“Ambrose, there’s no need for this charade,” Hazel said, her voice steady, though the bitterness was unmistakable. “I know you married me out of duty, not love. I’m leaving. Let you and Scarlett be together.”

Ambrose felt those words like a spoiled child’s tantrum. He sighed, his tone softening, almost pleading, as if trying to convince himself as much as her. “Hazel, don’t say things in anger.”

“You’re running away from this marriage to provoke me, to make me notice you. You still care, you still love me. You’re angry because I’ve been distant, so this is your retaliation.”

He stepped closer, his voice steady, as if the outcome were already decided. “It’s okay. I’ll forgive you. Just come back, and you’ll still be Mrs. Wright. I’ll take care of everything. As for Scarlett… I’ll focus more on her.”

Hazel stood, speechless, her heart sinking. She remembered a time when she had done everything to win Ambrose’s attention—crying, throwing fits, even running away—but now, his words felt profoundly exhausting. No matter what she did, Ambrose remained unmoved. He neither coaxed nor scolded, showed no anger. He simply waited, expecting her apology. It meant nothing to him.

Over time, Hazel learned not to expect anything. She had grown wiser, no longer needing his attention or affection. With this understanding, she spoke calmly. “If it’s true love, it should overcome any obstacle. What’s this small challenge? I’m sure you two will manage.”

She paused, her gaze unwavering. “But, Ambrose, you’ve already gotten everything you wanted, so why the tears?”

Ambrose froze, his hand flying to his face. Two hot tears had slid down his cheek. He stared, shocked, at the droplets on his fingers. Had he cried? For Hazel? The disbelief echoed in his chest, but before he could process it, Hazel slammed the door, leaving him to confront his emotions.

With a sharp, reverberating sound, the tears on his fingertips trembled and shattered, vanishing like fragile glass. Inside the room, Hazel wept. After all, she was human, not a machine. She couldn’t erase the memories with a thought. Her mind returned to the video, a Pandora’s box she could never close. The truth, sickening and humiliating, clung to her like a nightmare.

In Ambrose’s heart, Scarlett was a bright spot, a beacon in his darkest days. He remembered their first meeting, how completely she had captivated him. With soft, loving words, he spoke of his admiration and gratitude for her. But all Hazel’s efforts for their relationship seemed forgotten. While Ambrose and Scarlett savored their best days, Hazel poured everything—every last penny—into saving Ambrose’s business. She’d gone door to door, apologizing to clients and partners, enduring humiliation, desperately hoping for a second chance for him.

She had sacrificed everything. She’d knelt in the snow, abasing herself. She’d sat in smoky rooms, drinking and socializing, all for the deal. To close the deal, she’d even drunk herself into a miscarriage, waking up in the hospital. When she regained consciousness, her first thought wasn’t her health, but a message to Ambrose: “[Don’t worry, the company is saved.]” Ambrose never replied.

Looking back, Hazel knew where Ambrose had been: lost in Scarlett’s embrace, exploring a new world while she alone carried the weight of everything.