“Hazel, I will find a way to make all your wishes come true. Come home with me.”

The starry sky stretched endlessly above, but it felt oddly empty. Alone under the stars, every sense except sight seemed to drift in isolation. Hazel had tasted that loneliness too often, but refused to dwell on it. The regrets were Ambrose’s to carry now. She had already fulfilled most of her wishes; those she couldn’t, she no longer clung to.

Life was always steeped in regrets. Only through them did one learn to cherish the present.

Hazel said nothing, her silence a firm boundary as she turned and returned to her room. What happened behind her no longer held power over her.

Hazel didn’t let that night affect her; she carried on, step by step. But Scarlett, a witness to it all, couldn’t look away. She couldn’t bear the thought of Hazel living a life better than her own. Years of scheming, of carefully laid plans, seemed to crumble in that final moment. What stung most wasn’t Ambrose’s indifference, but the words he’d whispered to Hazel on her birthday.

Scarlett’s mother had taught her that their wealth and status were stolen, that to get what you wanted, you had to take it. So she learned to snatch Hazel’s toys, to claim them as her own. On Hazel’s birthday, Scarlett would blow out the candles before her. No matter how much she tormented Hazel, as long as Hazel cried, everyone rallied around her. At first, Hazel fought back, but eventually, she quietly gave in. Scarlett thought she had won.

One night, she saw Hazel slip out and share a strawberry cake under the stars with Ambrose. Ambrose smiled. “Hazel, I’ll work hard for you. I’ll give you the best life!” Hazel laughed, smearing cake on his face. They shared a carefree moment filled with laughter. That pure, sincere smile was something Scarlett had never known.

In that instant, Scarlett resolved to take Ambrose from Hazel. This time, she wouldn’t let him return to her side.

After much thought, Scarlett devised a plan. If she couldn’t reach Ambrose, she’d go after Hazel. Dressed in Ambrose’s most extravagant gift, she marched forward, her resolve sharp. She threw Ambrose’s diary at Hazel’s face.

“I’m here to tell you two things,” Scarlett declared, her voice cool and unwavering. “First, I’m pregnant. Second, Ambrose has always loved me. You can forget about him.”

Half a month ago, Hazel had been desperate to know Ambrose’s true feelings. But Hazel simply stepped around Scarlett’s pronouncements, her movements graceful and unhurried.

“Are you done? If you are, then leave,” she said. “From now on, if either you or Ambrose show up in front of me again, I’ll call the police immediately.”

Those stuck in the past were the ones haunted by it. Hazel’s career soared, her family was happy, her life full of promise; she didn’t have time for the past.

Scarlett, however, thought Hazel was mocking her. She stepped forward, blocking her path. “Stop pretending. I don’t believe for a second that you don’t care at all!”