Ambrose’s mind wandered to the future, imagining Hazel back in the country, working as his secretary. It would be perfect. He would see her bright, confident smile every day. A small, genuine smile touched his lips as he daydreamed. But when he looked up, Hazel was gone.

The strawberry cake remained, mostly untouched; a few bites were taken, the rest abandoned. A sharp emptiness stabbed at Ambrose’s chest. Forgotten memories crashed back. He remembered Hazel had never liked strawberry cake. It had always been his favorite, something she had learned to make with love, just for him. She had made many small sacrifices for him.

Ambrose downed his coffee, but it tasted of nothing. The bitterness couldn't compare to the emptiness gnawing at his heart. As he returned home, a flood of thoughts consumed him—thoughts long suppressed. What did Hazel truly desire? What made her heart flutter? He spent the night wrestling with these questions, a nagging feeling persisting. Exhaustion claimed him by morning, but sleep offered no peace.

He dreamt of Hazel at eighteen, vibrant and excited. “My biggest wish is to marry you!” her words rang in his ears. He awoke, heart racing, tears soaking his pillow. The forgotten memories flooded back, clearer than ever. With renewed purpose, he booked the earliest flight home.

Ambrose’s mother was displeased by his return. She demanded he come to the Wright family home immediately. Since Hazel’s flight from the wedding, the Wrights had been ridiculed. Now, instead of taking charge, Ambrose was chasing Hazel across the globe. Claudia couldn't understand what made Hazel so special. Countless women dreamt of becoming Mrs. Wright, yet Ambrose couldn't forget this one. Determined, she decided: upon his return, she would arrange a blind date for him—a poised and graceful bride this time.

But Ambrose didn't go to the family home or the company. He went to Belmont Villa. The neat, pristine living room sparked unexpected fury. "Who told you to clean up?" he demanded. William, his assistant, cautiously replied, "The old madam's orders. She thought the house looked unkempt."

Ambrose's fists clenched. He frantically searched for Hazel's belongings. Fortunately, William, understanding their importance, had kept them safe. Everything was carefully preserved. Ambrose rummaged, his fingers tracing the fragile fragments of the past. It became clear why Hazel had kept these things. They weren't just objects; they were shared memories, a testament to their life together. But Hazel had left them all behind, taking her sadness, regrets, and the shattered pieces of their love.

Ambrose’s eyes fell on the wedding ring, a single band remaining. Tears streamed down his face. “I was wrong… so wrong… no wonder she never forgave me,” he whispered. He stumbled back, knocking over a trash can.