Goodbye, I’m Leaving You Behind

My gaze fell on the shirt she wore, and my stomach twisted sharply. That shirt… the one I had bought for him on our first anniversary. Back then, I had nothing—only meager scraps of savings from skipping meals and pawning my mother’s necklace. When I handed it to him, he had broken down completely. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and swore I would never have to bleed for him again. He promised to shield me from every hardship life could throw my way. For years, he folded that shirt carefully, keeping it like a relic, too precious to ever be worn. And now she wore it. Smiling. Leaning into him. Her eyes found mine as if she had just noticed me standing there, then she pressed her cheek to his back, feigning shyness. “Why didn’t anyone tell me someone was here? Look at me—I must look ridiculous.” Damien frowned, trying to free himself, but she only clung tighter. The pride in her gaze… it wasn’t even hidden. I forced my eyes elsewhere. “I’m just here to return some things. When it’s convenient, please hand me back the token.” I held out the signet ring. The symbol of everything I had thought would last. He hesitated for a heartbeat, and I dared to think he might finally see me. But instead, he tightened his grip on her hand and sneered. “Do you really think I’m free right now?” Breathing felt impossible. My fingers shook around the box, trying to stop myself from trembling. I had told myself I was ready to walk away—but seeing this, seeing them like this, cracked something deep inside me. I remembered the first time we had fought over her. He had fallen to his knees, swearing that everything he did was to repay a debt, that it was only temporary, that the delay in our wedding was meant to bring us together sooner. But her debt never ended. It grew and consumed everything I should have had with him. Tonight, the last snowflake fell, and the avalanche finally broke free. I could let go. I placed the signet ring carefully on the table, forcing my hand not to shake. “Then when it’s convenient, have someone return it to me.” I had planned to speak, to finally say the words—let’s end this—but then I saw her nails clutching at his shirt, clinging to him like she owned him. His body stiffened under her touch. My stomach twisted violently. I couldn’t stay another second. I turned and walked toward the door. “Wait.” His voice cut through the room like a knife. I froze. “Are you really breaking off the engagement?” His tone was low, dark, threatening. I tilted my head just enough for him to hear. “Yes.” I caught the curve of his mocking lips. He stepped forward suddenly and kicked the boxes stacked against the wall. “If you’re ending this, why are you holding on to this junk?” He stared at me, waiting for me to crumble, waiting for tears like before. But I didn’t. “You’re right,” I said evenly. “No need to keep them. If they bother you, throw them out yourself.” His fists clenched, knuckles cracking audibly. “I wouldn’t touch your things. Take them yourself. So you don’t have an excuse to come crawling back later.” “Fine.” Numb, I entered the bedroom and began gathering every fragment of myself from the space. This had been our wedding room. Every shelf, every drawer, every corner held the memories we had built together since childhood. Now I was erasing myself, piece by piece. When my eyes landed on the red bedsheet—wrinkled, stained—my stomach lurched. I pressed my hand to my mouth, choking back bile. That sheet… evidence. Proof of what they had done, of his betrayal. Tears threatened to fall, but I swallowed hard and forced myself to calm down. From the living room, I could hear them—giggling, laughing like lovers who wanted me to feel every bit of it. They wanted me broken. I kept my expression blank, kept folding, kept packing. When everything that was mine was gone, I closed the bedroom door gently. Then his voice reached me again. “Celeste… remember when you promised to do something for me, unconditionally? That still counts, right?” My heart stuttered. Memories flooded back: the summer after college exams, the swollen river, my reckless attempt to cross it. The current almost swept me away, and he had jumped in without hesitation, pulling me to safety with one arm while the other scraped against jagged rocks. Blood ran freely, yet he smiled, so I wouldn’t feel guilty. I had promised then, tears in my eyes, to do anything he asked, one day, no questions asked. Back then he had said, “All I want is for Celeste to be happy for the rest of her life.” I had laughed, telling him to choose something for himself. He had only smiled. “As long as you’re with me, I don’t need anything else.” And now… here he was. Softly kissing her forehead. “Maddie wants cherry cake from Sun Valley. Go get it.” I stared at him, burning holes into him with my gaze, then whispered, “Alright.” Even this favor—my last promise—was for her. Always for her. And that was fine. That way, nothing remained between us.

When I stepped outside, New York had been swallowed by a storm. Snow fell thick and fast, clinging to my hair, my lashes, coating the streets in a treacherous white. I gritted my teeth, climbed into the car, and drove, even though I knew the roads were against me. I’ve never been a confident driver, and the slick streets, coated with fresh snow, nearly threw me off more than once. Every block felt like a battle, every turn a gamble. By the time I finally got the cherry cake, my legs were wobbly from slipping on the icy sidewalks countless times. My fingers were numb, the box barely in my grasp. I handed it to her. She took a bite, scrunched her face, and spat it into a napkin. “It’s freezing. It tastes awful!” she whined. Damien didn’t respond. Without a word, he tossed the entire box into the trash, crouched down, and scooped her up into his arms. “Come on. I’ll take you somewhere warm to eat.” I stayed frozen, holding myself together, until he glanced at me, irritation written all over his face. “Why are you just standing there? Get in the car.” I had no strength left to argue. Sliding into the back seat, I pressed my head against the cold glass, shutting out everything around me. The ride was torture. Ariana leaned against him, whispering into his ear, and he let her. Their laughter echoed in my skull, a dull thrum against the numbness in my limbs. I closed my eyes, willing myself to pretend this wasn’t happening. Then, headlights blazed into my vision. A car from the opposite lane had spun on the ice, sliding straight toward us. Damien didn’t hesitate. He swerved sharply, the world tilting sideways, and in the split second before impact, he threw himself over her, shielding her completely. The crash slammed into me like thunder. Pain shot through my body, the world narrowing to one image: him. Him holding her. Protecting her. My lips trembled, and everything went black. --- When I woke, I was in a hospital bed. A stranger told me they had found me unconscious and brought me here. A week passed. Not once did Damien appear. Every day, though, I saw her. Ariana. Her posts were sharp as knives, images of him at her bedside, holding her hand, feeding her soup. “I didn’t expect that between life and death, he would choose me,” she wrote. “He wanted to see you, but I said I had a headache, so he stayed.” “Celeste, I’ll make sure I’m the only one in his heart.” I blocked her. I blocked him too. Before, I might have hoped we could part without hate, that some shard of what we once had could survive. But after this… no. I didn’t want to see him again. Not once, not ever. The day after discharge, it was his mother’s birthday. I wanted to stay away, to cut every tie to the Thompsons. But she called relentlessly, begging me to come, even threatening that she wouldn’t celebrate if I didn’t. She had always been good to me. After my parents died, she treated me like her own daughter. I couldn’t ignore her, especially since she was the only warmth left in that house. Besides, if I was ending this engagement, I needed to do it in front of her and his father. They deserved to hear it from me. I agreed. His mother loved grand celebrations. By the time I arrived, the house was alive with glittering lights and laughter, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. And then I saw them. Ariana holding Damien’s arm, steadying him, his voice sharp and cutting through the hum of the party. She noticed me. Striding toward me, she tilted her head and smiled that cruel little smile. “Look at you. Nearly got yourself killed just to protect me,” she mocked. My stomach tightened. Before I could even move, her gaze locked on mine. “Damien’s mother is so on your side. You must feel very proud,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. I tried to pull away, but she clung to my arm, nails digging into my skin. “She’s only on your side because of your mother,” she spat. “Your parents were short-lived, weren’t they? Gone. How long can that friendship last? Once I have Damien, do you think she’d ever go against her own son for you?” Something inside me snapped. My parents—no one dared touch them. Before I realized it, my hand had struck her face. The sound of it cracked through the room. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she stumbled back, sobbing into Damien’s arms. “I only told her not to stay angry at you!” she cried. “But she said I shouldn’t care at all. That you mean nothing to her!” Damien’s expression darkened. He looked at me like I was a stranger. “Celeste. APOLOGIZE.” I laughed bitterly. The man who once shielded me from everything now stood as her protector. I stared at them, then turned toward the door. I wanted no part in this twisted display. But Damien’s hand clamped onto my wrist, hard enough to make me wince. The pain in my bones was nothing compared to the ache in my chest, seeing him believe her. I lifted my eyes to him, steady and unflinching. “I hit her because she insulted my parents. And as for you… she’s right. Someone who chooses her over me without even asking the truth is nothing to me.” One by one, I pried his fingers off, refusing to be trapped, and finally walked away.

By the time I reached the stairs, a single tear had slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. My mind flashed to years ago, to his friend who had tried the same trick, painting me as cruel and selfish. Back then, Damien hadn’t hesitated for even a second. He had defended me fiercely, even dragging out security footage to make sure his family would never misunderstand me. I had believed, naively, that he would always stand by my side. But now? He didn’t even pause. He simply believed her. I dug my nails into my palm, desperate to stop the tears. I wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away, never look back. But Damien’s mother kept speaking softly, pleading for me to stay. She had been good to me since childhood. After my parents died, she had treated me like her own. How could I abandon her now? I slipped away from the crowd, searching for a quiet corner, a small refuge where I could breathe, where I could gather what little composure I had left. After the engagement broke, I noticed how terrified Mrs. Thompson was that Damien might run straight back to Ariana. She didn’t want that door to close completely between him and me, so she kept guiding him to my side during every moment of the banquet. Ariana, by contrast, was left sulking in the corner. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a drunk, entitled young man stumble over to her, pressing himself into her space. He wouldn’t leave, and the crowd around them pretended not to notice. Everyone had seen what had happened earlier, yet no one intervened. Ariana’s eyes grew red, her lip trembling as though she might cry. Then, as if summoned by some unseen force, Damien appeared. His fist slammed into the man’s face with brutal precision. The guy staggered back, clutching his jaw. “Damien! You wouldn’t let me touch Celeste before, and now you won’t let me touch her either?” the man shouted. “Celeste’s your fiancée, but who the hell am I to you?” Damien’s gaze lingered on him for a long, tense moment before flicking to me. His jaw tightened, his voice low and deadly. “She’s mine.” The room went silent. My chest constricted. Then, in a cruel twist that made my stomach turn, I watched him sweep Ariana into his arms and kiss her fiercely, loudly, as everyone watched. She clung to him as if she would collapse without him. “If anyone dares bother Ariana again,” he said, his voice a dangerous growl, “I will never let them go.” The room shifted around me. People who had defended me hours earlier now gathered around her, forming a protective circle as if she were a queen. My stomach lurched so violently I could barely breathe. I ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, pressing my hands over my mouth to stifle sobs, but the tears came anyway, hot and unstoppable. My chest ached from crying so hard. Finally, I sent Mrs. Thompson a text, apologizing, saying I wasn’t feeling well and would return another day to speak with her. I wiped my face, took a shaky breath, and opened the door. I barely made it two steps before someone grabbed my wrist. It was Xander, the same man Damien had just punched. His grin was cruel, his eyes dark and assessing. “Honestly,” he said, voice low and teasing, “I’ve always liked you better than that Ariana. I only stayed away because Damien protected you like you were priceless. But now… he’s protecting someone else. If you want, I can take over.” I recoiled, jerking my wrist free. “I don’t want you. And this is the Thompson manor. I’d think twice before doing anything reckless here.” His expression darkened, anger from the earlier punch flaring. He lunged, shoving me against the wall, and then his lips crashed against mine. I fought, hands trembling, clawing for the emergency phone on the wall. Miraculously, I hit it. “Damien! Xander won’t leave me alone, come quick—” But all I heard was his sneer over the line. “Maddy was harassed by him, and now you too? Celeste, when did you start playing games like this?” My throat tightened. “I didn’t! He really is—” The line went dead. Ice slid into my veins. Damien had hung up. Xander’s grip tightened, dragging me toward the bathroom. Panic roared in my ears. I grabbed the nearest decoration from the wall and smashed it against him with all my strength. He screamed in pain and loosened his hold. I bolted, stumbling into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it with shaking hands. My whole body shivered as I called Mrs. Thompson, begging her to send someone. She arrived quickly. Her orders were sharp and immediate: servants dragged Xander out as he cursed and kicked, his rage fading with every step. I collapsed against the door, utterly drained. Mrs. Thompson didn’t scold me. She didn’t question me. She simply directed the servants to help me upstairs to change. When the banquet ended, she insisted on sending me home herself. At the car, she reached out, adjusting my hair like my mother used to. “Before you leave for Europe, come see me more often,” she whispered, eyes glistening but voice calm. “I’ll send your token later.” I nodded, thanking her with every ounce of strength I had left, and slid into the car. We were still some distance from my apartment when the driver’s phone rang. I hadn’t meant to listen, but Damien’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. “Turn around immediately! Ariana has a stomachache. She needs to go to the hospital now.” I turned toward the window, silent. It was always her. Always.

The driver stole a glance at me in the rearview mirror, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Madam said Miss Celeste was upset earlier… She told me to bring you home first.” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “Since when do you care about outsiders? Huh?” Outsider. That word cut through me. My hands clenched the strap of my bag until my knuckles ached. That was who I had become—nothing more than an outsider. I didn’t want to make things harder for him, so I told him to stop the car and let me out. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, then pulled over. The cold air hit me the second my feet touched the pavement, biting and harsh. Within moments, the taillights had vanished into the night. I trudged along the empty street, scarf wound tightly around my face. The wine from the banquet still buzzed faintly in my system, and my thoughts wandered to memories I shouldn’t have revisited. Mrs. Thompson’s last birthday floated into my mind—everyone teasing us about wedding dresses and future children, all of it light, warm, and full of laughter. That day, I had been so happy that I drank too much and ended up doubled over with stomach pain. It had been storming that night. No taxis. Damien couldn’t use the family car. But he didn’t care. He had carried me through icy streets all the way to the hospital, refusing to let me cry, refusing to let me suffer alone. And now, a year later, that same Damien could leave me standing alone on the roadside for Ariana. My nose stung. I tightened my scarf, keeping my steps slow and deliberate. By the time I reached my apartment, my muscles ached from the cold. I was just about to unlock the door when a hand suddenly covered my eyes from behind. “Guess who?” My heart jumped, but I forced myself to remain calm. Slowly, I pried his hand away, keeping my face unreadable. It was Damien. His frown deepened when he realized I wasn’t playing along. He lowered his hand awkwardly and pulled a small box from his pocket. “My mom said you left something behind,” he murmured, turning it over between his fingers. “I was told to bring it back. What is it?” The box wobbled lightly in his grip, and my breath caught. That small container… it held the token of trust my mother had exchanged with the Thompsons before she died. I lunged forward, snatching it from him before he could pry it open. His eyes narrowed. “Celeste… are you hiding something from me?” I could feel the sharp corners of the box digging into my palm. Once, Damien and I had promised never to keep secrets from each other. That was before Ariana. Before lies became effortless, before he learned how to bend the truth without a second thought. I gripped the box tighter, the ache radiating into my chest. I looked up at him. “It’s not a secret. But there’s no reason I should tell you.” We weren’t anything anymore. I turned toward my door, wishing this night could end. But he moved faster. Damien yanked my bag open and pulled the box back into his hands. “Really?” His voice dripped with mockery. “What is this? A gift from some outsider? Is that why you didn’t want me to see it?” Something inside me shattered. I didn’t think. I reached for it, stretching onto my toes, desperate to reclaim it before he could open it. He held my hand, steadying me. I knew he liked this, the way it reminded him of the past—when I had laughed, thrown myself into his arms, begged for what he had taken. He used to love that. This time, I stared up at him, and he noticed. My eyes were red. His smile faltered. “You cried… just because I wanted to see it?” he asked quietly. I pressed my lips together. All I wanted was for him to hand it back. That was all. But before I could explain, his phone started ringing. Once. Twice. Over and over, relentless. I glanced down—the screen lit up with her name. Ariana. Damien shifted, restless, visibly anxious. Finally, he muttered, “She keeps calling. I don’t know what’s wrong… maybe something happened. She’s alone. I should go—” “Give me back my things, then leave,” I interrupted, voice steady. His face darkened. I could see the words die in his throat. But the phone wouldn’t stop. Finally, he shoved the box into my hands, rough and careless. The lid popped open, and a yellowed piece of paper slid out, fluttering to the floor. He glanced at it once, then turned and left without a word. I bent down, picked it up, and saw what it was. Our marriage certificate, waiting for his signature. Without thinking, I tore it into pieces. The scraps fell into the trash along with whatever remained of us.

After that night, I knew there was nothing left for me here. Nothing but emptiness and cold streets. No family, no ties, only this city that had turned its back on me. I had to sell everything before leaving. My parents’ apartment. The wedding house Damien had bought for us. Both names on the deeds meant I couldn’t just walk away. I had to see him one last time. I sent him a message. Silence. I waited, but time wasn’t on my side. I didn’t want to return to New York later just to settle this. So I opened his profile, hoping to find some clue where he was—but the moment I clicked, my heart dropped. I had been blocked. The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. I thought about calling his mother, but she told me Damien hadn’t come home since that night. Swallowing my pride, I messaged Ariana. “I need to speak to Damien. Tell him, please, and let me know.” Her reply came instantly. An address. It was the villa—our holiday home, the place we’d shared in secret, where no one else was ever allowed. Where I had kissed him for the first time. Where he’d whispered that this sanctuary would always be ours, untouchable. And now she had been there too. I told myself not to think, not to feel, and drove. The road wound through silent trees, but when I arrived, the silence was gone. Laughter echoed everywhere. Strangers filled the house that had once been ours alone. I walked along the garden path, chest tight with dread. Then I saw them. Ariana, half-kneeling, her lips brushing his cheek. “Thank you for letting me bring my friends here,” she said, honeyed and sweet. He moved slightly to pull away, but then his eyes lifted—and they landed on me. The trace of her kiss still lingered on his face. And all I could think of was that night, our first kiss right here in this villa. My awkward, clumsy little thank-you kiss. He’d smiled then, so warmly, and after that, he always asked for kisses whenever I made him happy. Every corner, every wall here had witnessed our love. And now… they would see it end. I waited until she finally stepped back, then took a careful step forward. My hands shook slightly as I held out the papers. “You bought our wedding house,” I said quietly. “Since we’re done, it should go back to you. Take a look. If you don’t want it, I’ll buy it back at market price.” Damien’s gaze sharpened. Cold. His knuckles cracked as he gripped the documents as though they were filthy. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking. “Anything else?” I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “I still have some things inside. I’d like to collect them this time.” His expression darkened, as though I’d said something unforgivable. Ariana’s hand flew to her lips in a fake gasp. “Oh, I thought all that stuff in there was junk. I moved everything to the storage room. Want me to take you?” I nodded politely. “Thank you.” She smiled, sweet and calculating, brushing her hand against Damien’s shoulder as if claiming him. She started to move, but he caught her wrist instantly. “I’ll go with you,” he said. Her cheeks colored. She pouted. “Why are you so clingy?” I lowered my eyes and walked ahead, pretending I hadn’t noticed anything. The storage room was tiny—the smallest in the house. Cramped. Stale. Barely enough room for two. Damien leaned against the doorway, eyes cold as ice, watching silently while I rifled through my belongings. The weight of his silence pressed on me. Ariana crouched beside me, pretending to help, her perfume thick and suffocating in the confined space. Her voice was soft but cutting. “You’ve found so many reasons to see him again. You really haven’t let go, have you? Fine, I’ll help.” Before I could even react, she brushed against a shelf, and a box teetered, then toppled. I barely had time to react. Damien’s pupils narrowed. He lunged—but not toward me. He grabbed Ariana, pulling her up into his arms with a ferocity that left her stunned. The box missed her by inches, but slammed into my shoulder. The impact sent me tumbling to the floor, pain flashing bright and blinding. I crumpled there. Damien frowned, just frowned. Then, without a glance my way, he cradled her as if she were glass, her arm scratched, and rushed her outside. I heard him call for a car, voice sharp with concern—but none of it was for me. Pain spread through my body, and I could barely breathe. My vision blurred. Yet in the creeping darkness, a thought brought me a strange calm: It’s good I don’t love him anymore. If I don’t love him, I won’t cry when he chooses her over me. If I don’t love him, I can finally stop waiting for someone who will never save me. Ariana’s friends swarmed when they saw her tiny scratch. Damien hustled her to the car, to the hospital. No one glanced back. I don’t know how long I lay there. Dawn found me. The maid discovered my crumpled form in the storage room, eyes wide in shock. She called for an ambulance immediately. She even called Damien. “Mr. Damien,” I heard her say faintly through the phone. “Miss Celeste was badly hurt. She collapsed in the storage room. The ambulance is on its way. Do you want to see her?” A pause. Then his voice—flat, indifferent, final. “Why should I go? The ambulance is coming. It doesn’t concern me anymore.” The maid tried again. He snapped, voice sharp. “Make sure she and her things are cleared out properly. I don’t want her cluttering my home.” The line went dead.

I lay there, lips pale, body strangely still. Somehow, my heart felt unnervingly calm. This was it—finally fading completely from his world. Later, the doctors told me the injuries weren’t fatal. Still, the maid didn’t know who else to call, and in the end, she reached out to Damien’s mother. The moment she heard, she rushed over, panic written all over her face. That night, she stayed by my side, tending to me with care the way her son never would. I woke to raised voices outside my door, carried clearly down the silent corridor. “You idiot!” his mother’s voice rang sharp with anger. “I don’t care where you are! If you want any chance of fixing things with Celeste, get here immediately. If you let this slide, she’ll never forgive you!” For a heartbeat, I held my breath, waiting. Hoping. Then his voice slithered through, low and cruel. “Why should it matter if she forgives me? The engagement is done. Her things are gone. Even if she dies, I won’t show up at her funeral.” Click. The phone line went dead. Silence swallowed the corridor. The door opened, and his mother stepped in, cheeks flushed, hands trembling slightly. Embarrassed, her gaze landed on me. “Celeste… Damien… you know how he is when he’s angry. He says things he doesn’t mean. Don’t let it hurt you.” I shook my head. Words felt useless. He didn’t need protecting from me. He was right—we were done. He’d severed all ties; I had to do the same. She sighed softly, a sound of quiet resignation. She moved closer, perched on the edge of my bed, and unfolded a piece of paper. “Celeste,” she said gently, handing it to me, “these are dowries I’ve prepared for you. You’re going far, starting fresh on your own. You’ll need property, finances, security. These will give you strength.” My chest constricted. I shook my head quickly. “Mrs. Thompson… I can’t take this.” Her hand covered mine. “If your mother hadn’t brought me out of that little village years ago, I wouldn’t even be here. I owe her… and I owe you. Damien wronged you. As his mother, I need to make this right.” Her eyes softened. “Once you’re in Europe, I’ll make sure someone helps you with the transfers.” The door burst open suddenly. A familiar voice cut through sharply. “Who’s going to Europe?” I froze. I dropped my lashes, kept my mouth shut. I didn’t look at him, pretending he wasn’t even there. His mother glanced between us and let out a small sigh. “It’s Celeste… she—” He cut her off, eyes sliding to mine. “You’re going to Europe? Right. You mentioned before that you wanted to visit your aunt. But… your injuries this time are serious. It’s not safe yet. How about we wait a little? I can stay with you for now, get things organized, then go with you.” A bitter laugh threatened to escape me. Yes, I’d once told him I wanted to go. He’d promised to come with me. And yet… he never had. Why? Because Ariana had whispered to him her envy. She said I always had someone by my side, while she, poor little Ariana, had never left her village. She claimed she’d never seen the world. So he canceled his plans behind my back and took her abroad instead. Together. Leaving me alone. I remembered that day so clearly. I waited until the last flight was gone, calling endlessly, heart aching with worry. Then dawn came, along with the photos—him and Ariana at another airport. Smiling. Together. And now, after everything, he stood here acting as if he still planned to go with me. Nothing left to hope for. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him the truth. That I wasn’t going to visit family. That I was marrying. That I wasn’t leaving for a short while—I was leaving New York for good. I’d never return unless I had no choice. Before I could speak, he sneered. “You don’t need me to go? Then who do you want? That pretty boy who gave you a gift the other day? Don’t tell me you’re going alone. You couldn’t even read a boarding pass. You’d get lost and end up crying, begging me to rescue you.” I exhaled, heavy and exhausted. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I didn’t need him. I didn’t want him. He had no place near my wedding. But I never got the chance. His phone lit up. He glanced at it, face softening in an instant. Turning away, he muttered, “Alright. Seems like you’ve got plenty of strength. That makes me feel better. Maddie hates being alone, so I’ll go keep her company. Europe? I’ll come with you once you’re healed.” He even smiled at his mother. “Thanks for taking care of your daughter-in-law, Mom.” Her gaze cut him cold. “Get out.”

“Goodbye, Damien,” I said. For a moment, he froze. His shoulders tensed, and he turned back toward me as if I were offering forgiveness. As if I were giving him hope. His hand brushed against my hair. “Goodbye, Celeste. I’ll bring you flowers and cake tomorrow,” he murmured. I stared at him, steady and unflinching, but he didn’t even bother to meet my gaze. He simply walked away, lighter on his feet, retreating straight to Ariana. His mother watched him leave, then turned to me. The sigh she released spoke volumes, more than words ever could. --- Damien never appeared in my hospital room, despite his promise. Instead, he sent some errand boy with a cake and a sunflower—which I hated because of my allergy. I didn’t even look at them. I handed the items directly to the servant his mother had assigned to care for me and returned to packing my things. Half an hour earlier, I had seen Ariana’s post online. She was flaunting herself again, claiming that Xander had discovered she was hospitalized and tried to bother her. Luckily, Damien had swooped in, playing hero. She whined playfully about only having a tiny scratch and how Damien had exaggerated things, forcing her to stay in the hospital for a week. Then she giggled about how it gave Xander more chances to harass her. In the end, of course, she forgave him—because he had bought her favorite cake, apologized, and “saved” her. Beneath her post was a photo of Damien on one knee, smiling as he opened a cake box for her. I pressed “like.” Then I blocked them both. The servant returned just as I zipped my bag. “Miss Celeste, everything is ready. The car is waiting downstairs. We can leave now.” I nodded and followed silently. When the elevator stopped on the eighth floor, the doors slid open. There, in front of me, I saw Ariana leaning in, brushing a kiss across Damien’s cheek. He stood by her hospital room door, a faint smile on his face. I just watched. Felt nothing. No anger, no sorrow. Nothing at all. --- A week later, I was scheduled to fly to Europe for my marriage. I had refused so many times, but Damien’s mother wouldn’t listen. She insisted on a farewell party, even preparing a dress and jewelry for me. I had no choice but to stay a bit longer, planning to head to the airport immediately after. That night, everyone from my childhood showed up. Everyone—except Damien. During the party, someone leaned in, whispering with a sly smirk, “I thought you two were really done. You said the engagement was over, and he’s been showing that servant woman all over town. Yet… here you are, still connected. Must be fate, huh?” I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?” They blinked at me and then looked away, saying nothing further. I stopped trying to make sense of it. I smiled instead, turning to the elders who had always cared for me and thanked them. I hugged my friends one by one, inviting them to my wedding in Europe if they could come. “You’re marrying here? Will Damien even let that happen?” one asked. I shook my head, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Not with him.” They exchanged shocked glances, unable to ask more. To them, my life had always been tied to Damien. Everyone knew he would be my husband since childhood. He had made sure no one else came near me. If I wasn’t marrying him… who else could I possibly marry? I laughed bitterly. The room grew awkward, but I didn’t care. I checked the time and excused myself, heading to say goodbye to his mother. As I stepped out, I saw one of my friends on the phone. “Where are you? Why didn’t you come tonight? You know—Celeste—” Damien’s voice cut in, calm but urgent. “She’s upset I didn’t show, right? Don’t tell her, but I’m on my way. I planned a surprise. Help me—bring her to the rooftop garden. I’ve got the ring. Don’t let her leave.” Then the line went dead. My friend stared at the phone as if it had betrayed him. Who was telling the truth? Me, leaving to marry another? Or Damien, rushing to propose? I didn’t wait for his answer. I had already changed and directed the servants to load my luggage. He spotted me and ran over. “Where are you going? Europe? Why so fast? Can’t you wait?” I paused. He had grown up with me; maybe it was hard for him to accept. I forced a smile. “If I wait, I’ll miss my flight. Don’t worry—we’ll see each other again. Come to my wedding, okay?” He grew frantic. “Are you really marrying someone else? Does Damien know? Shouldn’t you at least say goodbye to him?” My chest tightened at the mention of his name. I shook my head softly. “No.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I checked the time and cut him off gently. “I really have to go now.” I slid into the car and shut the door. Slowly, the vehicle rolled out of the Thompson estate. At that exact moment, another car passed ours. Through the glass, I caught a glimpse of Damien—holding a small ring box, eyes shining with anticipation. I didn’t glance again. He was probably imagining my surprise, picturing the perfect moment—our parents, childhood friends, everyone who mattered, and me, the girl he still thought he owned. But I was already gone.

Damien'S POV I rushed upstairs after changing clothes, heart pounding like I was a teenager again. The rooftop garden was all set, lights glowing soft and romantic, the ring box heavy in my hand. Tonight was it. I had already done my duty by Ariana, repaid her for saving me. That chapter was closed. From now on it was only Celeste. I sent a quick text to my buddy. Bring her up. Everything’s ready. No reply. I frowned, pacing back and forth, glancing up at the night sky. A plane streaked across above Manhattan, a tiny glimmer disappearing into the clouds, and for some reason my chest tightened. An uneasy feeling crawled up my spine. I pulled out my phone and shot Celeste a message. “Come up to the rooftop, I’ve got a surprise for you.” The notification came back red. Blocked. I blinked at the screen, not believing it, then checked again. Same result. My stomach sank. Right then my friend finally texted back. “Damien, sorry bro. Emergency at home. Couldn’t wait. Maybe… propose another day?” Another day? Was he kidding me? I clenched my jaw, staring at the glowing candles I had arranged myself. I waited. Five minutes. Ten. Thirty. An hour. My legs grew restless. The ring box felt like it was burning through my palm. Finally, I gave up. Dang. “She’s probably downstairs. I’ll find her myself,” I muttered. “It’ll still be a surprise.” Celeste would never say no to me anyway. She’d been mine since we were kids. That thought calmed me a little as I walked back down. But the party was already over. The rooms were empty. Only my mother sat in the living room, holding a photo in her hands. Her shoulders were trembling as she whispered something. I walked closer, confused. “Mom? Why’re you crying? Whose photo is that?” She looked up. Her eyes were swollen, red, wet with grief I couldn’t understand. “It’s me and Celeste’s mother. I failed her, Damien. I failed both of you. Celeste’s gone.” “Gone? Don’t say it like that. Where would she go? She’s probably with her aunt, right? Maybe she slipped out before the party ended.” My mother shook her head slowly, as though every movement cost her. “She left, Damien. To France.” “France?” I repeated, incredulous. A bitter laugh slipped out. “That’s all? Mom, you nearly gave me a heart attack. France isn’t another world. I can get on a plane tomorrow, meet her there. She promised she’d wait for me. You say it like she’s never coming back. Why’re you making this sound so final?” Her silence unsettled me more than her words. She lowered her gaze, her thumb brushing across the edge of the photo. “If you’d listened back then, you wouldn’t be surprised now.” “What do you mean back then?” I snapped, “If you’d told me earlier, I wouldn’t have wasted time setting up candles, buying this ring—” I opened my palm, showing her the box like proof. “I’d have gone with her. I’d have followed her to the ends of the earth.” Her eyes softened with pity, and it enraged me. “Would you, Damien? Or would you have stayed here again… chasing shadows?” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice rose, but beneath it was fear. Something was wrong. Something I didn’t want to admit. She pressed her lips together, almost like she’d said too much. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.” “No, tell me. You’re hiding something. What do you mean again? What aren’t you saying? Mom, look at me!” Her tears brimmed over, spilling down her cheeks. She set the photo down gently, as if afraid it would shatter. “That box,” she whispered, “the one I told you to give Celeste. Do you even remember it?” My heart lurched. The snowy night came rushing back—Celeste’s pale face in the hospital bed, her voice steady as she said goodbye. The unopened box sitting in my drawer, ignored because Ariana kept calling. My throat tightened. “Mom… that box you gave me for Celeste… what was it really?” She looked up at me then, her eyes glassy but resolute, and gave the answer I’d been too blind to prepare for. “It was the token I exchanged with her mother when you two were engaged. Inside was the marriage certificate our families prepared... the one meant to be signed after the ceremony.” For a moment, the world fell out from under me. My ears roared with silence, my pulse crashing like a war drum. The ring slipped from my hand and clattered against the floor. Celeste hadn’t just left for France. She had ended us. Completely. And I hadn’t even seen it coming. I sat there staring at my own hands like they weren’t mine. The longer I looked, the more I realized what I’d done with them. I thought Celeste returning the keys, the house, all those things—was just her throwing a tantrum, punishing me. I never thought it meant she’d already made up her mind to leave me. I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “I really thought… I really thought she’d never walk away. That no matter how much I messed up, she’d still come back. Every time I pushed, she pushed back, but she stayed. I kept thinking, she loves me too much to really leave. God, I’m an idiot.” I remembered how I used Ariana, again and again, dangling her in front of Celeste just to spark her jealousy. I wanted her mad, wanted her to fight me, so I’d know she still cared. I thought she’d slam the door, then open it again like always. I thought it was some twisted game only we knew how to play. I squeezed my fists, my voice cracking. “What did I do? What the hell did I do?” The memories rushed in. Me accusing her of lying about Xander harassing her. Me calling her pathetic for competing with Ariana. Me brushing it off when she saved Ariana in that accident. Me not even checking when heavy crates nearly crushed her. And worst—my own voice echoing in my head, cold and sharp. We don’t have any relationship anymore. Even if you die, I won’t be at your funeral. I pressed my palms into my eyes, but the pain in my chest only grew sharper. Breathing hurt. Living hurt. My phone buzzed nonstop. I picked it up and the screen flooded with messages. “Damien, what’s happening? Celeste said at the party she’s going to Europe to marry. That’s with you, right?”