Hazel sat quietly beside him, her laptop open as she transferred surveillance footage onto a USB drive. She had a surprise planned, something impactful, before she left.

Halfway through the transfer, Ambrose looked up, his gaze sweeping the house. “Why does it feel so empty? Didn’t you decorate?”

“You told me to keep things simple.”

Hazel wasn't concerned. She knew Ambrose's attention rarely strayed from Scarlett.

However, his gaze lingered on the countdown calendar in the living room. He chuckled softly. “Time flies, huh? Only seven days until our wedding.”

Hazel stood and walked to the calendar. With a swift movement, she tore off two pages.

“Our wedding is in five days.”

The pages she tore off bore written wishes: “Ride a Ferris wheel together” and “Watch the stars together”—things Ambrose had already shared with Scarlett.

A strange pang, like a fleeting shadow of something missed, tugged at Ambrose's heart. He started to speak, but Hazel's phone buzzed, interrupting the moment.

Noticing her mother's name, Hazel excused herself to the balcony. When she returned, Ambrose was engrossed in his phone.

12:23 PM

“Who called? I thought I heard something about a visa,” he asked casually, barely looking up.

“Nothing important—just work,” Hazel replied, her tone light.

Ambrose exhaled. “Good. Don't go planning any honeymoon trips. I won't have the time.”

“I know,” she said softly.

Since Scarlett's return, Ambrose couldn't bear to be away from her, even for a moment. He clearly had no time or space for anyone else.

They sat in strained silence, the tension thickening. Ambrose shifted uncomfortably, an inexplicable unease settling in his stomach.

Hazel had always possessed a quiet grace, a sensibility born of necessity. Unlike other girls, she never indulged in tantrums or whims.

But Ambrose knew her calm was a mask, a defense honed over years. Beneath it, Hazel was a fragile, love-starved girl, yearning for affection she rarely received.

In the past, she eagerly shared every detail of her day, rushing into his arms, her eyes alight with joy. She would chatter endlessly, oblivious to whether he listened.

Now, the quiet was deafening, unnatural, wrong. Ambrose set aside his phone, his gaze shifting to Hazel.

“You’ve worked so hard preparing for the wedding. Once this is all over…”

But Hazel cut him off, her tone steady. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze. “I’m not sure… I must’ve lost it.”

The memory returned unbidden. The night of their engagement, Scarlett had been upset by the ring. He'd removed it to calm her, setting it aside without a second thought.

Ambrose opened his mouth to explain, guilt flickering in his eyes, but Hazel interrupted almost dismissively. “If it’s lost, it’s lost. Just buy a new one.”

She didn't dwell on it. She knew the truth: once she left, Ambrose would replace it with a stunning diamond for Scarlett. This ring, their ring, was destined for the trash from the moment Scarlett returned.

Ambrose had grown used to Hazel's endless understanding, her boundless patience bordering on self-sacrifice. Yet, her indifference rattled him. He felt he'd lost something far more valuable than a ring.

The unease gnawed at him, relentless and unfamiliar. Determined to alleviate the weight on his chest, Ambrose resolved to make things right with Hazel.