Before he could process the situation, Gabriella in his arms let out a soft, pained moan. Immediately, Sebastian’s attention snapped to her, his concern deepening. Without a second thought, he bent down and lifted her into his arms, cradling her carefully as he walked swiftly toward the door, his focus solely on Gabriella.

He didn’t spare a glance at Abigail, the woman he once knew. The sight of them leaving together, so effortlessly and intimately, was enough to send a deep, aching pain through Abigail’s chest. It felt as though her heart had been dropped from an immense height, only to shatter upon impact, pieces scattered beyond repair.

She stood there, frozen for a moment, watching them disappear. The emptiness left in their wake threatened to consume her. With trembling hands, she struggled to rise, the pain in her body flaring up, sending sharp waves of agony through her limbs. The more she moved, the more intense the pain became, until it felt like it was spreading through every inch of her.

Around her, the hum of conversation grew louder, more insistent.

"Who is she?"

"I heard she’s the Montgomery Family’s nanny."

"She’s so young..."

The words, casual and dismissive, were like daggers, each one twisting deeper into her heart. After a long moment, she managed to push past the sharp pain and stagger to her feet. She walked unsteadily toward the exit, her steps faltering. Once outside, she hailed a taxi to the hospital.

When she arrived at the hospital, she found Sebastian and the others already there. His mother, a group of bodyguards, and the head physician were all in tow, following Sebastian, who was still holding Gabriella, into a lavish ward. The scene was overwhelming—a stark contrast to the shattered state she was in.

A bitter smile curled on Abigail’s lips as she turned and walked to the nurse's station.

The nurse gasped upon seeing her and quickly escorted her to the medical room, where a female doctor was called in to treat her wounds. The doctor’s hands were steady and efficient, cleaning and dressing the numerous cuts. The wounds themselves weren’t deep, but there were many, scattered across her arms and legs like a cruel reminder of the evening’s events.

As the doctor worked, she grew a little more talkative, perhaps to ease the tension of the quiet room. "The girl next door is so lucky," she mused, almost absentmindedly. "She looks like a rich lady, and her boyfriend loves her so much. She’s so upset over just a little injury..."

Abigail offered a faint hum in response, the hollow sound escaping her lips. But inside, it felt as though something vital had been ripped out of her, leaving only an unbearable emptiness.

That’s her husband, and yet, he’s next door, anxious over another woman.

The doctor finished bandaging her wounds and was about to offer aftercare instructions when he noticed her expression. He froze, then nervously asked, "Did I hurt you? I’m sorry."

Abigail blinked, confused, and quickly shook her head. "No, no."

But the doctor’s confusion only deepened as he observed her. "Then... why do you look like you're about to cry?"

Abigail was stunned. Was that how she looked? Despite the numbness in her heart, it had somehow made its way to her face. She could only laugh bitterly at herself.

After thanking the doctor, she walked out of the clinic, the silence of the hospital on New Year’s Eve feeling oddly suffocating. As she moved down the corridor, she could hear snippets of conversation from the next room—Sebastian’s voice, soft and concerned.

"Gabriella, does it still hurt? Don’t be stubborn. If it hurts, hold my hand."

"Our Gabriella is so unlucky. Why did she have to stand next to that jinx and get hurt? My poor child."

The words stung like fresh wounds, and Abigail turned her back on them, walking out of the hospital alone. She had never truly been a part of their family. The realization, though sharp, wasn’t new. What had once been an indifference she could tolerate, now felt like a heavy weight in her chest.

When she returned to the villa, everything seemed unchanged, yet it felt emptier, colder than before.

She went to the study, where she saw the commemorative album perched on a high shelf. It was the photo album Sebastian had created after they got together. He had said at the time, “We need to record our beauty so we can look back on it when we’re old.”

Each meaningful photo—whether a picture of them together or one of his solo shots—had been carefully pasted inside, along with his loving messages. For three years, it had been filled with memories, each page a testament to their love. But it stopped abruptly half a month ago.

Abigail flipped through the pages slowly, each word he had written, each image, now weighed heavily on her heart. The love they had shared seemed to have faded, replaced by this cold reality. Her mind wandered back to what Gabriella had said to her at the banquet.

In truth, Gabriella’s words were not entirely unfounded. Abigail found herself hesitating, questioning whether her persistence still held any meaning.

Is he really still the same person?

She had grown accustomed to Sebastian’s late nights, a change that both shocked and numbed her. Was it really that easy to develop a habit? And just as easily, could she forget it all?

The day Gabriella brought Sebastian back, Abigail was in the flower house, watering the plants. This space hadn’t been there before—Sebastian had built it for her after noticing how much she loved flowers.

In her hands, she cradled a flowerpot containing the ashes of her aborted child. When the child had first come into her life, she and Sebastian had been full of hope. They had even chosen names—Madeline if it was a girl, Andrew if it was a boy.

But things hadn’t turned out as they hoped. After the loss, Abigail had taken the ashes and buried them in the soil, planting flowers on top, hoping that her child could somehow be reborn in another form.

Lost in thought, she was jolted by the sound of a door closing. Thinking it was Sebastian returning, she put the flowerpot down and went to the living room, only to find it empty. She heard movement upstairs and made her way toward it.

As she approached the half-open door to the master bedroom, she froze. Through the crack, she saw Sebastian lying on the bed, and Gabriella bent over him, kissing him passionately.

Just as Abigail thought Gabriella had initiated the kiss, she saw Sebastian’s hand pull the back of Gabriella’s head, pressing her deeper.

Abigail’s face drained of color in an instant. The shock hit her like a physical blow, and her head buzzed with the force of it. Before they could go any further, her legs gave way, and she stumbled out of the villa, her steps unsteady and frantic.

She ran without thinking, her body moving on pure instinct, until her legs could carry her no longer. She bent over, supporting herself with her hands on her knees, a single tear slipping down her cheek without warning.

She couldn’t hold on anymore.

Falling to the ground, she clutched her chest, trying to ease the unbearable ache that felt like her heart was being torn apart. But nothing worked—the pain only deepened, and the tears flowed uncontrollably, as if they were a floodgate opened wide.

In less than a month, she had experienced pain she hadn’t felt in the past three years. She was done. She no longer had any expectations.

We’re no longer on the same path. It’s better to end it now.

Wiping her tears away, she shakily pulled out her phone, dialing a number with trembling hands. "Director, I’ve made up my mind. I want to participate in that project."

Her decision was met with enthusiasm on the other end, and Abigail felt a strange sense of relief.

She didn’t return to the villa that night. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing or hearing anything that would shatter her further.

The next morning, she was awakened by Sebastian’s call. Without even glancing at the screen, she answered, only recognizing his voice when he spoke sharply.

"Are you out all night? If you don’t want to stay at home, then divorce me."

Abigail’s voice was cold and even. "I’ll be back soon."

His words hung in the air, but it was her icy tone that left him speechless. He wanted to say something, but she had already hung up. His frustration grew, though he couldn’t pinpoint where it stemmed from.

After hanging up, Abigail checked out of the hotel and made her way back to the villa.

When she returned, she found Sebastian and Gabriella having breakfast together. Without a word, she headed upstairs, her silence heavy in the air.

As she reached the staircase, Sebastian called out, "Abigail, where are you going? Don’t run off. Wash the dishes."

Abigail lowered her head and let out a bitter laugh at herself. He truly saw her as nothing more than a nanny.

She was done arguing with him, so she simply nodded and headed to the kitchen to clean up the dishes.

Afterward, she made her way to the flower room to put away the pot of flowers, intending to take it later. But as soon as she reached the door, her gaze fell on Gabriella, who was holding the pot of ashes.

A sharp, ringing sensation filled her head, and her voice shot out before she could stop it: "Put it down!"

The command startled Gabriella, making her flinch. Immediately, Sebastian frowned, his voice sharp with irritation. "It's just a flowerpot. You scared Gabriella."

Abigail ignored his words. She didn’t care what he said. Her only focus was getting the pot back.

She walked toward Gabriella, reaching out to grab it, but Gabriella, sensing her urgency, pretended to accidentally let go of the pot.

The pot hit the ground with a sickening thud, shattering into pieces. Brown soil, black ashes, and white ceramic fragments spilled across the floor.

For a moment, the flower room seemed to fall into silence, the world frozen. Abigail stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Rage began to burn in her chest. She clenched her fist, and without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped Gabriella across the face.

A sharp crack echoed in the greenhouse, and Gabriella staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek, stunned and disbelieving.

Both Gabriella and Sebastian stood motionless, shocked by the sudden violence. Sebastian’s shock quickly morphed into fury. The day's building irritation exploded, and his face darkened with anger. He stormed forward, shoving Abigail hard.

"What’s wrong with you? It’s just a flowerpot!" His hands pushed her so forcefully that she stumbled back two steps.

Her vision blurred as she fought to steady herself. Her red eyes met Sebastian’s, now filled with rage. She watched as he turned away, pulling Gabriella to him, walking away with the broken pot under his feet.

Abigail stood there, her heart aching as she looked at the soil scattered across the floor, now marred with four distinct footprints. A tear slid down her face, slipping past her burning gaze.

She knelt to the ground, trembling as she gathered the mess into her hands, trying to piece it together. She carefully placed it into a new flowerpot, her hands shaking with the effort to restore what had been lost.

Once the room was clean, she took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and dialed a number. "Hello, I need to draft a divorce agreement."

Sebastian was no longer the man she once knew. She had been the one trapped in the illusion of the past, holding on to memories that no longer mattered. She should have left long ago, but only now, after being scarred, was she ready to let go.

The divorce agreement arrived shortly after, and as she thought about when to give it to him, Sebastian returned.

He entered the room, sitting on the sofa with a stern expression, as if interrogating her. "Go apologize to Gabriella. You hit her too hard the other day, and her face is swollen."

Abigail’s frustration flared. He was being utterly unreasonable. A sharp, sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she replied coolly, "She touched my things first and then deliberately dropped them."

"Deliberately?" Sebastian’s voice rose with anger. "Gabriella dropped it by accident. Even if it was intentional, it’s just a flowerpot. Does it really matter?"

His words stung, and it felt as if she were the one in the wrong. She stared at him, a deep sadness welling up inside her. She couldn’t understand how the man she once knew had become so foreign.

People’s hearts are so fickle.

She didn’t plan to tell him the pot had contained ashes. It was better if he never knew—some truths were too painful to remember, and revealing them would only bring more suffering.

Seeing her silence, Sebastian assumed she realized her mistake. He crossed his arms, his voice more condescending now. "If you apologize, this will all be over. Otherwise, I’ll end the contract of repaying gratitude."

The words felt like a hollow threat, and Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. She turned toward the dining room, her laugh confusing him.

As she entered the dining room, Sebastian was about to call her when he saw her return, holding something in her hand.