After that night, I knew there was nothing left for me here. Nothing but emptiness and cold streets. No family, no ties, only this city that had turned its back on me. I had to sell everything before leaving.

My parents’ apartment. The wedding house Damien had bought for us. Both names on the deeds meant I couldn’t just walk away. I had to see him one last time.

I sent him a message. Silence. I waited, but time wasn’t on my side. I didn’t want to return to New York later just to settle this. So I opened his profile, hoping to find some clue where he was—but the moment I clicked, my heart dropped. I had been blocked.

The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. I thought about calling his mother, but she told me Damien hadn’t come home since that night.

Swallowing my pride, I messaged Ariana. “I need to speak to Damien. Tell him, please, and let me know.”

Her reply came instantly. An address.

It was the villa—our holiday home, the place we’d shared in secret, where no one else was ever allowed. Where I had kissed him for the first time. Where he’d whispered that this sanctuary would always be ours, untouchable.

And now she had been there too.

I told myself not to think, not to feel, and drove. The road wound through silent trees, but when I arrived, the silence was gone. Laughter echoed everywhere. Strangers filled the house that had once been ours alone.

I walked along the garden path, chest tight with dread. Then I saw them.

Ariana, half-kneeling, her lips brushing his cheek. “Thank you for letting me bring my friends here,” she said, honeyed and sweet.

He moved slightly to pull away, but then his eyes lifted—and they landed on me.

The trace of her kiss still lingered on his face. And all I could think of was that night, our first kiss right here in this villa. My awkward, clumsy little thank-you kiss. He’d smiled then, so warmly, and after that, he always asked for kisses whenever I made him happy. Every corner, every wall here had witnessed our love.

And now… they would see it end.

I waited until she finally stepped back, then took a careful step forward. My hands shook slightly as I held out the papers.

“You bought our wedding house,” I said quietly. “Since we’re done, it should go back to you. Take a look. If you don’t want it, I’ll buy it back at market price.”

Damien’s gaze sharpened. Cold. His knuckles cracked as he gripped the documents as though they were filthy. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking.

“Anything else?”

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “I still have some things inside. I’d like to collect them this time.”

His expression darkened, as though I’d said something unforgivable.

Ariana’s hand flew to her lips in a fake gasp. “Oh, I thought all that stuff in there was junk. I moved everything to the storage room. Want me to take you?”

I nodded politely. “Thank you.”

She smiled, sweet and calculating, brushing her hand against Damien’s shoulder as if claiming him. She started to move, but he caught her wrist instantly.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

Her cheeks colored. She pouted. “Why are you so clingy?”

I lowered my eyes and walked ahead, pretending I hadn’t noticed anything.

The storage room was tiny—the smallest in the house. Cramped. Stale. Barely enough room for two.

Damien leaned against the doorway, eyes cold as ice, watching silently while I rifled through my belongings. The weight of his silence pressed on me.

Ariana crouched beside me, pretending to help, her perfume thick and suffocating in the confined space. Her voice was soft but cutting.

“You’ve found so many reasons to see him again. You really haven’t let go, have you? Fine, I’ll help.”

Before I could even react, she brushed against a shelf, and a box teetered, then toppled.

I barely had time to react.

Damien’s pupils narrowed. He lunged—but not toward me. He grabbed Ariana, pulling her up into his arms with a ferocity that left her stunned.

The box missed her by inches, but slammed into my shoulder. The impact sent me tumbling to the floor, pain flashing bright and blinding.

I crumpled there.

Damien frowned, just frowned. Then, without a glance my way, he cradled her as if she were glass, her arm scratched, and rushed her outside. I heard him call for a car, voice sharp with concern—but none of it was for me.

Pain spread through my body, and I could barely breathe. My vision blurred. Yet in the creeping darkness, a thought brought me a strange calm:

It’s good I don’t love him anymore.

If I don’t love him, I won’t cry when he chooses her over me.

If I don’t love him, I can finally stop waiting for someone who will never save me.

Ariana’s friends swarmed when they saw her tiny scratch. Damien hustled her to the car, to the hospital. No one glanced back.

I don’t know how long I lay there. Dawn found me. The maid discovered my crumpled form in the storage room, eyes wide in shock. She called for an ambulance immediately. She even called Damien.

“Mr. Damien,” I heard her say faintly through the phone. “Miss Celeste was badly hurt. She collapsed in the storage room. The ambulance is on its way. Do you want to see her?”

A pause. Then his voice—flat, indifferent, final.

“Why should I go? The ambulance is coming. It doesn’t concern me anymore.”

The maid tried again. He snapped, voice sharp. “Make sure she and her things are cleared out properly. I don’t want her cluttering my home.”

The line went dead.

I lay there, lips pale, body strangely still. Somehow, my heart felt unnervingly calm. This was it—finally fading completely from his world.

Later, the doctors told me the injuries weren’t fatal. Still, the maid didn’t know who else to call, and in the end, she reached out to Damien’s mother.

The moment she heard, she rushed over, panic written all over her face. That night, she stayed by my side, tending to me with care the way her son never would.

I woke to raised voices outside my door, carried clearly down the silent corridor.

“You idiot!” his mother’s voice rang sharp with anger. “I don’t care where you are! If you want any chance of fixing things with Celeste, get here immediately. If you let this slide, she’ll never forgive you!”

For a heartbeat, I held my breath, waiting. Hoping.

Then his voice slithered through, low and cruel. “Why should it matter if she forgives me? The engagement is done. Her things are gone. Even if she dies, I won’t show up at her funeral.”

Click. The phone line went dead. Silence swallowed the corridor.

The door opened, and his mother stepped in, cheeks flushed, hands trembling slightly. Embarrassed, her gaze landed on me. “Celeste… Damien… you know how he is when he’s angry. He says things he doesn’t mean. Don’t let it hurt you.”

I shook my head. Words felt useless. He didn’t need protecting from me. He was right—we were done. He’d severed all ties; I had to do the same.

She sighed softly, a sound of quiet resignation. She moved closer, perched on the edge of my bed, and unfolded a piece of paper.

“Celeste,” she said gently, handing it to me, “these are dowries I’ve prepared for you. You’re going far, starting fresh on your own. You’ll need property, finances, security. These will give you strength.”

My chest constricted. I shook my head quickly. “Mrs. Thompson… I can’t take this.”

Her hand covered mine. “If your mother hadn’t brought me out of that little village years ago, I wouldn’t even be here. I owe her… and I owe you. Damien wronged you. As his mother, I need to make this right.”

Her eyes softened. “Once you’re in Europe, I’ll make sure someone helps you with the transfers.”

The door burst open suddenly.

A familiar voice cut through sharply. “Who’s going to Europe?”

I froze. I dropped my lashes, kept my mouth shut. I didn’t look at him, pretending he wasn’t even there.

His mother glanced between us and let out a small sigh. “It’s Celeste… she—”

He cut her off, eyes sliding to mine. “You’re going to Europe? Right. You mentioned before that you wanted to visit your aunt. But… your injuries this time are serious. It’s not safe yet. How about we wait a little? I can stay with you for now, get things organized, then go with you.”

A bitter laugh threatened to escape me. Yes, I’d once told him I wanted to go. He’d promised to come with me. And yet… he never had.

Why? Because Ariana had whispered to him her envy. She said I always had someone by my side, while she, poor little Ariana, had never left her village. She claimed she’d never seen the world. So he canceled his plans behind my back and took her abroad instead. Together. Leaving me alone.

I remembered that day so clearly. I waited until the last flight was gone, calling endlessly, heart aching with worry. Then dawn came, along with the photos—him and Ariana at another airport. Smiling. Together.

And now, after everything, he stood here acting as if he still planned to go with me. Nothing left to hope for.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him the truth. That I wasn’t going to visit family. That I was marrying. That I wasn’t leaving for a short while—I was leaving New York for good. I’d never return unless I had no choice.

Before I could speak, he sneered. “You don’t need me to go? Then who do you want? That pretty boy who gave you a gift the other day? Don’t tell me you’re going alone. You couldn’t even read a boarding pass. You’d get lost and end up crying, begging me to rescue you.”

I exhaled, heavy and exhausted. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I didn’t need him. I didn’t want him. He had no place near my wedding.

But I never got the chance. His phone lit up. He glanced at it, face softening in an instant. Turning away, he muttered, “Alright. Seems like you’ve got plenty of strength. That makes me feel better. Maddie hates being alone, so I’ll go keep her company. Europe? I’ll come with you once you’re healed.”

He even smiled at his mother. “Thanks for taking care of your daughter-in-law, Mom.”

Her gaze cut him cold. “Get out.”

“Goodbye, Damien,” I said.

For a moment, he froze. His shoulders tensed, and he turned back toward me as if I were offering forgiveness. As if I were giving him hope. His hand brushed against my hair.

“Goodbye, Celeste. I’ll bring you flowers and cake tomorrow,” he murmured.

I stared at him, steady and unflinching, but he didn’t even bother to meet my gaze. He simply walked away, lighter on his feet, retreating straight to Ariana.

His mother watched him leave, then turned to me. The sigh she released spoke volumes, more than words ever could.

---

Damien never appeared in my hospital room, despite his promise. Instead, he sent some errand boy with a cake and a sunflower—which I hated because of my allergy.

I didn’t even look at them. I handed the items directly to the servant his mother had assigned to care for me and returned to packing my things.

Half an hour earlier, I had seen Ariana’s post online. She was flaunting herself again, claiming that Xander had discovered she was hospitalized and tried to bother her. Luckily, Damien had swooped in, playing hero.

She whined playfully about only having a tiny scratch and how Damien had exaggerated things, forcing her to stay in the hospital for a week. Then she giggled about how it gave Xander more chances to harass her. In the end, of course, she forgave him—because he had bought her favorite cake, apologized, and “saved” her.

Beneath her post was a photo of Damien on one knee, smiling as he opened a cake box for her.

I pressed “like.” Then I blocked them both.

The servant returned just as I zipped my bag. “Miss Celeste, everything is ready. The car is waiting downstairs. We can leave now.”

I nodded and followed silently.

When the elevator stopped on the eighth floor, the doors slid open. There, in front of me, I saw Ariana leaning in, brushing a kiss across Damien’s cheek. He stood by her hospital room door, a faint smile on his face.

I just watched. Felt nothing. No anger, no sorrow. Nothing at all.

---

A week later, I was scheduled to fly to Europe for my marriage. I had refused so many times, but Damien’s mother wouldn’t listen. She insisted on a farewell party, even preparing a dress and jewelry for me. I had no choice but to stay a bit longer, planning to head to the airport immediately after.

That night, everyone from my childhood showed up. Everyone—except Damien.

During the party, someone leaned in, whispering with a sly smirk, “I thought you two were really done. You said the engagement was over, and he’s been showing that servant woman all over town. Yet… here you are, still connected. Must be fate, huh?”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

They blinked at me and then looked away, saying nothing further.

I stopped trying to make sense of it. I smiled instead, turning to the elders who had always cared for me and thanked them. I hugged my friends one by one, inviting them to my wedding in Europe if they could come.

“You’re marrying here? Will Damien even let that happen?” one asked.

I shook my head, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Not with him.”

They exchanged shocked glances, unable to ask more. To them, my life had always been tied to Damien. Everyone knew he would be my husband since childhood. He had made sure no one else came near me. If I wasn’t marrying him… who else could I possibly marry? I laughed bitterly.

The room grew awkward, but I didn’t care. I checked the time and excused myself, heading to say goodbye to his mother.

As I stepped out, I saw one of my friends on the phone. “Where are you? Why didn’t you come tonight? You know—Celeste—”

Damien’s voice cut in, calm but urgent. “She’s upset I didn’t show, right? Don’t tell her, but I’m on my way. I planned a surprise. Help me—bring her to the rooftop garden. I’ve got the ring. Don’t let her leave.” Then the line went dead.

My friend stared at the phone as if it had betrayed him. Who was telling the truth? Me, leaving to marry another? Or Damien, rushing to propose?

I didn’t wait for his answer. I had already changed and directed the servants to load my luggage. He spotted me and ran over.

“Where are you going? Europe? Why so fast? Can’t you wait?”

I paused. He had grown up with me; maybe it was hard for him to accept. I forced a smile. “If I wait, I’ll miss my flight. Don’t worry—we’ll see each other again. Come to my wedding, okay?”

He grew frantic. “Are you really marrying someone else? Does Damien know? Shouldn’t you at least say goodbye to him?”

My chest tightened at the mention of his name. I shook my head softly. “No.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but I checked the time and cut him off gently. “I really have to go now.”

I slid into the car and shut the door. Slowly, the vehicle rolled out of the Thompson estate.

At that exact moment, another car passed ours. Through the glass, I caught a glimpse of Damien—holding a small ring box, eyes shining with anticipation.

I didn’t glance again.

He was probably imagining my surprise, picturing the perfect moment—our parents, childhood friends, everyone who mattered, and me, the girl he still thought he owned.

But I was already gone.