Yesha cheerfully skipped over, her voice bright as she spoke.

"Sis, I’m your bridesmaid. We’ll make our grand entrance at the wedding, and everyone will see how stunning our Foster family’s daughter is!"

Connor lovingly ruffled Yesha's hair.

Primo smiled, too, watching the father and daughter with affection.

But Asteria couldn’t take her eyes off the wedding dress laid out before her.

Its yellowed fabric, cheap to the touch, and the large tear at the chest screamed of neglect and carelessness.

Yesha’s bridesmaid dress was a delicate lace mermaid design that perfectly hugged her figure, making her look more like a bride than Asteria.

She twirled around, her smile gleaming with excitement.

"It’s so perfect! If I had a crown, it would be the finishing touch!"

Primo didn’t hesitate, smiling, "That’s easy. Asteria has one; she’s the older sister and won’t mind sharing with her younger sister…"

His gaze shifted to Asteria, noticing the torn wedding dress she held.

"What happened here?" Asteria glanced at Yesha, and Primo quickly moved to shield her.

"It’s just a mistake from the shop staff; it has nothing to do with Yesha. I’ll have someone fix it right away."

Yesha pretended to show concern, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "But the bridal shop is closed now... Maybe we should just find a second-hand dress for you to wear, just for now? After all, you did say you wanted a simple wedding."

The room fell silent as everyone turned their gaze to Asteria.

Primo followed up; his voice was casual but firm. "Yesha makes a fair point. Asteria, don’t be too stubborn."

With the power of the Chromos family, getting a new wedding dress would’ve been easy.

But they didn’t feel Asteria deserved that kind of attention.

Rather than making a fuss, they figured it was easier to let her be, accustomed as she was to be the one to suffer.

Asteria smiled faintly. "It’s fine. I don’t want to be a bother. You all have your things to do. I’ll take care of it."

With Asteria’s smile, the tense atmosphere seemed to dissolve instantly.

The conversation resumed, coffee cups clinking and laughter filling the air. At the same time, no one seemed to notice the silent weight of Asteria’s frustrations.

Primo knew how much the wedding mattered to Asteria, and he feared she might linger on the issue.

To ease the tension, he handed her a bank card.

"Don’t worry about the cost. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters."

Asteria paused, then reluctantly took the card, offering a quiet "thank you."

That simple thank you seemed to widen the invisible gap between them.

Primo shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next.

Yesha watched Asteria for a beat before heading to the bedroom to fetch a camera.

"It’s not often we’re all together. Let’s take a family photo now, before the wedding tomorrow. It’ll be too chaotic then, and the pictures won’t do justice."

Primo immediately agreed, pulling Asteria’s hand and guiding them to the center.

Just as the shutter clicked, Yesha stepped in front of Asteria. Before Asteria could react, she stumbled and lost her balance.

"Asteria!"

Primo was startled, his instincts kicking in as he reached to catch her.

But at that moment, Yesha began crying, her sobs filling the room.

Primo hesitated for a brief three seconds, the weight of the situation pulling at him. Yet, ultimately, he chose Yesha, his arms moving toward her while Asteria crashed into the nearby rack.

Primo gently pulled Yesha aside, his hands soothingly brushing away the tears that stained her cheeks.

"Don’t cry. Your sister understands; she won’t hold this against you."

The others gathered quickly, their voices concerned, pointing to the camera as they tried to lift Yesha’s spirits.

Meanwhile, Asteria could only struggle to rise on her own.

A warm trickle ran down her face, and she couldn’t tell if it was tears or blood.

As she wiped it with a tissue, a streak of bright red appeared, staining the fabric.

But no one seemed to notice. All attention remained on Yesha.

It wasn’t until the blood on Asteria’s forehead had finally stopped that Primo came over with the camera, looking down at her.

"The photo didn’t capture your face, and Yesha’s pose doesn’t look quite right. Should we retake it... Asteria, what happened to your face?"

Her forehead bled, but their primary concern was how unflattering Yesha’s pose appeared in the photo.

Asteria shrugged nonchalantly. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about the photo. It’s getting late; I’ll head home now."

What did it matter anymore?

The thought of capturing one more smile for the camera had already faded from her mind.

When Asteria made a move to leave, Yesha was quick to follow, her voice full of desperation.

"Sis, don’t be angry. It’s my fault. I’m so hopeless that I can’t do anything right. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise!"

"I’ll go out and search for a new wedding dress for you; I’ll cover the whole city if I have to, just to see you smile!"

With those words, Yesha rushed out, crying as if her heart had been torn to pieces, making Asteria feel even more guilty.

Primo, his patience thinning, snapped, "Asteria, what exactly did Yesha do to upset you? Why are you constantly causing her trouble? I’ve really misjudged you."

Primo didn’t spare Asteria another glance as he hurried to catch up with Yesha.

Asteria’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure, and a faint whisper escaped her lips. "Who exactly misjudged who?"

Her question hung in the air, unanswered and ignored.

Everyone always found fault in Asteria, blaming her for failing to care for her younger sister.

This was a scene she had endured countless times before, so familiar that she had grown numb to it.

Her eyes drifted to the clock ticking softly on the wall.

In just 24 hours, she would be gone.

There was no point in wasting her breath.

She brushed past Connor with the torn wedding dress clutched in her hands, walking out of the Foster family’s old house without sparing a glance behind her.

Tomorrow, it would all be over.

When she returned to the villa, once decorated with festive charm, the bridal room now felt as lifeless as a forgotten model home. Its cheerful aura had been replaced by the chaos she’d created.

The wedding dress landed in a heap by the door as Asteria pulled out her suitcase, methodically packing away the last of her belongings.

She had known Primo for far too long—long enough that their shared memories had seeped into almost everything around her.

But memories held no value now. She left behind everything but the essentials, unwilling to carry the weight of their past into her future.

She knew Primo wouldn’t be coming back tonight, so she searched through their belongings without hesitation.

Deep in the safe, she stumbled upon a diary. Its faded pages carried Primo’s thoughts from eight years ago.

Reading it now, each word felt like a dagger, reopening wounds she thought had long scarred over.

Eight years ago, Primo, desperate to break free from the shadow of his "second-generation heir" identity, ventured out alone to build his own empire. Yet, his ambitions were betrayed, leaving him teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.

In the bleakest chapter of his life, he had crossed paths with Yesha at a modest youth hostel, a chance meeting that seemed to anchor him in a storm of misfortune.

Asteria stared at the diary, her fingers trembling as she turned the page. She yearned to uncover the truth, the story of what had unfolded between Primo and Yesha during those turbulent years that bound him to her even now.