Every word felt like a dagger, cutting deep and leaving scars that would never fully fade. For a moment, Hazel thought she had misheard, her mind struggling to grasp the weight of Ambrose's words. How could such cruel, venomous words come from the man she had loved for so long?
She lifted her gaze to find Ambrose standing, his body shielding Scarlett. That familiar protective stance was unbearable. It mirrored the past, when Scarlett's mother, Althea, had become mistress, pushing Hazel's mother, Gianna, aside and subjecting Hazel to endless cruelty. Zaccheus, Hazel's father, had turned a blind eye. Yet, it was always Ambrose, their neighbor, who rushed to her defense. He had always stood up for her, demanded justice, and offered comfort when the world seemed harsh. When Hazel doubted her worth, Ambrose would declare, "Hazel, you're the best person in the world. If they don't want you, I do! No matter what happens, I'll always stand by your side and protect you."
But years had passed, and those youthful promises had crumbled. Now, Ambrose's protectiveness was directed at Scarlett, the one who had caused Hazel so much pain. Hazel fought to hold herself together, but tears flowed uncontrollably. Her heart was a raw, aching wound, and no words came to defend herself.
Seeing her distress, Ambrose's expression faltered, his guilt evident as his eyes avoided hers, settling instead on her bleeding feet. "You're hurt?" Even after all these years, he couldn't fully harden his heart against her. He sighed softly, his words weighed down by regret. "Forget it. Let's just say tonight was all nonsense... from being drunk. From now on—"
"There won't be a 'from now on'," Hazel interrupted, her voice a whisper.
"What?"
Ambrose sensed a shift in her, something unexpected. But his mind was consumed by thoughts of Scarlett, leaving him no energy for Hazel. Just as he was about to speak, Scarlett's voice, shaking with sobs, pierced the air. "Sister, do you really hate me that much? Forcing me to go abroad wasn't enough; you want to drive me to my death, too? Fine, I'll die, so I don't burden Brother Ambrose anymore!"
Her words hit like a thunderclap. Before Hazel could respond, Scarlett ran toward the road. It was late; the streets were empty, but panic surged within Ambrose. He rushed after Scarlett, his only thought to reach her.
In his frenzy, he collided with Hazel, sending her crashing to the ground. The sharp gravel scraped against her bleeding skin, the sting almost unbearable. The blows to her body, the weight of everything, drained her completely. She couldn't even cry.
Ten years of love, gone, wasted. It had always been one-sided. A childhood sweetheart could never compete with an unexpected love; she couldn't compete with the woman Ambrose had held in his heart all along.
After what felt like an eternity, Hazel struggled to her feet, limping back to her room. Once inside, she tended to her bloodied feet, then, with one final glance, threw away the carefully selected wedding decorations she had once hoped would mark the start of forever. Her gaze fell on the wedding countdown. She hesitated, then, with a resigned sigh, ripped off the word "wedding," silently replacing it in her heart with a countdown to her departure.
There was so much to pack. The hours blurred as she worked through the night, only falling into a restless sleep at four in the morning. Barely three hours later, her phone rang shrilly.
"Hazel, are you awake? I ordered your favorite soup. I won't be back today. Let's push the wedding photoshoot to another day. There's an emergency at the company, and I really can't leave."
Hazel rubbed her aching temples, her voice hoarse. "Alright." Her quick agreement, and perhaps the sadness she couldn't hide, seemed to make Ambrose uneasy. His tone softened, as though uncertain of the growing distance between them.