In the next breath, Ambrose, who had been silent up until now, stepped forward. Without a word, he captured Scarlett in a lingering kiss, his lips pressing against hers with a passion that had been locked away for years.

Hazel couldn’t hold back anymore. Tremors wracked her body as tears streamed down her cheeks.

They had loved each other for ten years, yet every time Hazel had tried to kiss Ambrose, he turned away. Back then, she had convinced herself it was his shyness, his reserved nature. She never imagined that all his yearning, all the love he had buried deep inside, was meant for Scarlett.

They had shared countless nights together, tangled in the intimacy of the same bed, yet Ambrose had kept a piece of himself untouched, reserved for the one he truly loved.

Hazel’s nails bit into her palms, the sharp sting almost suffocating. She cast her gaze downward, her eyes falling on the high heels that felt too tight, too heavy.

They were a gift from Ambrose for their engagement, sparkling crystal diamonds that caught the light like a thousand stars. The shoes were as expensive as they were beautiful, a fairytale dream brought to life. Hazel had fallen in love with them the moment she saw them.

But no matter how stunning they were, they were one size too small, and the pain from wearing them had left her feet bloodied and raw.

Without a second thought, she slipped them off and tossed them into the trash.

Shoes that didn’t fit, no matter how dazzling, weren’t worth keeping.

And a marriage that didn’t fit, no matter how much love it held, wasn’t worth salvaging.

Just as she reached for her phone to call a cab, Ambrose appeared behind her. His voice sliced through the air, calling her name.

Hazel turned, meeting his gaze. The moment their eyes locked, Ambrose released Scarlett’s hand, guilt flickering in his eyes as he noticed the bruise on Hazel’s face.

“You’re sober now? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to snap you out of it before things went too far.”

Hazel glanced at Scarlett, and Ambrose quickly added, “It’s not what it looks like. Let me explain…”

“Don’t overthink it. Scarlett had too much to drink. It wasn’t safe for someone like her to walk home alone at night, so I brought her back here. She’s your sister, after all. It’s only natural for me to look out for her. Besides, she’s a considerate girl. She insisted on leaving early because she didn’t want you to misunderstand when you came back.”

Ambrose, usually a man of few words, suddenly became a fountain of excuses when it came to Scarlett. Every sentence seemed to be a defense, a justification for her actions.

Hazel stared at him, the man she had known for over twenty years, and felt as if a stranger stood before her.

They had grown up together, childhood sweethearts through and through. She had been by his side, supporting him through the grind of building his career. How had she ended up as nothing more than a placeholder?

The question lingered in her mind, but she didn’t want to seek an answer anymore. In seven days, she’d be gone.

She no longer had to endure it for the sake of "family harmony."

Hazel’s eyes locked onto Scarlett, and the words she had kept buried for over a decade finally slipped free, tumbling from her lips like a long-held breath.

“She’s not my sister. She’s the daughter of a mistress, and now she’s a mistress herself!”

The words hit like a thunderclap, shaking the room. Scarlett didn’t flinch, but Ambrose’s face twisted in fury.

The word “mistress” seemed to strike a nerve, unraveling his calm facade. He surged toward Hazel, his voice a roar that shattered his usual composure.

“Hazel! What nonsense are you spouting? Apologize to Scarlett right now!”

“Fatherless, motherless, no wonder your parents couldn’t stand you. You’re a bitter, vile person, and no one will ever love you. You deserve this!”

For ten years, Ambrose had never raised his voice at Hazel. But for Scarlett, in the span of one day, he had shouted at her twice.

Every word he spat was like a blade cutting deep into the rawest parts of Hazel’s soul.

Every word felt like a dagger, cutting deep and leaving scars that would never fully fade.

For a moment, Hazel thought she had misheard, her mind struggling to grasp the weight of what Ambrose had just said.

How could such cruel, venomous words come from his mouth? The man she had loved for so long.

She lifted her gaze, only to find Ambrose standing there, his body shielding Scarlett.

That familiar protective stance was too much to bear. It mirrored the past, when Scarlett's mother, Althea, had risen to the role of mistress, pushing Gianna, Hazel's mother aside and subjecting Hazel to endless cruelty. Zaccheus, Hazel's father had turned a blind eye.

And each time, it was Ambrose, who lived next door, who rushed in to defend her.

He had always been the one to stand up for her, to demand justice, to pull her into his arms and offer comfort when the world seemed too harsh.

When Hazel doubted her worth, Ambrose would always be there, declaring, "Hazel, you're the best person in the world. If they don’t want you, I do! No matter what happens, I’ll always stand by your side and protect you."

But years had passed, and those youthful promises had crumbled into nothing more than hollow echoes.

Now, Ambrose’s desire to protect was no longer aimed at Hazel but at Scarlett, the one who had caused her so much pain.

Hazel tried with all her strength to hold herself together, but tears spilled over, unstoppable.

Her heart was a raw, aching wound, and no words came to her to defend herself.

Seeing her like this, Ambrose's expression faltered, his guilt evident as his eyes avoided hers, instead landing on her bleeding feet.

"You're hurt?"

After all these years, Ambrose still couldn’t quite harden his heart against her.

He sighed softly, his words weighed down by regret. "Forget it. Let’s just say tonight was all nonsense... from being drunk. From now on—"

“There won’t be a ‘from now on,’” Hazel interrupted her voice barely a whisper.

"What?"

Ambrose sensed something had shifted within her, something he hadn’t expected.

But with everything that had unfolded that night, Ambrose’s mind was consumed by thoughts of Scarlett, leaving him with no energy left to focus on Hazel.

Just as he was about to speak, Scarlett’s voice, shaking with sobs, pierced through the air.

"Sister, do you really hate me that much? Forcing me to go abroad wasn’t enough; you want to drive me to my death, too? Fine, I’ll die, so I don’t burden Brother Ambrose anymore!"

Her words hit like a thunderclap, and before Hazel could respond, Scarlett ran toward the road.

It was late, empty streets, no cars in sight, but the panic surged within Ambrose, and he threw aside all hesitation. He rushed after Scarlett, his only thought to reach her.

In his frenzy, he collided with Hazel, sending her crashing to the ground. The sharp gravel scraped against her bleeding skin, the sting of it almost too much to bear.

The blows to her body, the weight of everything, drained her completely. She couldn’t even summon the strength to cry.

Ten years of love, gone, wasted. It had always been one-sided. A childhood sweetheart could never compete with an unexpected love.

She couldn’t compete with the woman Ambrose had held in his heart all along.

After what felt like an eternity, Hazel struggled to her feet, dragging her injured leg as she limped back to her room.

Once inside, she tended to her bloodied feet, then, with one final glance, she threw away the carefully selected wedding decorations she had once hoped would mark the start of forever.

Her gaze fell on the wedding countdown hanging in the living room, and for a brief moment, she hesitated.

Then, with a resigned sigh, she ripped off the word “wedding” and, in her heart, silently replaced it with a countdown to her departure.

There was so much to pack. The hours blurred together as she worked through the night, only falling into a restless sleep at four in the morning.

Barely three hours later, the shrill ring of her phone pulled her from her dreams.

“Hazel, are you awake? I ordered your favorite soup. I won’t be back today. Let’s push the wedding photoshoot to another day. There’s an emergency at the company, and I really can’t leave.”

Hazel rubbed her aching temples, her voice hoarse as she replied, “Alright.”

Her quick agreement and perhaps the sadness she couldn’t hide seemed to make Ambrose uneasy. His tone softened as though he was uncertain of the distance growing between them.

“Don’t dwell on what happened yesterday. I’ve already apologized to Scarlett on your behalf.”

“Okay.”

“Scarlett said weddings are just a show, nothing to stress about. Our bond is so strong that we don’t need these formalities to prove anything. Let’s keep it simple.”

“I’ll follow your lead.”

Hazel had already made her decision. This wedding would go down as the simplest one in history.

No wedding photos. No marriage certificate. No officiant.

And no bride.

After hanging up, Hazel stood up, her hand steady as she grabbed a marker and slashed “Wedding Photoshoot” off her calendar.

Ambrose’s work always consumed him, and Hazel had always been careful not to disturb him, especially when he was busy. While she’d been planning the wedding, she’d bought a special wish calendar, pouring her dreams into it. Each event was a marker of hopes she longed to fulfill, one last grand gesture for a once-in-a-lifetime occasion.

Now, those dreams were swallowed by thick, regret-laden strokes of ink, leaving nothing but a void of unspoken sorrow.

With a deep sigh, Hazel glanced around the room, the glaring red of wedding decorations mocking her every move. It had taken her the entire day to strip the room of its once carefully arranged decor.

By evening, however, Ambrose's name was everywhere.

“To win a smile from his beloved, the CEO spends 8 million on a vintage pearl brooch.”

The photo was grainy, but the woman beside Ambrose was assumed to be Hazel.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. So, this was where all the money that was supposed to be for their wedding had ended up.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Hazel had long since shut the door on any sadness tied to Ambrose.

Over the next few days, he didn’t come home. Hazel didn’t ask where he was or make any arrangements for him as she once would have. Instead, she handed in her resignation, said her goodbyes to a few close colleagues, and quietly began telling her friends of her plans to leave the country.

Her friends exchanged knowing glances, their sighs blending in perfect unison.

"We had a feeling this was coming," one of them murmured softly.

Without a word, one of them opened Ambrose's social media feed and handed the phone to Hazel.

"To the outside world, it might look like these pictures are of you," she said gently, "but we all know it's Scarlett."

Only then did the truth sink in. Ambrose had been with Scarlett this whole time. Though he rarely updated his social media, his posts had been flooding in, each one more frequent than the last, each one dedicated to her.

They visited amusement parks, tried on wedding dresses at bridal shops, and shared quiet moments under the moonlight atop a mountaintop.

Ambrose's love for Scarlett was as clear as day, laid out for the world to see. The only thing he’d done to hide it was block Hazel from seeing it all.

Her friends exchanged concerned glances, the silence stretching on too long.

"Hazel, are you alright?" one of them finally asked, her voice laced with worry.

"There’s no need to waste your tears on someone like him," another chimed in. "Ambrose doesn’t deserve your love. Once he sees the truth about Scarlett, he’ll regret this for the rest of his life."

Hazel offered a faint smile, her eyes drifting to the lively streets outside the window.

"It’s fine. I don’t care anymore." Her voice was quieter, almost resigned. "But I do need a favor…"

In just a few days, she would leave this place, cutting ties with the past. She no longer had the luxury of drowning in heartbreak over Ambrose.

When Ambrose finally returned after days of silence, Hazel couldn’t muster a reaction. She remained distant, her indifference cutting through the tension.

Ambrose, for his part, was lost in his world. Even when he finally stepped inside, his eyes never left his phone, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen, oblivious to everything around him.