Just as Rosalie was about to decline politely, Fiona mentioned her late parents. "Your mother passed away so early, and I haven't been around for you these past years. As your aunt, I'd really like to get closer to you."

Hearing that, Rosalie agreed. Regardless of whom Luke loved, her aunt was still her aunt, and she wanted to honor that family bond.

In her childhood, Fiona had been nothing but kind to her, and after losing her parents, Rosalie cherished the few family members she still had.

When she arrived at the boutique, she saw Fiona sitting gracefully, flipping through a magazine with an air of quiet elegance. Her poised, gentle demeanor made it easy to see why Luke might be drawn to someone like her. If he was happy, that's all that really mattered.

Fiona greeted Rosalie warmly, and Rosalie, a bit uneasy, responded, "Auntie."

With a soft smile, Fiona patted her head and said, "You really do look so much like your mom. She'd be so proud of you."

A pang of sadness hit Rosalie at the mention of her mother, and Fiona noticed.

Quickly, Fiona shifted the subject. "Oh, let's not dwell on the past. I picked out a dress for you too. Try it on and see if it fits."

She handed the dress to Rosalie, who went to the fitting room. Then, Fiona realized it was quite loose and far more revealing than she was comfortable with. She brushed it off, assuming her aunt didn't know her exact size.

Just as she left the fitting room, a familiar voice sounded outside. "Are you ready yet?"

It was Luke. Rosalie froze, her mind racing.

What was he doing here?

Still, instinctively, she responded to him like she always did. "Yes, I'm ready."

The door opened unexpectedly, and before she could react, she stumbled forward, landing directly in his arms.

Rosalie looked up, watching his expression shift from surprise to something darker. Luke's brows knitted together as he took in her revealing outfit, his voice laced with disapproval.

"What are you doing here?"

Flustered, Rosalie took a step back, but in her haste, she accidentally stepped on the hem of the dress, causing it to slip further down her body, revealing even more skin.

Before she could move, Luke's jacket was suddenly draped over her, shielding her from view.

Then came his cold voice. "Rosalie, have you sunk this low? Are you willing to do anything to get my attention?"

Rosalie bit her lip, desperate to explain. "I didn't…"

But when she looked up, she only saw the same disdainful look he'd given her. The man who once treated her like she was precious now looked at her as if she were a stranger.

That look pierced through her, leaving her heart aching and hollow.

Luke didn't give her a chance to speak. "If you didn't mean anything by it, why would you be parading around in Fiona's dress like this right before me?"

Rosalie looked down at the dress, feeling disoriented and humiliated, his words cutting through her fog.

"What exactly will it take for you to understand your place?" he demanded.

Rosalie opened her mouth, but the words were lodged in her throat.

Even if she explained, would he even believe her?

"Oh, Luke! You're here!" Fiona approached just then, taking in the scene with a look of surprise. Without missing a beat, she said, "This is my fault. Rosalie's dress is still with me."

When Fiona approached, Luke immediately softened, stepping forward to adjust a stray strand of her hair, ignoring Rosalie entirely.

"What's there to explain?" he asked, his tone light but dismissive. "Even if you are her aunt, you shouldn't indulge her like this."

Fiona pouted playfully. "Oh, come on, Luke. How can you say that?"

Luke cast a fleeting glance at Rosalie. "If you like the dress, Rosalie, it's yours now," he said indifferently. Then, turning back to Fiona, he added, "I'll have a new one custom-made for you. Since this one's been ruined, let's forget about it."

Rosalie felt each word like a dagger, sharp and unrelenting, piercing whatever was left of her heart.

But she held herself together this time, no longer the girl who would cause a scene. Quickly wiping away her tears, she turned and left before Luke could deliver any more cutting remarks.

As she glanced down at the ill-fitting dress she was wearing, a bitter thought crossed her mind:

'Things that don't fit will always feel awkward, no matter how hard you try to keep them. Rosalie.'

She couldn't understand why her aunt would agree to this. Fiona was Luke's fiancée now, the same aunt who used to dote on her as a child. What had changed?

She changed back into her clothes, and as she exited the mall, she saw Luke and Fiona heading toward her favorite cake shop. The irony struck her.

Luke had bought that shop for her.

Its name?

La Rosa.

That shop was or had once been, hers—something Luke had gifted to her with pride. She remembered when she first came to Florida.

Rosalie felt out of place, barely eating at school, as if she didn't belong.

Luke even teased her, saying she looked like a "little bean sprout."

The only food she enjoyed then was the cake from that little shop. Luke had once caught her sneaking away to buy a box and laughed, seeing frosting smudged on her lips.

He'd patted her head and asked, "Why do you like this shop so much?"

She answered, "Because it tastes like home."

That one answer had led Luke to buy the shop outright. "If you like it, I'll even pluck the stars from the sky for you," he had said.

Back then, he'd told her everything in that shop was hers and wanted it to be her place.

But now, she watched as he strolled through that precious memory with another woman as if she'd never mattered.

The cold, damp wind hit her, and Rosalie pulled her coat tighter around herself, tearing her eyes away from the scene.

She turned and walked in the opposite direction, leaving them behind in that warm glow of shared memories that no longer included her.

The relevant offices were still open, so she went there to start her paperwork to return to her home country.

"Miss Mitchell," the clerk said, "your application will need a ten-day review. You'll receive an email once it's finalized."

After all these years, it would only take ten more days was all it would take to end it.

She resolved quietly to herself, 'Luke, after this, I won't ever get entangled in your life again.'

With numb fingers and a distant gaze, she wandered the foreign streets she'd called home for ten years. Once, Luke had made this place feel warm and safe—a kind of home.

But now, it was just a distant, unwelcoming city filled with memories she wanted to leave behind.

As snow began to fall, her phone buzzed, jolting her back to reality. She answered, and Luke's voice came through, sharp with irritation.

"Where did you go? Fiona didn't invite you out so that you could throw a tantrum. Come back. Now."

Snowflakes drifted down, landing on Rosalie's frozen hands, but she barely felt the cold.

She tucked her documents away, returned to the mall, and searched everywhere. But Luke and Fiona were nowhere to be found.

Rosalie finally noticed a new message from her aunt:

'Luke and I went to the perfume shop next door in the mall. He forgot to tell you. Come over, Rosalie, so that I can give you a gift.'

She listened to the message, her emotions churning. When she reached the perfume shop, the sight before her was like a punch to the gut.

Fiona held out her wrist for Luke to smell, and their warm smiles and easy gestures conveyed an intimacy she could only observe from the outside. She had always been the outsider.

Fiona noticed and waved her over, but Rosalie lingered at the store's entrance, glancing toward Luke. She didn't even know what she was clinging to.

Taking a steadying breath, she summoned the strength to ask, in a calm but strained voice, "Should I come in?"

Luke's expression darkened as he looked at her, his irritation flashing across his face. "What are you being so sensitive about? It's a perfume store; it won't kill you to step inside."

Fiona quickly stepped in, her tone gentle. "Luke, don't talk to Rosalie like that." Luke's demeanor softened immediately as he affectionately stroked her hair, then turned back to Rosalie with a dismissive look.

"Come in, Rosalie. Or would you rather have Fiona stand here with the gift waiting for you?"

Rosalie felt her resolve waver but took a step inside. Her sensitivity to strong scents had first shown up years ago. Back then, Luke had immediately removed all scented products from the house, even banning anyone from wearing perfume.

When she'd struggled with it at school, he had arranged for her to study at home, and on the rare occasions she attended classes in person, he ensured every precaution was taken.

Their home became a sanctuary of fresh flowers and subtle, natural scents where she felt safe. Even living in a country where perfume was everywhere, Luke protected her.

But now, just standing at the shop's entrance made her dizzy, yet he continued urging her to step further inside.

Fighting the nausea, Rosalie approached Fiona, who immediately produced a perfume bottle from her bag.

"This one is a limited edition called 'Moonlit Rose.' As soon as I heard the name, I thought it would suit you perfectly. Come, let Auntie spray a little on you to try it."

Rosalie pulled her hand back, feeling her stomach twist. "Thank you, Auntie, but it's not necessary. I'm allergic to perfume."

Fiona's face fell, her eyes instantly welling with tears as she looked genuinely remorseful. "I'm so sorry, Rosalie. It's my fault. I don't even know what you like."

But before Rosalie could respond, Luke roughly pulled her closer, pushing the gift into her hands.

He looked at Fiona reassuringly. "It's fine. It's not that serious."

Turning to Rosalie, his tone grew cold. "This is a gift from us. A little spritz won't kill you."

Rosalie met his gaze and forced a bitter smile after a moment of hesitation. She brought the bottle to her wrist and sprayed a small amount.

Immediately, the overpowering scent assaulted her senses, leaving her lightheaded and nauseous, but she steeled herself, fighting the urge to recoil.

Forcing a strained smile, she looked at Fiona and said, "Thank you, Auntie."

Then, with a steady gaze, she turned to Luke, her voice carrying a note of finality. "Thank you, Uncle."