Falling silently, Gianna descended the stairs to find Hazel standing by the door, tears falling. Without hesitation, she rushed to her daughter, embracing her warmly.
“Hazel, darling, don’t cry. Tell Mom what happened.”
Though the person who had been outside was gone, the ache in Hazel’s heart remained, sharp and bitter. Burying her face in Gianna’s arms, Hazel finally spoke, releasing words long held captive.
“Why does he love Scarlett so much? What makes her so special? Their first meeting felt like fate, but what about us? What about all the years we spent together?”
“He says those hard years are what keep him going, that he holds Scarlett in his heart. But the only thing he wants to remember is her.”
Gianna felt a sharp pain. She gently stroked Hazel’s back, but comforting words eluded her. In the face of such overwhelming emotion, words felt empty, powerless to mend the brokenness. Having weathered similar storms, Gianna understood. Pain and tears were part of growing up, part of navigating life’s chaos. She couldn’t erase her daughter’s pain, but she could offer silent support.
Hazel cried for a long time, as if purging every tear, every painful memory. As the night wore on, however, a shift occurred. Clarity emerged, and she began to see—not for him, but for their ten years together.
Finding some semblance of calm, Hazel stood, resolute, and dialed Ambrose’s number from a public phone.
After leaving Hazel, Ambrose felt an emptiness, as if a part of him had been torn away. The sweet, innocent girl from his past seemed increasingly distant, a fading memory. When an unfamiliar number flashed on his phone, he assumed it was another call urging his return to the country. He almost dismissed it, but something compelled him to answer.
The moment Hazel’s voice reached him, Ambrose knew he’d made the right choice. Then, her words hit him like a plunge into icy water. Her voice, cold and final, shattered his expectations.
“I don’t love you anymore,” she said, each word a stone to his heart. “I’ll always appreciate your kindness during my darkest times. For that, I forgive the pain you’ve caused me. As for the USB drive… let’s call it even. I called to tell you something. Running away wasn’t revenge; it was my decision. I’m choosing to let you go, to let go of everything we were. From now on, we owe each other nothing. I hope we can both live our lives in peace and never cross paths again.”
The call ended, leaving Ambrose speechless, stunned into silence. Hazel had loved him fiercely, without a doubt. But once his betrayal was revealed, she had acted swiftly, decisively. Now, she was gone, graceful in her departure, as if nothing had happened. He stood, lost in the aftermath. What was he supposed to do now? More than twenty years together, unraveling in an instant.
Ambrose’s hands shook as he searched for a cigarette. His fingers fumbled, the lighter trembling as he tried, and failed, to light it. Once. Twice. Nothing. In a flash of frustration, he almost threw the lighter away. Then, something stopped him—something unexpected. The lighter, worn and familiar, was a gift from Hazel. Their names were etched into it. He’d laughed at her then, calling her childish. But now, as the memory of her laughter faded, he wondered, where had that sweet, naive girl gone?