I grew up thinking Wilmer and I were meant to last forever. We were engaged at birth, never apart, not even for a single day.

But everything started to change the day the fire broke out. He had gone into the stables, and when the flames spread, the smoke nearly suffocated him. He would have burned alive if not for her… Madonna, a servant girl. She dragged him out, coughing and half-conscious, her arms blackened with soot. From then on, everything went wrong.

His father said; “If you want to marry Lucille, you must keep Madonna by your side until the favor is repaid.” And Wilmer agreed. For me. For our future. That is what he told me.

He even made some strange promise with Madonna, that if she was ever unhappy, he would rush to her side no matter what. At the time, I thought it was silly. How often could someone be unhappy? But I was wrong. With her, unhappiness seemed endless.

The first time she complained was on my birthday. She looked at me and said softly, almost sadly, “I’ve never had a party this grand.” And just like that, Wilmer turned to me.

“Lucille, please… let Madonna have the party. Just this once.”

I froze. It was my birthday. Mine. But I gave it away. I gave it away because he begged me, and because I thought if I said no, he’d be disappointed.

Later, I told him through tears, “Maybe we should just cancel the engagement.”

He panicked. He lit up the whole city with fireworks that night, tens of millions spent just to stop me from leaving. He dropped to his knees and whispered, “Everything I’m doing, Lucille, it’s so I can marry you sooner. Don’t doubt me.”

I believed him. I always believed him.

The second time, Madonna came to see our wedding house. She touched the walls, looked around with wide eyes, and said, “I’ve never seen a place so beautiful.”

Wilmer gave it to her. Just like that. He turned to me that night, pulling me close like it was nothing, and whispered, “I’ll get you another one, Lucille. A bigger one. Just wait for me a little longer.”

So I waited. And waited. I watched as he gave away our wedding house, our car, even the cats we had planned to raise together. Everything was taken from me and handed to her. And every time, he promised to replace it with something more.

By the one hundred nighty-ninth time, my heart was already threadbare. Still, I clung to hope. That day was supposed to be the last. The favor was finally repaid, and I sat outside the City Clerk’s Office all morning, waiting for him to come so we could finally get our marriage certificate.

But he never came. Instead, I saw the news that he had spent tens of millions on a red diamond. A perfect diamond. The kind that symbolizes “a gift for only one person in a lifetime.” And he gave it to her. Madonna.

My chest went cold. I picked up the phone and called him with shaking fingers.

“W-wilmer, let's not get married.”

He laughed. “Lucille, you’re throwing another tantrum? Threatening me again?” Then he lowered his voice like he always did when she was near, teasing her. “Be good, Lucille. I’ll come back to you after I’ve repaid her.”

Those words.

Again.

Always those words. I’d heard them for five damn years, and I had swallowed them every single time.

This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I just hung up. Calmly.

He thought I was still sulking. He then sent someone to deliver a bigger diamond to me, as if that would fix everything. He thought I was jealous. He thought I was petty. He thought I would wait again.

But what he didn’t know was that this was my last chance.

When I got home, I called my aunt in France. “I’ve decided already. I agree with the marriage you mentioned last time.”

I could hear her crying on the other end. She kept saying thank you, over and over. She was so happy, so relieved.

And I sat there, phone pressed to my ear, smiling a little even though my heart felt like ashes.

Because for once, I wasn’t waiting anymore.

After I hung up the phone, I sat on the floor of my room and stared at everything Wilmer had ever given me. For a long time, I just sat there, not moving, until my hands reached for the music box he once ordered just for me when we were little. Back then, I thought it was the most magical thing in the world. Then I pulled out the sweater he knitted for me in middle school. I still remember his clumsy stitches, how proud he was when he tugged it over my shoulders. And then there was the ring, the one he gave me when he first proposed. I used to hold it close to my chest, dreaming of the day we’d finally walk into the City Clerk’s Office together.

But mixed in with those gifts were all the things he gave me only because of Madonna. The diamonds, the purses, the shoes—gifts meant to soothe me after he had already given something precious of ours to her. At first, I treasured them, but tonight I packed every single thing into boxes.

These were once my most precious memories, but not anymore. I didn’t want them. I didn’t want any of it.

By midnight, everything was taped up and ready. I told my assistant to deliver the boxes straight to Wilmer. After that, I opened the cabinet, reached inside, and pulled out the signet ring. The token. The thing that had always symbolized our two families’ bond. My hands trembled, but I held it tightly as I drove to the apartment that was supposed to be our wedding home.

The code on the door was still the same. His birthday, then mine. My chest hurt when I pressed the buttons, but I went in anyway.

The sound of the lock startled him. He came out of the bedroom, his eyes wide when he saw me. “Lucy?” He looked almost relieved, his lips curving into a smile. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me. Do you not like the diamond? If you don’t, I’ll buy you something else. And… yesterday wasn’t the right date. I already asked someone to pick a new one for the certificate.”

I didn’t answer his excuses. I just looked at him and pointed to the boxes I had pushed inside. “I came to return something.”

His smile faltered. His brows pulled together like he was annoyed. Before he could say anything, I heard footsteps. Light, quick, and careless.

Madonna came running down from upstairs barefoot. She clung to his waist without hesitation.

My whole body went cold.

My eyes caught the shirt she was wearing, and my stomach twisted. That shirt… it was the one I bought him on our first anniversary. I had nothing then just scraps of savings from skipping meals and pawning my mother’s necklace. When I placed it in his hands, he broke down. He kissed my forehead and swore that I should never bleed for him again, swore he’d protect me from every hardship life could throw our way. For years, he kept that shirt folded away like a relic, something too precious to be worn.

And now she was wearing it. Smiling. Holding him.

She looked at me as if she had just noticed I was there, then pressed her cheek to his back, pretending to be shy. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was here? Look at me, I must look ridiculous.”

Wilmer frowned and tried to loosen her grip, but she only held on tighter. And the pride in her eyes when she looked at me… she wasn’t even hiding it.

I forced myself to look away. “I’m just here to return things. If it’s convenient, please give me the token back.”

I held out the signet ring to him. The symbol of everything I thought would last.

He hesitated, and for a moment I thought he might finally drop the act. But instead, he tightened his grip on her hand and sneered. “Do you think I’m free right now?”

The air in my lungs felt too heavy to breathe. I gripped the box tighter, trying to stop the trembling. I had told myself I was ready to walk away, but seeing this still cracked something deep inside me.

I remembered the first time we fought because of her. He had fallen on his knees back then, swearing that everything he did was just to repay a debt, that it was only temporary, that he was only delaying our wedding so he could marry me sooner.

But Madonna’s debt never ended. It grew and grew until it swallowed everything I was supposed to have with him.

Tonight, the last snowflake fell, and the avalanche finally broke free.

And I could finally let go.

I placed the signet ring down on the table, forcing my hand not to shake. “Then when it’s convenient for you, just have someone deliver it to me.”

I had planned to talk seriously, to finally say the words let’s end this, but then I saw Madonna’s nails clutching at his shirt, clinging to him like she owned him, and I saw his body stiffen under her touch. My stomach twisted so violently I thought I might throw up. I couldn’t stand there any longer. I turned and started walking out.

“Wait.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the room. I froze.

“Are you really going to break off the engagement with me?” His tone was dark, like a warning.

I turned my head just slightly, enough so he could hear me clearly. “Yes.”

I caught the curve of his lips, that mocking little sneer. He stepped forward suddenly and kicked the boxes stacked against the wall, “If you’re breaking off the engagement, then what are you keeping this trash for?”

He was staring at me, waiting. Waiting for me to crumble, waiting for me to cry like I had so many times before.

But I didn’t. “You’re right. There’s no need to keep them. If they bother you, throw them away yourself.”

His fists tightened so hard I heard his knuckles crack. “Why would I touch your things? Take them all away yourself, so you don’t have an excuse to come crawling back, pretending you forgot something.”

“Okay…”

I walked into the bedroom, numb, and started gathering every little piece of myself from the room. This was supposed to be our wedding room. Every shelf, every drawer, every corner held memories we had built together since we were children. Now I was erasing myself, piece by piece.

When my eyes fell on the red bedsheet, wrinkled and stained, my stomach lurched. I covered my mouth, choking back the bile. That sheet… it was proof. Proof of what they had done here. Proof of his betrayal.

My tears fall but I swallowed hard, and forced myself to calm.

From the living room, I heard them. Giggling. Laughing like some lovers… They wanted me to hear. They wanted to break me.

I kept my face blank, kept folding, and kept packing. When everything of mine was gone, I closed the bedroom door gently.

Just as it clicked shut, his voice reached me again. “Lucille. You once promised me you’d do something for me unconditionally. Does that still count?”

My heart stopped for a moment. My mind flew back to the summer after the college exams. A sudden storm had swollen the river near our town, and I had tried to cross it, thinking I could make it to the other side. The current nearly dragged me under. He had jumped in without a second thought, grabbing me with one arm while the other tore against jagged rocks. Blood had run freely, but he had smiled through the pain so I wouldn’t feel guilty.

I had promised then, with tears in my eyes, that I’d do something for him one day, anything he asked, no questions.

Back then he had said, All I want is for Lucy to be happy for the rest of her life.

I had laughed and told him to pick something for himself. But he had just smiled and said, As long as you’re with me, I don’t need anything else.

And now here he was. Looking at me while kissing her forehead softly. “Maddie wants cherry cake from the Sun Valley. Go buy them.”

I stared at him. I stared so hard I thought I’d burn a hole through him. Then I whispered, “Alright.”

Even this wish, this one favor I owed him—it was for her. Always her.

That was fine. That way, there would be nothing left between us.

When I stepped outside, the New York sky had opened up. Snow was falling fast, thick flakes sticking to my hair and lashes. I gritted my teeth, climbed into the car, and drive.

My driving had never been strong, and with the streets slick and the snow coming down harder every block, I almost crashed more than once.

I finally bought the cherry cake after slipping on the icy sidewalks more times than I could count. My fingers were numb from the cold, and I could barely feel the box in my hands. When I handed it over, Madonna took one bite, scrunched her face, and spat it into a napkin.

“It’s cold. It tastes so bad!” she whined.

Wilmer didn’t say a word. He just brushed the whole box into the trash then bent down to scoop her up in his arms. “Come on, I’ll take you to the restaurant to eat.”

I stood there quietly, holding myself together, when he glanced back at me, impatience written all over his face. “Why are you just standing there? Get in the car.”

I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. I slid into the back seat, pressed my head against the cold glass, and tried to shut everything out.

The whole ride, Madonna giggled and leaned against him, whispering things in his ear, and he let her. My head was heavy, the noise of their laughter dull in my ears. I thought if I closed my eyes long enough, maybe I could pretend none of this was real.

Then suddenly, headlights blinded us. A car from the opposite lane spun out on the ice and came skidding straight toward us.

Wilmer didn’t hesitate. He turned the wheel, swerving hard, and the world seemed to tilt sideways. The moment before impact, he threw himself over Madonna, holding her close beneath him.

The crash rang in my ears like thunder. My body slammed against the seat, pain shooting through me. I saw blood dripping down his forehead, but all I could really see was him. Him holding her. Him protecting her.

My lips trembled, and the world went dark.

.....

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A stranger told me they had found me unconscious and brought me here. I stayed there for a week. Not once did Wilmer show up.

But every day, I saw Madonna’s posts. Photos of him at her bedside, holding her hand, feeding her soup. Her words cut sharper than the pain in my body.

“I didn’t expect that between life and death, he would choose me.”

“He wanted to see you, but I said I had a headache, so he stayed.”

“Lucille, I will make sure I’m the only one in his heart.”

I blocked her. I blocked him too.

Before, I thought maybe we could part peacefully, still carry some piece of the love we once had. But after this, I knew. I never wanted to see him again. Not even once in this lifetime.

The day after I was discharged, it was his mother’s birthday. I wanted to stay away, to cut every tie with the Prestons, but his mother kept calling. She begged me to come, even said if I didn’t, she wouldn’t celebrate at all.

She has always been good to me. After my parents died, she treated me like her own daughter. I couldn’t ignore her, not when she was the only warmth I had left in that house. And besides, if I was going to end this engagement, I had to say it in front of her and his father. They deserved to hear it from me.

So I agreed.

His mother loved big, lively occasions. By the time I arrived, her birthday party was already grand and noisy, lights glittering, laughter spilling through the house like nothing had ever broken in it.

The second I stepped into the Preston manor, the sight hit me like a slap. Madonna was holding Wilmer’s arm, steadying him as if he could not walk on his own. His voice was sharp, cutting through the hum of the party.

Then Madonna strode her way to me.

“Look at yourself. You nearly got yourself killed just to protect me.”

My stomach tightened. Before I could even move away, Madonna turned her gaze on me, her lips twisting into a smile I had seen too many times.

“Wilmer’s mum is so on your side, you must feel very proud,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery.

I frowned and tried to pull my arm free, but she clung tighter, her nails biting into my skin.

“She is only on your side because of your mother. If we’re being honest, your parents were short-lived, weren’t they? They’re gone. How long do you think that friendship can last? Once I secure Wilmer, do you really think she would go against her own son just for you?”

Something in me snapped. My parents were the one place no one was allowed to touch. Before I even thought about it, my hand came down hard across her face. The sound cracked through the air.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she staggered back. She covered her cheek and ran straight into Wilmer’s arms, sobbing.

“I only told her not to stay angry at you,” she wailed, “but she said I should not care at all. That you are nothing in her eyes.”

Wilmer’s face darkened instantly. He looked at me like I was a stranger.

“LUCILLE. APOLOGIZE.”

I let out a bitter laugh. The man who used to protect me at all costs now stood shielded around someone else. I stared at them both, then turned to leave. I wanted no part in their twisted little play.

But Wilmer’s hand clamped onto my wrist so tightly it felt like my bones might break. His grip hurt, but what hurt more was his silence, the way he stood there believing her.

I raised my eyes to him and forced each word out. “I hit her because she called my parents short-lived. And as for you, she is right. Someone who sides with her without even asking the truth is nothing to me.”

I pried his fingers off one by one, refusing to let him cage me in, and walked away.