I packed my things, determined to leave immediately, as the sun dipped below the horizon.

As I lugged my suitcase out, I unexpectedly ran into Maurice on his way home.

He glanced at me and the scattered remnants of my wedding dress, instinctively frowning.

"Stella, what's going on now?"

I looked at him incredulously. The one who had fled was him, yet he seemed to have forgotten in just a few hours.

"I'm not causing a scene. I just think being with you is pointless. If you don't want to marry me, then let's not."

I spoke calmly, burying all my grievances deep down, pretending it didn't matter at all.

Maurice, aware of his guilt, softened his tone.

"Stella, I know I messed up today, but you know Cara has depression. I couldn't just watch her end her life."

Yes, Maurice's childhood friend had been struggling, and hearing about his wedding had pushed her to the brink.

I forced a smile and locked eyes with him.

"If Cara threatens suicide at the next wedding, you'll leave me behind again, won't you?"

Maurice fell silent.

Because he would go. he could never let go of Cara Simpson.

The air grew thick with tension as I waited for his response, just like I'd waited for him to return to me.

But he didn't return to the wedding.

After what felt like an eternity, I managed a sarcastic smile.

"Maurice, let's break up. I set you free. You don't have to choose between me and Cara anymore."

My words were crystal clear, yet his expression hardened.

"Stella, take that back. I'll pretend I didn't hear it. You can throw a tantrum, but I'll arrange the wedding again. I promise there I won't leave you there a next time."

I felt suffocated; preparing for another wedding meant facing more humiliation.

His promises meant nothing to me.

It seemed Maurice had grown accustomed to being in control; his pride wouldn't let him release me.

For once, I found the patience to reason with him.

"Maurice, put away your pride. I'm not your dependent. Our love was meant to be free. You don't get to decide if I stay or go."

I had never been so cold with him before.

He looked at me in shock, but his expression soon shifted to an anger I couldn't understand.

He almost gritted his teeth and said, "You'll regret this, Stella!"

I scoffed, my steps firm as I silently affirmed my choice.

He didn't stop me as I walked out, but I heard the sound of glass shattering behind me.

I dragged my suitcase back to my studio, where I was temporarily staying.

After graduating from university, Maurice had initially hoped I would join his company.

However, with my parents' support, I insisted on starting my own fashion studio.

Thanks to my fashion design degree and a minor in business administration, I managed to run it smoothly.

Even while I was with Maurice, I never gave up on my career.

Now, I was glad I stuck to it. At least I had a place of my own to retreat to after our breakup.

Exhausted from the past few days, I slept deeply that night.

The next morning, with everything carefully planned, I took my design drafts to the company we collaborated with.

On the way there, I noticed the curious stares from people who passed me, as if they were wondering whether I had spent the night crying over yesterday's events or how long it would take for Maurice and me to reconcile this time.

Once in the meeting room, I confidently presented my designs and the concepts behind them.

The admiration in everyone's eyes restored my confidence.

Unfortunately, my design was rejected, and they chose someone else.

Just as I wondered who could be so talented, I caught a glimpse of Cara in my peripheral vision.

Of course, it was her

Noticing me looking, Cara walked over, slipping her arm through mine with an overly familiar smile.

"Stella, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I didn't expect things to get so out of hand.

"You know, I only feel at ease when Maurice is with me when I'm not feeling well."

In the past, I would have lost my temper, but now I just smiled indifferently.

"No worries. I understand."

For a moment, the smile on Cara's face froze, but she quickly regained her composure and waved to someone behind me.

"Maurice! I think Stella is upset because of me. Why don't we take her out for dinner to make up for it?"

She acted so innocent, already positioning me as an outsider, which made her behavior seem almost childish and ridiculous.

Maurice's cool eyes flickered with a trace of hope.

"Stella, I might have said some harsh things yesterday. A new French restaurant just opened on West Street. How about we try it together?"

I knew Maurice was trying to make peace.

Early in our relationship, we hadn't argued for years, until Cara returned to the country a year ago.

Since then, she had been the source of our arguments.

After each fight, Maurice would act as if nothing had happened, and I would foolishly forgive him, allowing him to take me for granted.

But not this time. I wouldn't go back.

"Maurice, I thought I made myself clear last night. We've broken up. There's no need for dinner."

Cara's eyes widened in shock, though the glimmer of triumph was hard for her to hide.

"Stella, are you serious?"

"Yes. We've broken up. It's over."

I repeated it, as if reminding myself as much as telling them.

Maurice's expression turned cold, his gaze sharp.

"Stella, don't act like a child."

I was caught off guard by his accusation, unsure what I had said that made him think I was being unreasonable.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice interrupted from behind me.

"My apologies, Mr. Christy, but Stella already has plans."

Startled, I turned around, and a wave of joy washed over me.

"Lawrence..."

He gave me a reassuring smile and stepped beside me, offering quiet support for my weary self.

"Already found someone new, Stella? That was quick," Maurice said, his voice laced with a hint of anger.

"I have a childhood friend, too, Mr. Christy." I replied, stressing his name as a way to draw a line between us.

"Ah, just like us, Maurice," Cara added with a sweet smile, clearly trying to draw a parallel between her and Lawrence.

But Maurice didn't respond to her. His eyes were fixed on me, cold and unrelenting.

I ignored him, slipping my arm through Lawrence Wilde's, straightening my back, and walking away with my head held high.

Only when we were alone did I finally relax, stopping in my tracks as tears blurred my vision.

"Lawrence, I..."

"Don't worry, Stella. I'm here."

Lawrence gently pulled me into his arms, and my face pressed against his warm chest. The steady beat of his heart was soothing, providing a comfort I desperately needed.

My tears soaked his shirt, and I realized that while my feelings for Maurice had withered, they wouldn't vanish overnight.

I told myself it wasn't worth the pain, yet my chest ached with an unbearable sorrow.

I could face Maurice without flinching, but standing before a childhood friend like Lawrence, all my defenses crumbled.

Lawrence stroked my hair with a tenderness that seemed uncharacteristic of him.

"Stella, sorry that I was late. If I'd known you were going through this, I would've knocked him out earlier."

I wiped my tears and looked up at Lawrence's indignant expression, breaking into a smile despite myself.

"Next time, you better give him a good punch."

Lawrence and I had grown up together, our childhood filled with the playful bickering of two close friends. But before anything more could develop, he had left to study abroad.

At first, we stayed in touch, sharing everything, but that changed when I started dating Maurice.

Our communication became sparse. Even when I sent him an invitation to my wedding, his only response had been a terse "Okay."

In hindsight, I was relieved he hadn't come. That disastrous scene had been humiliating enough to leave my parents furious. I had barely managed to send them off on a flight, saving them from further embarrassment.

My wedding was not a glorious thing, and I didn't want Lawrence to see it.

Lawrence drove us to a cozy diner, where he ordered a table full of my favorite dishes.

The irony wasn't lost on me. After all, it had never been me who enjoyed French cuisine. That was all Cara, who had spent years living in France.

I smiled bitterly, silently vowing to forget Maurice.