He reached out to touch my face.

I tilted away without making it obvious, my voice flat. “I'm not keeping it.”

His fingers froze. His expression darkened. “You know how hard it was to conceive this baby. I don't want to hear that out of your mouth again.”

I laughed—a ridiculous, broken laugh.

I thought I was the only one who remembered.

Miscarrying our first child eight years ago after I drank at one of his business dinners. The pain. The collapse.

The doctor telling me I might never conceive again, and the hollow not-knowing that followed.

Him staying by my side, day and night, telling me just the two of us was enough for a lifetime.

Eight years of trying. Eight years of hope crushed flat, month after month.

And then, finally, the second baby. Sobbing so hard from joy I couldn't breathe.

His promises still echoed in my ears. But now he wouldn't even come to a prenatal appointment.

He stared at my smile and suddenly asked, “Why are you crying?”

I blinked. Raised my hand. My fingers came away cold and wet.

Something complicated moved through his eyes, and his voice softened.

“No one can replace your place in my heart.”

“It's just a ceremony—no papers. Once I've smoothed things over with her, I'll remarry you.”

I looked at him, long and steady. “Didn't you say you'd make it up to me? Take me on a trip. Let's go right now.”

He looked away. ：“There's still the wedding to prepare for……”

“Of course.” I nodded.

My calm unnerved him. A flicker of panic crossed his face, and for once he tried to explain. ：“I just don't think I could give you my full attention right now……”

Before he could finish, his phone rang.

A girl's voice, tearful, saying she woke up and couldn't find him. His tone changed instantly, soothing and urgent, and he was already walking toward the door.

At the threshold he cupped the phone against his shoulder and tossed back one last line. “Next time. I'll go with you next time.”

Then he was gone.

One “next time,” and ten thousand miles opened between us.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

“Dad. I want to come home.”

“How about Farley Group as a welcome-home present?”

I started packing, planning one last trip. A farewell tour.

Ten years of marriage deserved its own kind of ceremony at the end.

I didn't see Winston's message until I zipped the suitcase shut.

“April likes this house. Move out. I'm having it renovated for the wedding.”

My heart felt like it had been ground under a needle—tiny, dense stabs of pain, one after another.

Ten years really was too long.

Long enough for him to forget that I bought this house with every cent I had.

When we got married, he had nothing. Couldn't afford a house. Couldn't even afford a wedding.

All we did was sign the papers.

I didn't mind. He was the one who cried, harder than me, his voice shaking apart.

“You walked away from being the Pruitt family's princess for this. What could you possibly see in me?”

I smiled. “Your heart. That's all I ever wanted.”

He buried his face in my neck and swore. ：“I will never betray you. Not in this lifetime.”

In the beginning.

Every night he'd dry my hair for me.

On the bad nights, when cramps curled me up and wouldn't let me sleep, he'd pull me close and rub my belly until morning.

Whenever he was home, I never washed a single dish, never cooked a single meal.

When did it start to change?

Some questions don't have answers worth chasing.

Some things, once they spoil, are better thrown away.

I called a cleaning crew and had every last thing of his packed up and tossed.

Then I changed the locks. No one was getting in but me.

Once everything was settled, I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight for the airport.

On the way, every billboard and mall screen was running his wedding announcement with April.

The way he looked at her, so tender it practically spilled off the screen.

I gave a quiet, self-mocking laugh.

I'd thought his growing coldness was just the iron and composure the business world had forged in him.

The moon had been high all along—it simply never shone on me.

At least nature holds everyone, even the ones no one else will.

I went to East Africa and watched the wildebeest migration. To Hokkaido, where the red leaves drifted down. To New Zealand, where fields of lupins stretched across every hillside.

The last stop was Norway.

The aurora looked alive, drifting through the night sky like spirits.

In the perfect silence, the only sound I could hear was the hammering of my own heart.

So watching the Northern Lights alone could be romantic too.

I remembered the day his company went public. He'd bought a pair of diamond rings, the best he could afford at the time.

When he dropped to one knee and looked up at me, his eyes held an entire galaxy.

“I'll be richer soon. I'll trade these in for something bigger.”

“Maybe I won't be so busy then. I'll take you to Norway to see the Northern Lights you're always talking about. We'll have a belated destination wedding.”

“Our tenth anniversary. Deal?”

Now my shadow stretched across the snow, so alone it seemed to mock every word he'd ever said.

I took a photo and posted it to my feed.

【Be your own light. Stop chasing someone else's.】

I scrolled down. Winston, who had never once posted about me, had been posting constantly.

He wouldn't travel with me, but he'd flown April all over the world.

Under the Eiffel Tower. In the golden dusk of Prague's Old Town Square. On the canals of Venice……

Sweet couple photos from every stop.

The Van Cleef & Arpels limited-edition necklace at her throat glinted so bright it hurt to look at.

He'd bid nine million for that piece last month. Heritage Collection.

When the press asked about it, he said it was a gift for the woman he loved.

I'd believed he would clasp it around my neck himself on our tenth anniversary.

I was the only fool in the room.

The trip was almost over.

On my way back, I stopped to inspect one of the Pruitt family's hotels.

If I was going home, I should start getting familiar with the family business.

At check-in, the staff bowed with quiet deference.

“How long will you be staying, Miss Pruitt? Anything you need, just say the word.”

I didn't want to draw attention, so I told them to treat me like any other guest.

Even on an inspection trip, I wanted some peace and quiet.

I couldn't even have that.

Walking through the garden, I saw Winston and April.

A team of photographers surrounded them. They were taking wedding portraits.

He was carefully adjusting her veil, every movement carrying a tenderness I hadn't seen from him in years.

So it wasn't just a trip.

The belated destination wedding he'd promised me, he'd given to someone else.

When he noticed me, Winston's brow creased on instinct.

“I said I'd take you next time. What are you doing here—following me?”

“We're divorced. Stay in your lane.”

Before I could speak, April tugged his sleeve, her voice soft and sweet. “Baby, don't be so harsh.”

“I can't decide on my next dress anyway. Let Lottie help me pick?”

His expression eased. He nodded. “Fine. Her eye's not bad.”

When they handed me the tablet with the design sketches, my hand shook so badly I nearly dropped it.

Both dresses were ones I had designed when I was young, back when we'd barely been together.

I was still the starry-eyed Pruitt princess, head full of daydreams.

Dreaming about the wedding. Dreaming about the dress. Dreaming about the life we'd build together.

When my family found out about the relationship, my parents, who cared deeply about pedigree, refused outright.

They never imagined their obedient daughter would run away from home for a penniless orphan.

But they didn't understand.

He wrote me an entire notebook of love poems.

He pinned the classmate who said filthy things about me to the ground and beat him bloody.

He saved three months' wages to buy a stuffed animal I'd mentioned once in passing.

He'd thrown himself at a pack of street thugs bare-handed when they cornered me—walked away soaked in his own blood.

The doctor said another inch to the left on that chest wound and nothing could have saved him.

That was how hard a boy could love, and it burned through every wall I had.

My parents washed their hands of me, told the world they no longer had a daughter.

After that we were too busy scraping by—hustling for money, hustling to survive.

Then the business found its footing.

He got busy cheating. I got busy catching him.

Round after round, and the wedding we'd promised each other never materialized.

The two gown designs I'd sketched were shoved in a drawer, a promise that never came due.

Now they'd become another woman's bridal dress.

I looked him in the eye.

“Winston, I designed that dress.”

He went still for a beat, then cocked an eyebrow. “Name your price.”

My nails dug into my palms. My voice came out raw. “You can't just swap one for the other.”

“What's so special about them?” His hands stayed in his pockets, his tone already bored. “If April didn't like the design, they'd be scrap paper.”

I actually laughed.

I had no idea his memory was this short.

Every promise, every wish, every shred of love—gone.

All those years of money and nightlife and excess had worked like a pickpocket, lifting away the Winston who once had eyes for nothing but me.

“Don't fight over me—……”

April clamped a hand over her mouth, face going white, and gagged.

His expression changed instantly. He unscrewed the cap of a thermos with practiced ease and brought it to her lips.

“Tired?” He rubbed her belly gently. “We're done for today. You and Leo both need rest.”

He lifted her carefully into his arms and left without a single glance back at me.

I stood frozen, cold to the bone.

Leo.

That was the name of our first child.

After the miscarriage, the guilt wouldn't let me go. I lay awake night after night, turning it over and over until I could barely hold myself together.

Winston knelt before the Buddha for seven straight days and copied the Rebirth Mantra a hundred times just to earn that name.

“May he come and go without sorrow, and dwell always in joy.”

The perpetual memorial lamp inscribed with our child's name still burned at Mercy Haven Temple.

And he'd handed that name to another woman like it weighed nothing at all.

What an absurd life this was.

One of the staff must have read my face. She stepped closer, voice low. ：“Miss Pruitt, shall we bar them from the property?”

I took a long breath.

“No need.”

Let them savor whatever warmth they have left. Dawn was coming.

The trip was over.

I came home. The new locks were untouched.

Winston was too busy taking his new woman around the world to bother with the “marital home.”

I laughed at that, and kept laughing until my throat went tight.

I remembered how he'd barged into the Pruitt house and dropped to his knees in front of my parents.

“Sir, ma'am—please, give Lottie to me.”

“Unless I'm dead, I will never betray her.”

My parents didn't believe him. I did.

I turned my back on everything and gave all I had to build a life with him.

Every single thing in this house, we'd chosen together.

The floor mat from a secondhand market. The TV stand he'd built by hand. The sofa throw I'd crocheted stitch by stitch.

Even after we had money, we never moved.

I'd been so certain that when he said forever, he meant forever. He didn't.

His heart had been worn down by the years, corroded from the inside. And when I finally cracked it open, there was nothing left—rotten all the way through.

The exhaustion hit me like a wall.

I called a realtor that same hour and told them to sell the house. I packed the 100 urns and shipped them out, then cleared everything else down to bare walls.

When it was done, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out.

I looked back one last time, sure I would ache.