Chapter 2

Freya cooked for Xavier, bathed him, read poetry for him, and accompanied him to watch the sunrise and sunset.

She even went to the church to get a love charm for him, saying she'd pray for him there, begging the heavens to let him stay in this world a little longer.

And me, her fiancé, was left on the sidelines like a pathetic outsider.

I endured, tried to talk sense into her, even begged her. "Freya, we still have our wedding and our future. You can't treat me like this," I said.

She shot back, "Julian, he's dying. Can't you just be a little understanding? Why are you so cold-hearted?"

Cold-hearted? Me?

I'd spent fifteen years for her, kept the Blake family together for her, and prepared a grand wedding for her. And she called me cold-hearted?

But I still didn't give up. I told myself she was just too soft-hearted, too easily swayed.

Once Xavier was gone, she'd come back to me, and we'd finally have a happy life.

And then tonight changed everything.

The night before our wedding, Freya actually knelt in front of me, begging me to let her try on wedding dresses with Xavier.

"Julian, can't you just be a little more generous?" she pleaded, desperation written all over her face.

She added, "Just trying on the wedding dress, just taking a few pictures, so that he can leave without regret. Tomorrow, I'll still marry you, I swear!"

I looked at her, saw the urgency and longing in her eyes. I suddenly realized that I had never really known Freya.

She was always so aloof, but for Xavier, she could lower herself to nothing. She was so arrogant, but for him, she'd give up all her dignity. She was always indifferent, but for him, she could show a softness I'd never seen before.

It was not that she couldn't love. She just didn't love me.

"Freya," I said as I crouched down and calmly unclasped her fingers from my hand.

I added, "If you step out of this door, the wedding's off. There will be nothing left between us. Ever."

My tone was so calm, it sounded like I was talking about the weather, not ending our relationship.

She froze for a moment, a flicker of conflict crossing her eyes. At that moment, I thought she would choose me. I thought fifteen years together would at least make her hesitate.

But then, that struggle was taken over by an almost martyr-like sense of duty.

She gritted her teeth and stood up. Without even giving me an explanation, she turned and rushed into the rain.

Her figure was determined yet frantic, as if something terrifying was chasing after her.

I knew that terrifying thing was me, our engagement, the truth she refused to confront.

She chose Xavier over me. The night before our wedding, in the heavy rain, she abandoned me without hesitation.

I stood under the porch, watching her back disappear into the storm, listening to the car engine roar to life and the tires splash through the puddles. And then, everything fell silent.

At that moment, I heard my heart break.

It was very crisp, like fragile glass dropping to the floor and shattering into countless pieces.

I stood there for a long time until the rain soaked my shirt and the chill sank deep into my bones. Finally, I turned back into the house.

The villa was empty, but everywhere I looked, there were traces of the wedding that should have happened.

Our oversized wedding photo hung on the wall. She was in a pure white dress, her smile graceful yet distant.

Candy boxes sat on the coffee table, printed with both our names. A new carpet stretched up the stairs, all the way to the bridal suite on the second floor.

I walked upstairs and opened the door to the bridal suite.

Scarlet bedsheets, a couple of pillows, and the double happiness character stuck to the wall. There was a photo frame on the bedside table, a picture of us as kids.

Seven-year-old me and seven-year-old her, standing in the Blake family garden. She took my hand, looking all proud, while I was grinning like a fool.

I picked up the frame, staring at it for a long time, and then turned it face down on the table.

I didn't make a scene. I didn't smash anything in the bridal suite. I just calmly took out my phone and called my assistant, Felix Bell.

My voice was eerily calm as I said, "Release a statement.

"The engagement is off. Because Freya is off chasing true love."

Felix froze for a moment, then asked nervously, "Mr. Hart, are you sure? The wedding's tomorrow, all the guests are already here."

I cut him off, "Sure. I'll take all the losses. And book me a flight, the next one out, anywhere. Just get me out of here."

Felix said, "Julian."

"Handle it now," I said.

After hanging up, I started packing. I didn't need much, just a few changes of clothes, a passport I hadn't even opened yet, and a credit card were enough.