As she slipped the household registration book into her pocket, ready to leave, Vivienne’s gaze caught on a small box tucked away at the bottom of the cabinet.

She hesitated.

For a moment, she simply stared as if the box itself carried a weight too heavy to bear. Then, almost against her will, she reached out and picked it up.

Inside lay a photograph, a diamond ring, and a delicate diamond pendant.

The photograph was from her graduation, the day Rafael had rushed to her side, insisting on taking a picture together. His smile back then had been carefree, eyes alight with something that almost felt like love.

The diamond ring nestled beside it was also his gift. She could still hear his voice, teasing yet earnest, “Sister, this ring is our token of love. It may be small, but my feelings for you are priceless! When I marry you in the future, you’re not allowed to back out!”

Meanwhile, the pendant, a treasured keepsake, was once gifted by Maximilian Moretti, his father.

“This diamond pendant has been passed down in our family for generations. Now that you and Rafael are so in sync, it’s only a matter of time before you marry. I’m giving it to you, hoping you two will grow old together. Vivienne, don’t think it’s too small.”

She lifted the pendant, letting the dim light catch its translucent surface. A vivid green streak ran through its center, glowing like a vein of life within the stone.

It was beautiful.

She had once loved it.

She had never been eager to wear it, tucking it away in this box alongside other cherished belongings.

Beyond that, the walk-in closet was lined with remnants of Rafael’s past affection, luxurious brand-name handbags, exquisite dresses, and tokens of a love that once existed. But as she stood there now, she realized it had been a long, long time since he had given her anything at all.

Leaving home, Vivienne proceeded with quiet determination, canceling her identification card and household registration.

Rafael had been gone for days, vanishing as if he had been swallowed by the earth.

It wasn’t until the third day, just as she signed the final document severing her legal ties to this life that her phone rang.

A call from his assistant.

“Sister-in-law, come quickly! Something happened to Rafael!”

His words struck like a bolt of lightning.

After storming off in anger, Rafael had disappeared without a trace. Now, after days of silence, he had been found speeding recklessly down the road before a violent crash left him comatose, clinging to life in a hospital bed.

By the time Vivienne arrived, the emergency consultation had already taken place. The moment the doctors saw her, urgency filled their voices.

“He needs an immediate blood transfusion. If he doesn’t get it now, he won’t make it.”

One of the doctors hesitated, a deep frown lining his face.

“But, Director, the blood bank is critically low. We might not have enough…”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Vivienne rolled up her sleeve. “Take mine. My blood type matches his.”

The doctor’s gaze flickered with hesitation. “You…”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Lying on the hospital bed, she barely flinched as the thick needle pierced her vein. A sharp sting coursed through her arm, but she merely furrowed her brows and turned her head away.

“Rafael, you always believed I owed your family a life. Consider this my repayment.”

“From this moment on, we owe each other nothing.”

The blood transfusion left her drained. Darkness crept over her vision, and before she could fight it, she slipped into unconsciousness.

When she finally came to, she heard that Rafael had regained consciousness.

Ignoring the nurse’s protests, Vivienne forced herself up, stumbling toward Rafael’s hospital room.

The sight before her made her breath hitch.

Freya sat beside him, clutching his hand, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“You’re finally awake, Brother… I was so scared… so scared…”

“Don’t be,” Rafael murmured, his fingers brushing over her hair in a soothing gesture.

“If it weren’t for you donating blood in time, I wouldn’t have woken up so quickly.”

Vivienne’s fingers trembled at his words.

Freya leaned closer, her voice laced with sweetness. “Of course! If I didn’t save you, who else would? Brother, I was terrified.”

She took his hand, pressing it against her chest. “Feel that? My heart is still racing…”

A faint, weak smile curled Rafael’s lips. He said nothing more.

Vivienne stood at the doorway, watching. A cold, piercing chill slithered through her veins.

She lingered for a moment, then let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.

What was she feeling sentimental about? Vivienne, weren’t you always just an outsider?

Without another glance, she turned and left.

For the next few days, she didn’t step foot in the hospital. She buried herself in finalizing the paperwork, tying up every loose end.

Three days before her departure, Rafael was discharged.

The moment she entered the house, she was greeted by an all-too-familiar scene. Freya was carefully helping Rafael onto the couch; her touch was gentle, and her expression was full of concern.

Rafael’s gaze snapped to Vivienne the second she walked in. His expression darkened.

“I just came back to grab a few things. I won’t be in your way.”

She barely spared him a glance as she turned away. “You two go on.”

“Vivienne!”

Rafael shoved Freya aside and limped toward her, his voice sharp with frustration. “Can’t you even look at me properly?”

“I was in a car accident! I was hospitalized for days; do you even care? If it weren’t for Freya’s timely blood donation, I might have—”

Freya bit her lip and gently rolled up her sleeve, revealing faint bruises beneath the delicate skin.

Rafael let out a cold laugh.

“But you, Vivienne… You didn’t visit me. Not once. You have no heart. You’re completely cold-blooded.”

Vivienne tilted her head, watching the man before she seethed with rage. Amusement flickered in her eyes.

“Don’t you have Freya?”

“You love her, and she loves you. So why does it matter whether I look at you or not? Do you expect such respect from a mere servant?”

Rafael let out a sharp, bitter laugh, his fury barely restrained.

Freya, sensing his temper spiraling, quickly stepped in and helped him upstairs, murmuring soothing words.

Vivienne stood still, her gaze following his retreating figure. Absentmindedly, she touched her arm.

To donate blood for him, she had pushed her frail body to its limits; her limbs had trembled uncontrollably, sweat dampening her skin.

Her entire arm was swollen, but he never noticed.

Forget it—there was no need for him to know.

She was leaving soon anyway. If he wanted to hate her, so be it.

Ever since Freya had donated blood, Rafael’s affection for her had only deepened. The pretense of loving Vivienne had crumbled entirely.

The media feasted on their so-called romance. Everywhere she turned, there were photos, images of Rafael kissing Freya in public, of him holding her close. Their love, displayed for the world to see.

Before, Rafael had cared enough about his reputation to keep such images out of the public eye.

Now, he no longer bothered. In the comments, he openly declared Freya as the love of his life.

Freya, glowing with pride, accompanied him on strolls through the garden, by his side during hospital visits.

Lost in their affection, they embraced and kissed in public without restraint.

For days, the media was flooded with their photos, sparking heated discussions.

Vivienne heard enough whispers to last a lifetime.

“At the very least, she’s still his fiancée. This is just too humiliating.”

“So tragic. For a woman to end up like this....”

“It’s all that scumbag Rafael’s fault!”

But to Vivienne, those comments were fleeting and insignificant, disappearing before they could leave a mark.

The next time she saw Rafael was the day before his birthday.

“You’re coming,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Grandfather has already decided that our wedding date will be announced at the banquet. Don’t even think about running away.”

His expression darkened. “Freya will be there too. Take care of her.”

Before Vivienne could respond, Rafael added coldly, “And when you make the cake, be mindful. Freya doesn’t like sweets. Use strawberries; she’s allergic to mangoes.”

Vivienne nodded, but a sharp pain tore through her chest as if an old wound had been ripped open.

Once, he had known her preferences just as clearly.

And now…

Forget it.

She turned toward the kitchen without another word.

The higher-ups had already informed her she would be leaving in the next couple of days.

Since this would be the last birthday cake she ever made for Rafael, there was no point in lingering on anything else.

Vivienne busied herself through the night, her hands moving in practiced motions.

As she baked the cake base, memories surfaced, clear, vivid, inescapable. She and Rafael had once tried baking together. It had been their first attempt, and neither of them had any control over the heat. The batter had sunk, the edges had burned, and yet, through every failure, they had laughed.

Later, while she spread the cream, Rafael slipped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting against her shoulder. His warm breath brushed her skin, and his voice rumbled softly.

"Vivienne, you're so good to me."

Then, he'd turned his head, kissing her cheek.

"Can you make a cake for me every year from now on?"

She had dipped her finger into the cream, smearing it across his face with a playful grin. His stunned expression had sent her into peals of laughter.

The sharp chime of the oven dragged her back to the present.

Vivienne took out the cake, and a sweet aroma filled the dining room.

She reached for the cream, a small smile tugging at her lips, and then, a sudden sound from the bedroom shattered the warmth.

A teasing, breathless voice rang out.

"Oh no, your injury hasn’t healed yet! You can’t, you can’t touch me!"

"I don’t care; I’ll touch you anyway!"

Laughter followed, light, coy, filled with unmistakable intimacy.

Freya’s voice was heard, saying, "Brother, you said you’ll always be by my side tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," Rafael answered.

"Brother, you're so good to me. I feel so happy, so, so happy."

Another giggle.

"Ah, I told you not to touch me there; it tickles!"

"Forget it. You might as well just eat me up. I can’t escape from your grasp anyway."

The laughter that followed was laced with breathless gasps, intimate and teasing.

Vivienne felt something inside her twist violently, as if an unseen hand had wrenched her heart from her chest. Her vision blurred. She pressed her fingers against her eyes, rubbing hard, willing herself not to see, not to feel.

So, she busied herself, anything to drown out the sounds echoing in her mind.

The three-tiered fruit cake was complete when the first light of dawn spilled through the window.

Rafael had always asked her to limit sugar, so she had added only a hint of xylitol, letting the fresh fruit’s natural sweetness carry the flavor.

Vivienne placed the cake in the fridge. The exhaustion she had been ignoring finally caught up to her. She rested her head on the dining table, and before she knew it, sleep pulled her under.

And in her dreams, she drifted back to a time untouched by pain, to days that had once been so simple, so beautiful.

Senior year had been relentless, with nights of studying stretching endlessly and stealing her sleep. She often stole short naps between classes, resting her head on her desk whenever exhaustion weighed too heavily.

The golden sunlight had always spilled through the windows, warm against her face.

"Why are you sleeping here? You’ll catch a cold."

Rafael’s voice was gentle, familiar.

She had felt the soft weight of his coat as he draped it over her, careful not to wake her.

Such a familiar feeling.

Such a warm dream.

Vivienne didn’t want to wake up. But the moment her arm slipped, she startled upright, reality dragging her back.

Blinking, she wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes, not even realizing when they had fallen. Slowly, she straightened her posture.

A thin coat slid from her shoulders, pooling onto the floor.

It was Rafael’s jacket.

The stillness in her heart, once as quiet as an undisturbed lake, rippled with faint waves.

She picked up the jacket, running her fingers gently over the fabric.

It carried his scent.

Her gaze lifted, landing on a large gift box on the dining table.

It was wrapped exquisitely and adorned with a bold red bow, the satin ribbon tied with perfect precision. Beneath it, a small card rested.

"Wear this dress, or you’ll embarrass me."

A tremor ran through her hands as her fingertips brushed against the bow.

Lifting the lid, she found an evening gown nestled inside, fiery red, vibrant, breathtaking.

A memory surfaced, his voice echoing softly in her mind.

"You look beautiful in red."

Vivienne stood frozen, her fingers tracing the fabric as she lifted the dress.

For a fleeting moment, something stirred within her, a heartbeat she thought had long since withered.

But it was gone just as quickly as it came. Before she could even try on the dress, her phone vibrated with a message from Freya.

She was at a boutique, selecting outfits for the banquet.

With Rafael.

The image that followed made Vivienne’s breath catch.

Rafael stood tall in a perfectly tailored suit, his presence commanding even with the faint bruises marring his face and the slight unsteadiness in his step. None of it dulled his striking allure.

Beside him, Freya wore white. Not just any dress. A light wedding gown.