Chapter 4
Sergio was so thrilled he teared up, giving me this woebegone look. "You'll never grasp how precious you are to me.
"Wendi, I'm scared stiff of messing up and disappointing you. If I ever tick you off, no matter how furious you are, could you hold off on passing sentence right away?"
That memory prompted me to pick up my phone and video-call Sergio.
This was my final sincere stab at salvaging our relationship.
I wasn't sure if I was seeking confirmation that he'd really changed or clinging to some hidden hardship I didn't know about.
But it was Della who answered—the girl from his office that day.
Sergio's personal phone was loaded with our happy snapshots; he guarded it like a hawk, never letting anyone else touch it.
Yet here was this family friend's little sister, not only holding it but unlocking it with ease.
Talk about a bucket of cold water.
I bounced from the southwest over to the northwest.
Naturally, I ran smack into a blizzard; roads were closed, stranding me in a remote village.
Sergio's call didn't come until a week later.
His tone was cool and collected as always. "Wendi, you've thrown your fit—mood improving yet?"
He eased up, like he was offering an olive branch. "Grandpa's 80th is coming up soon. We can lock in the wedding date while we're there."
All the while, I was tucked away in a cozy guesthouse in a far-flung northwestern spot, gazing serenely at the blanket of snow outside.
This journey had let me wallow in the memories, mourning the loss of our love.
Until I reached a place of calm acceptance.
I asked Sergio, "Blizzard's hit Khario—I'm snowed in here. Think you could come rescue me?"
With his resources, pulling together a team to get me out should've been a breeze.
He paused before replying, "I'm booked tomorrow, but I'll swing by the day after.
"Hang in there, Wendi—I'll be quick."
I couldn't help laughing. "Just pulling your leg—I'm safe in Qenset. I'll make it to Glen's bash."
Sergio exhaled in relief. "Wendi, don't joke about safety stuff like that. You had me worried."
But if he was truly concerned, why brush it off with a casual "wait a day"?
After we hung up, I checked WhatsApp. Della had dropped a fresh update on her social media.
[Sergio is whisking me off to Disneyland tomorrow! Time to grind and cozy up to him.]
During our earlier call, she'd said, "Being with you wears Sergio out big time. You're still so tangled up with your ex—feels like a duo with an unwanted plus-one.
"He's only truly at ease around me."
She'd thrown out, "Curious what's tops for Sergio: your well-being or my good time?"
The answer was obvious.
Della had flooded me with pics of their daily vibes.
At a work dinner, Sergio twisting her hair into a bun.
Skipping duties to shop with her for family gifts, even standing still while she adjusted his tie.
Each frame nailed that tender, permissive look in his eyes.
But I knew Sergio better than anyone.
He probably wasn't even that smitten with Della.
He was just venting.
Unloading his gripes about this flawed romance, his bitterness over "settling" for someone like me—secondhand.
Once he was purged it all, he'd fold, bury the hatchet, and commit to being the perfect partner.
After tomorrow's Disneyland jaunt with Della, I'd wager he'd revert to form—steering clear of other women, loving me with undivided attention.
Otherwise, why float the idea of nailing down the wedding?
When he set his mind, he followed through without fail.
But who was going to linger in place, twiddling thumbs while he sorted himself out?
The day I returned to Qenset, I went home for a quick breather before heading to the hospital.
That night, a critical patient in the ward needed urgent resuscitation—I didn't catch a single wink. The next day brought over a dozen new admissions.
By the time I dragged myself back to my office, I was completely drained.
Sergio had obviously been waiting for ages.
He didn't even notice—or care—that other doctors were still around, snapping at me, "Wendi, you actually went to Khario—why the hell did you lie?"
I collapsed into my desk chair, too exhausted to put on a front or sugarcoat anything.
"What, Disney's fireworks not dazzling enough, or the carousel too dizzying? Now you're venting at me?"