Chapter 6

I quit the cushy job he arranged for me at his company and blocked him everywhere without a second thought.

When Nova found out, she stormed over to my place.

"Bella, are you for real? That's Wyatt we're talking about. Are you seriously gonna walk away from your gold mine?" she asked.

I kept packing, not even looking up. "My bones are buried under that gold mine. If I stay any longer, there'd be nothing left of me, not even scraps."

"So, what's your plan now?" Nova pressed.

"I'm just gonna disappear somewhere he'll never find me and start fresh," I replied.

The night before I was about to move out, Wyatt came banging on my door.

He was so wasted that he couldn't even hit the keyhole.

When I opened up, he nearly knocked me over with his weight, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.

"Bella... you're cold. Really cold," he slurred.

He pinned me against the door, his hot breath burning against my neck.

"Why are you leaving? Is it because I didn't give you enough money? Or is it Stella getting under your skin? Just say it, if you stay, I'll give you whatever you want," he slurred.

I pushed against his chest, my heart completely numb. "Wyatt, get real. You don't need me, you just can't stand losing your perfect little tool."

"No... you're not just some tool to me..." Wyatt protested.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around me, holding me so tight that I could barely breathe.

"Bella, I'm just so used to you... Used to coming home and seeing the lights on, used to having someone rub my temples, used to that goofy look you get when you pray in church..."

Used? What a scary word.

He treated habits like love, but forgot that habits could always be changed.

"But I'm not used to it anymore," I said.

I shoved him away hard, watching as he staggered into the cabinet.

"I'm not used to seeing you lose sleep over another woman, not used to always being labeled as the 'distant relative' in your contacts, not used to losing the Bella who could still smile, just to make you happy," I said.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes.

"Bella, I can change..." he said, his voice trembling.

"Don't," I said, pointing at the door. "Just go. Don't make me lose even the last shred of my dignity."

Wyatt walked out, carrying nothing but his loneliness.

But a man like him was never going to stay down for anyone for long.

Early the next morning, I saw Stella's post on social media.

It was a photo of a fancy dinner invitation, with the caption: [After all the twists and turns, the best is still by my side.]

The location was Wyatt's private winery.

I looked at that post and honestly, I didn't feel a thing.

Turns out, letting someone go really just took a single moment.

I left my luggage at Nova's place and only took a simple backpack with me.

Before leaving, I stopped by the cafe where we first met.

The owner still remembered me and smiled, "Bella, here to buy ice water for Mr. Rogers again?"

I shook my head. "No, he doesn't drink it anymore."

Truth is, he never actually liked it. He just liked seeing me hand it to him, all meek and submissive.

I boarded the high-speed train out of the city.

The scenery outside sped by, and just like that, those six years with Wyatt were swept away for good, left behind with everything else.

My phone suddenly got a text message.

It was from an unknown number, but I knew it was him.

[Bella, you win. Just come back, and I'll stop seeing Stella completely. Next week, we'll get married.]

I looked at the message and let a faint smile tug at my lips.

He still didn't get it.

What I wanted was never just a wedding; it was his heart, the one he never really gave to me.

But he dug that heart out himself, handed it over to Stella Ward, and let the business world turn it cold as ice.

I hit delete and blocked his number, locking it away for good.

Just as the train started moving, a light rain began to fall.

I remembered six years ago, that scruffy boy who handed me a tissue in the rain.

I remembered how he said, all cold, "Don't bother," and then walked away into the rain.

Wyatt, I kept you dry for six years, standing in the rain for you.

Now, the rain has stopped.

It was time for me to bask in my own sunshine.

But I couldn't help wondering, when Wyatt found the last thing I left for him in that big, empty house, what would he feel?

It was a blessing charm I'd prayed for.

On the back, there was a single line written in small handwriting: [I wish you a long life. And I wish you no one to share it with.]

[I wish you a long life. And I wish you no one to share it with.]

Wyatt spent the whole night sitting in that empty villa, all by himself.

The ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts, and the air felt heavy and lifeless. Out of habit, he reached for the water by his bedside, but there was nothing there.

Back when Bella was around, no matter how late he got home, there was always water and two pills for his stomach waiting for him.