“Since the office is quiet today, how about I take you out to choose a new ring? Something grander to reward you for all the effort you’ve put in these past days.”

Hazel frowned slightly, her instinctive response on the tip of her tongue. She was about to decline when his phone buzzed, its screen lighting up with a message.

Ambrose glanced at it without a second thought, his expression shifting subtly. He shot to his feet, already heading for the door. But halfway there, as if struck by a fleeting memory, he turned back. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Sorry, love, I’ve been caught up with so much lately I haven’t had the chance to give you the time you deserve. I swear, I’ll make it up to you once this hectic stretch is behind us. I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.”

In the ten years they had been together, Ambrose had never spoken with such tenderness to Hazel.

He understood that women often craved sweet words, but Hazel had always been the exception. She was far too sensible, too independent, to need his coaxing.

Naturally, his efforts had always been reserved for Scarlett, the woman who thrived on attention, who could cry at the slightest slight and demand his comfort.

Yet now, guilt gnawed at him. The growing unease over his neglect of Hazel had prompted this sudden attempt to treat her better, hoping to ease the weight pressing on his conscience.

But Hazel gave him nothing in return, no smile, no frown. Her face was a blank slate, concealing any trace of emotion.

Once Ambrose left, Hazel walked to the bathroom, her footsteps steady but deliberate. Slowly, methodically, she washed her face, rinsing away every trace of Ambrose’s fleeting touch as if cleansing herself of his presence.

Belated love. Hollow compensation after betrayal. Hazel didn’t want any of it.

The days crept by, and soon, it was the eve of the wedding. The calendar had thinned to just two fragile pages, one hanging by a thread. Today’s wish read, “Have a family reunion dinner together.”

For over twenty years, Hazel had carried this hope silently in her heart. Yet, deep down, she knew it was a futile dream. Her mother would never forgive her father, just as she could never forgive Ambrose.

Refusing to linger on these thoughts, Hazel brushed on light makeup, slipped into her favorite white dress, and stepped out. She watched a movie alone, ordered a couple’s meal for one, and rode the Ferris wheel in solitary silence.

When the Ferris wheel reached its peak, the sun dipped low on the horizon. The golden hues of the sunset bathed the city she had known since childhood in a tender glow. A soft breeze kissed Hazel’s face as she stretched out her arms, feeling as though her memories were unraveling and scattering into the evening wind.

As night fell, Hazel bought herself an ice cream and left the amusement park. She sat on a nearby bench, savoring the cold sweetness while gazing up at the starry sky.

The stars above had always been her solace. On those countless nights when she was cast out of her home, it was a younger Ambrose who had held her hand, lying beside her on the grass as they stared up at the heavens.

But none of that mattered now. People came and went, but the stars never faltered. No matter where she went, those same shimmering lights would always follow her, unchanging and eternal.

After finishing her ice cream, Hazel stood and began walking home. The stars above twinkled softly as her phone buzzed with a message from Scarlett.

[Dad’s sweet-and-sour fish is amazing! You’ve probably never had it, right?]

Hazel opened the attached video. It captured a lively family dinner scene. Ambrose and Scarlett sat at the center of the table, surrounded by festive red decorations. Laughter echoed in the background as their families chatted about the upcoming wedding.

Scarlett’s petty provocation didn’t anger Hazel. She had endured countless jabs like this throughout her life. Instead, she found it absurd.

Wedding plans? Whose wedding were they truly planning? Hers or Scarlett’s?

Hazel didn’t see the point in arguing with Scarlett. With a calm resolve, she deleted the message, blocked Scarlett’s number, and opened her chat with Ambrose.

Their last conversation was over a week old.

As she scrolled through the thread, a painful pattern emerged. Message after message filled the screen, and she sent each one. She had poured her heart into every word, sharing everything from her lofty dreams to the tiniest details of her meals.

Ambrose’s responses were scarce; his replies were a rarity. And when he did bother to respond, the topic was always the same: Scarlett.

Hazel suddenly lost the desire to text him back.

If her words were destined to drift into silence, why waste the effort?

She was tucking her phone back into her pocket when Ambrose’s name lit up the screen. He was calling.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you home? It’s late already. Why haven’t you come back yet?” His voice carried a mix of urgency and subtle reproach.

Tonight, he had turned down Scarlett’s invitation, a rare occurrence, and returned home early, intending to spend time with Hazel. But when he walked through the door, the one who always waited for him was nowhere to be found.

She hadn’t answered his calls or texts, and his worry had escalated to the point where he almost called the police.

Hazel glanced at the clock, feeling a knot tighten in her chest.

It was 8 PM.

Ambrose had always been one to stay out late, sometimes not returning until the early hours or, worse, disappearing for the night.

Every time, Hazel had waited in silence, leaving a light on for him.

And if he had been drinking, she would fight off sleep, rising to make him soup, hoping it would sober him up.

But what had Ambrose ever done for her?

Hazel couldn’t recall a single thing. Her patience thinned, and her tone became sharper.

“Can’t I have a life of my own?”

It was the first time she had ever dared to speak back to him.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before his voice softened.

“Hazel, I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“Tomorrow’s our wedding day. I was just worried something might happen to you. Don’t be upset. Wait for me, alright? I’m coming to get you now.”

Within minutes, Ambrose pulled up in his car, unexpectedly holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

She didn’t take the flowers. Instead, she opened the passenger door, greeted by a faint yet unmistakable scent.

A wave of nausea hit her, and she quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe her hands, choosing to climb into the back seat instead.

Ambrose, absorbed in replying to his messages, remained unaware of her discomfort.

He spoke absently, “Why’d you go to the amusement park? Have you finished with all the wedding preparations?”

“Pretty much.”

Tomorrow, she would finally leave this place behind.

Ambrose chuckled, his tone light.

“I remember you’ve always wanted to ride the Ferris wheel. When I get a chance, I’ll take you and make sure you have a wonderful day. I didn’t mean to interrupt your fun today, but my mom wants to see you.”

“It’s fine. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

Hazel had a lifetime of wishes, and there would always be time later to fulfill them.

After she left the country, she would tick off her list of wishes, one by one, none of them involving Ambrose.

Once Ambrose finished sending his messages, he started the car and casually played one of Scarlett’s favorite songs.

Hazel turned her gaze toward the streets, the city she had grown up in.

It was a beautiful place.

Neon lights flickered, blending seamlessly with the starlit sky in a dazzling dance of colors.

But the longer she stared, the more the wind stung her eyes, leaving them red and sore.

When they arrived at the old family house, the dining table was already piled with leftovers.

The housekeeper was clearing the dishes while the parents of both families chatted merrily.

Ambrose and Scarlett shared a laugh, their easy camaraderie filling the space.

In the midst of it all, Hazel felt like an outsider.

Her figure caught Ambrose’s eye for a fleeting moment. He saw the lonely silhouette, and his heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, a forgotten promise resurfaced in Ambrose’s mind, one he had made years ago, vowing never to let this little girl feel sorrow again.

After a brief pause, Ambrose summoned someone to bring over a few dresses.

“Hazel,” he said softly, “I know you’ve been busy lately, so I asked Scarlett to pick out a wedding dress for you. Take a look and see if any of them catch your eye.”

Scarlett’s voice rang out cheerfully as she leaned in close.

“Sis, I’m your bridesmaid, remember? We’ll be walking down the aisle together, and everyone will see just how stunning we both look!”

Her father, a picture of affection, ruffled Scarlett’s hair with a proud smile.

Ambrose, too, grinned at the father-daughter moment, clearly pleased.

But Hazel couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wedding dress in front of her.

The fabric had yellowed with age, the cheap material stretched thin, and a large tear marred the chest. It stood out in stark contrast to Scarlett’s bridesmaid dress, elegantly designed with delicate lace and a fishtail cut that hugged her figure. If anyone looked like a bride, it was Scarlett.

Scarlett twirled with delight, her excitement evident in every spin.

“It’s gorgeous! If I had a crown, it would be perfect.”

Ambrose, never one to miss a beat, responded, “That’s easily arranged. Hazel has one, right? She’s the older sister; she wouldn’t mind handing it over.”

His gaze shifted to Hazel, but he paused as he caught sight of the wedding dress in her hands.

“How did this happen?”

Hazel’s eyes flicked toward Scarlett, and before she could speak, Ambrose stepped protectively in front of her.

“It must have been a mistake at the shop. It’s nothing to do with Scarlett. I’ll have someone fix it right away.”

Scarlett feigned concern, her voice sweet with a hint of mockery.

“But it’s so late now. The bridal shops must be closed... How about we borrow a second-hand dress for now? After all, didn’t you always say you wanted a simple wedding, Sis?”

All eyes turned to Hazel.

For two powerful families like theirs, finding a brand-new dress wouldn’t be an issue. But instead of going the extra mile, they seemed content to let Hazel compromise. After all, she’d always been the one to bear the brunt of their demands.

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to trouble anyone,” Hazel replied with a graceful smile. “You all have your own matters to attend to. I’ll handle it myself.”

Her smile swept through the room, effortlessly dissolving the tension.

The group returned to their chatter and coffee as if Hazel’s silent suffering hadn’t even been there.

Ambrose’s gaze lingered on her, his heart heavy with the knowledge of how much this wedding meant to her, yet his hands were tied. He feared the disappointment that might flicker in her eyes.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled out a bank card, handing it to her with a soft, reassuring tone.

“Don’t worry about the cost. Whatever makes you happy, that’s what matters.”

Hazel hesitated for a moment, the card feeling like an invisible barrier between them as she accepted it, her gratitude simple but final.

That soft “thank you” hung in the air, a silent line drawn between them.

Ambrose’s chest tightened, discomfort swirling inside him, but the words to bridge that gap refused to come.

Scarlett watched them closely for a moment, then, ever the opportunist, retrieved a camera from the bedroom.

“Why don’t we take a family photo now? Tomorrow will be so chaotic that the pictures might not come out right.”

Ambrose agreed without a second thought, drawing Hazel into the center, her presence a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his chest.

Just as the shutter clicked, Scarlett darted forward, stepping between them.

In the instant that Hazel lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, Ambrose’s heart lurched in panic.

“Hazel!” He cried, reaching out instinctively to catch her.

But Scarlett, ever the actress, burst into tears at that very moment.

Ambrose froze, just for a heartbeat. Three seconds of indecision. Then, with a swift motion, he turned to Scarlett.

He abandoned Hazel to crash against the sharp edge of the shelf, his hands gently pulling Scarlett into his arms, wiping away her feigned tears with a tenderness that sent a chill through Hazel’s veins.