

“Yeah…”

“My brothers had complicated looks, but they took my side. My parents were my side from the start.”

Then we talked to his parents. My parents added that if the same thing happens again, they’ll accept breaking off the engagement, and explained to his parents what I’d told mine.

It had always been a marriage with little gain for either side — it had come together because my father and his father were on good terms.

To be honest, whether we broke the engagement or not wouldn’t do either family much harm beyond some scandal.

The scandal was scary, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry about our son.”

“Thank you for giving us one last chance. If it happens again, do as you please. I’ll speak to our son about it.”

“Yes, please do.”

After my parents and his parents were quietly aligned, I went to meet my fiancé.

When we met again after a while, he had a sulky expression.

I thought, “Ah, this is going nowhere.”

“Why did you have to go tell your parents? It was just a lovers’ quarrel.”

“I couldn’t see it as just a lovers’ quarrel, so I reported it.”

“You go and defy me again like that! If you hate me that much, shall we break off the engagement?”

And there it was — the face he made when he said it.

I ignored him and hurried to his parents.

I said there had been a declaration to break the engagement, and that I would accept it — and then I thanked them for everything.

His parents looked disappointed but promised to pay consolation money and suggested we handle it by annulling the engagement rather than leaving it as a scandal.

So, despite his protests, we caught him, met up with my parents, submitted the paperwork to the church to annul the engagement, took the consolation money handed to us on the spot, and said goodbye.

In that anticlimactic way, our relationship ended.

I met her when I was five.

A pre-arranged engagement, brought about because our parents got along.

The other girl — the childhood friend — was so cute I’d fallen at first sight.

She was good at everything, and I was proud to be with someone so excellent.

To keep up, I worked hard at studying and exercising.

But even that perfect girl had an ugly side.

When I’d finally become a good man who matched her in study and sport, it came out that the childhood friend had been abused.

I sheltered her in a separate house on the estate.

Then my fiancée got jealous.

She said it hurt that I would prioritize the childhood friend — she was afraid I’d prioritize that girl in an emergency.

In the end, it was jealousy.

Seeing the imperfect side of someone who’d always seem perfect made me feel a touch of dark superiority.

But as our arguments heated up, I slipped and said it.

“Let’s break off the engagement.”

I panicked at what I’d said, but my fiancée cried and clung to me.

I withdrew the declaration and calmed her down — and I felt happy.

Was she so in love she’d cry like that?

After that, she kept bringing up breaking the engagement whenever anything happened.

She cried less and less.

She clung to me less and less.

Then she reported me to her parents.

Apparently, she said she would accept breaking the engagement if I said it again.

That’s absurd — to accept breaking off the engagement with the man she loved so much she had clung to me in tears.

I didn’t hide my displeasure, and I said it again.

“Let’s break off the engagement.”

She told her parents she’d accept it.

Her parents paid no small consolation money and decided to annul the engagement.

I had my engagement with the woman I loved so much wiped away.

I had someone I loved.

A childhood friend — the boy I grew up with.

But he had been born with a fiancé from birth.

That boy only got more wonderful day by day.

By the time he was of marriageable age, he’d become a perfect man.

He succeeded the marquis of the borderlands.

Then, before marriage, he learned I’d been abused at home.

Despite not being married yet, he sheltered me in the separate house.

My fiancé didn’t see me; she was jealous and wouldn’t meet me.

He apparently kept bringing up breaking the engagement to his fiancée.

Eventually, he really did annul the engagement — the papers were made void.

His parents quietly paid a not-insignificant consolation sum from their private funds, and with that, he was free.

I hoped — and asked him, “If you’re willing, would you go out with me?” — but he said, “I won’t marry anyone but her. I’d rather stay single for life.”

After that, I married a rich older man as his second wife through his connections.

I’m reasonably happy now.

Even as a second wife, my husband had no children before me, so he doted on any child born and treated me kindly.

We don’t want for money — we can afford a comfortable life.

Still, thinking back about my childhood friend made my chest ache.

I used to love him.

He truly remained single.

He apparently designated a much younger brother as his successor. That younger brother is a good kid, so it’ll be fine.

…What did I do wrong?

I annulled my engagement at eighteen, and now I’m twenty-four.

I’m still technically of marriageable age, but I don’t feel like marrying.

Since then, my eldest brother had a son and then a daughter; my younger brother finally married and had a son. I’m the only one unmarried in the family, but they don’t pressure me.

I felt bad being a kept member of the family, so I took up work as a designer and composer and do a lot of things.

That income let me leave the estate and live independently.

By the way, all my dress designs and song lyrics and compositions are cheap tricks based on my past-life knowledge.

Please forgive me for that — I wouldn’t survive otherwise.

Thanks to that past-life knowledge, even while living independently, I was blessed with more than enough money to indulge myself and still have leftovers.

My ex-fiancé somehow remained single but seemed fine.

I heard his childhood friend was living happily.

Fortunately, the reputational damage to both our families faded quickly and neither household was much affected.

All that was left was for me to be happy.

But I was already living independently and didn’t feel forced to marry. Marriage isn’t the only path to happiness.

That’s what I thought — until this happened.

“…The child of Father’s cousin’s secret child?”

“Yeah. I checked the blood relation with magic — it’s a match.”

So, in short, it was a distant (or maybe not so distant) relative.

That child had apparently lost his parents and was all alone.

And for some reason he came to rely on our household.

“Why here?”

“I don’t know. But we can’t ignore him…”

“Aah… right…”

No one in my family is cold-hearted enough to tell a skinny, tearful child to get lost.

I now feel sorry — perhaps my ex-fiancé felt the same way when he took his childhood friend in.

Though I still haven’t forgiven him for repeatedly suggesting breaking off the engagement.

“…Then I’ll adopt him.”

“What? We’re not even married yet.”

“Brother! Sorry, Leticia. But I don’t want to act rashly now… I wasn’t planning to marry anyway, but I wanted children, and I promise I’ll treasure him… is that bad?”

“…Well, Leticia can live independently, and she’s financially secure… that seems fine.”

So we took in Father’s cousin’s secret child as an adopted son.

We submitted the paperwork at the church, confirmed the blood relation with magic, and completed the procedure.

This child — Leonardo — became my son.

By the way, Leo’s parents were apparently attacked by a random assailant.

First things first: we needed to care for this traumatized child.

A year after taking Leo in.

He’s put on weight and his frame has gotten sturdier.

He’s emotionally more stable.

At first he couldn’t quite get used to aristocratic life, but taking him in at five meant he absorbed manners and common sense smoothly.

Once he learns a little education, he’ll be alright.

Strictly speaking, I still hold noble status but not a title.

If Leo can earn his own living like me someday, that’ll be perfect.

So what remained was…

“Does Leo need a father, or not?”

That was the issue.

I wondered if he did.

He needed someone who would treasure him.

That’s when my younger brother spoke up.

“Hey, Shia. For Leo’s sake and yours, why don’t you marry a decent man?”

He wanted to introduce a capable, single man from among his civil servant colleagues.

I hesitated but agreed to meet him.

“Leticia here, and this is my son Leo.”

“I’m Mike. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Uh — nice to meet you…”

We agreed to meet as three people and see how it went.

Leo then…

“Mr. Mike, that’s amazing! How do you do it?”

“Fold it like this, then like this!”

“Wow, a beautiful butterfly!”

Mr. Mike had no obvious childcare experience, but he was oddly skilled — maybe because he had many younger siblings.

…If it was with this man, I might be okay with marrying him.

“Hey, Leo.”

“What is it, Mother?”

“If Mr. Mike became your father, would you like that?”

Both of them looked at me with wide eyes.

But Leo said, “I’d be happy!”

“So, Mr. Mike, would you date me with marriage in mind?”

“You truly love his son. If that’s the case, I’d be happy to.”

So I started dating Mike with marriage in mind.

Three years later we registered our marriage.

We even held a ceremony — a happy one with Leo between us.

Rumor has it my ex-fiancé got sick and bedridden when he heard I’d married, but I don’t know for sure.

I heard the childhood friend still lives happily.

“Leo! Ria! Snack time!”

“Yes, big brother, hurry up!”

“Okay, let’s race to see who gets there first!”

“No running!”

“The kids are so lively.”

After that, Leo’s little sister — the child Mike and I had — was born.

Leo gets along well with his much younger sister. Remilia adores him; we all love the two of them.

A perfectly picture-book happy family.

At the time, right after I broke off things with my ex-fiancé, I honestly wondered if this had been the right choice — but now I can say with my chest out that it was.

Because now I’m this happy.

“Mother, I’m home!”

“Father’s home too!”

“Welcome back, Leo, Ria.”

“Welcome home, you two.”

May this happiness continue forever.