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.

Damien'S POV

I rushed upstairs after changing clothes, heart pounding like I was a teenager again. The rooftop garden was all set, lights glowing soft and romantic, the ring box heavy in my hand. Tonight was it. I had already done my duty by Ariana, repaid her for saving me. That chapter was closed. From now on it was only Celeste.

I sent a quick text to my buddy. Bring her up. Everything’s ready.

No reply.

I frowned, pacing back and forth, glancing up at the night sky. A plane streaked across above Manhattan, a tiny glimmer disappearing into the clouds, and for some reason my chest tightened. An uneasy feeling crawled up my spine. I pulled out my phone and shot Celeste a message.

“Come up to the rooftop, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The notification came back red. Blocked.

I blinked at the screen, not believing it, then checked again. Same result. My stomach sank. Right then my friend finally texted back.

“Damien, sorry bro. Emergency at home. Couldn’t wait. Maybe… propose another day?”

Another day? Was he kidding me?

I clenched my jaw, staring at the glowing candles I had arranged myself. I waited. Five minutes. Ten. Thirty. An hour. My legs grew restless. The ring box felt like it was burning through my palm. Finally, I gave up.

Dang.

“She’s probably downstairs. I’ll find her myself,” I muttered. “It’ll still be a surprise.”

Celeste would never say no to me anyway. She’d been mine since we were kids. That thought calmed me a little as I walked back down.

But the party was already over. The rooms were empty. Only my mother sat in the living room, holding a photo in her hands. Her shoulders were trembling as she whispered something.

I walked closer, confused. “Mom? Why’re you crying? Whose photo is that?”

She looked up. Her eyes were swollen, red, wet with grief I couldn’t understand. “It’s me and Celeste’s mother. I failed her, Damien. I failed both of you. Celeste’s gone.”

“Gone? Don’t say it like that. Where would she go? She’s probably with her aunt, right? Maybe she slipped out before the party ended.”

My mother shook her head slowly, as though every movement cost her. “She left, Damien. To France.”

“France?” I repeated, incredulous. A bitter laugh slipped out. “That’s all? Mom, you nearly gave me a heart attack. France isn’t another world. I can get on a plane tomorrow, meet her there. She promised she’d wait for me. You say it like she’s never coming back. Why’re you making this sound so final?”

Her silence unsettled me more than her words. She lowered her gaze, her thumb brushing across the edge of the photo. “If you’d listened back then, you wouldn’t be surprised now.”

“What do you mean back then?” I snapped, “If you’d told me earlier, I wouldn’t have wasted time setting up candles, buying this ring—” I opened my palm, showing her the box like proof. “I’d have gone with her. I’d have followed her to the ends of the earth.”

Her eyes softened with pity, and it enraged me. “Would you, Damien? Or would you have stayed here again… chasing shadows?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice rose, but beneath it was fear. Something was wrong. Something I didn’t want to admit.

She pressed her lips together, almost like she’d said too much. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, tell me. You’re hiding something. What do you mean again? What aren’t you saying? Mom, look at me!”

Her tears brimmed over, spilling down her cheeks. She set the photo down gently, as if afraid it would shatter. “That box,” she whispered, “the one I told you to give Celeste. Do you even remember it?”

My heart lurched. The snowy night came rushing back—Celeste’s pale face in the hospital bed, her voice steady as she said goodbye. The unopened box sitting in my drawer, ignored because Ariana kept calling.

My throat tightened. “Mom… that box you gave me for Celeste… what was it really?”

She looked up at me then, her eyes glassy but resolute, and gave the answer I’d been too blind to prepare for.

“It was the token I exchanged with her mother when you two were engaged. Inside was the marriage certificate our families prepared... the one meant to be signed after the ceremony.”

For a moment, the world fell out from under me. My ears roared with silence, my pulse crashing like a war drum. The ring slipped from my hand and clattered against the floor.

Celeste hadn’t just left for France.

She had ended us. Completely.

And I hadn’t even seen it coming.

I sat there staring at my own hands like they weren’t mine. The longer I looked, the more I realized what I’d done with them. I thought Celeste returning the keys, the house, all those things—was just her throwing a tantrum, punishing me. I never thought it meant she’d already made up her mind to leave me.

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “I really thought… I really thought she’d never walk away. That no matter how much I messed up, she’d still come back. Every time I pushed, she pushed back, but she stayed. I kept thinking, she loves me too much to really leave. God, I’m an idiot.”

I remembered how I used Ariana, again and again, dangling her in front of Celeste just to spark her jealousy. I wanted her mad, wanted her to fight me, so I’d know she still cared. I thought she’d slam the door, then open it again like always. I thought it was some twisted game only we knew how to play.

I squeezed my fists, my voice cracking. “What did I do? What the hell did I do?”

The memories rushed in. Me accusing her of lying about Xander harassing her. Me calling her pathetic for competing with Ariana. Me brushing it off when she saved Ariana in that accident. Me not even checking when heavy crates nearly crushed her. And worst—my own voice echoing in my head, cold and sharp. We don’t have any relationship anymore. Even if you die, I won’t be at your funeral.

I pressed my palms into my eyes, but the pain in my chest only grew sharper. Breathing hurt. Living hurt.

My phone buzzed nonstop. I picked it up and the screen flooded with messages.

“Damien, what’s happening? Celeste said at the party she’s going to Europe to marry. That’s with you, right?”