Chapter 10
He stumbled into the living room, desperate for a glass of water.
In his distraction, his foot caught on the edge of the sofa, sending him crashing. into the cabinet. The impact made him wince.
“So this is what real pain feels like…” Quentin muttered, one hand pressed against his forehead while the other fumbled for the light switch.
Just like during the day, the house was a disaster zone. Broken items littered the floor, and Quentin noticed several cuts on his ankles from the debris. Hist frustration mounted as he searched frantically for the first aid kit, but it was
nowhere to be found.
Before all this, Fiona had always taken care of these things.
No matter how late it got, she would always leave a small lamp on for him.
Like a magician, she would produce his favorite meals out of nowhere.
She would keep the house spotless, exactly the way he liked it.
And whenever he got hurt, she would tend to his wounds with infinite patience. For a moment, Quentin could almost hear Fiona’s gentle voice: “Let me kiss it better!” The memory was so vivid he could almost see her there, eyes crinkled with
affection as she smiled at him.
The harsh ring of his phone shattered the illusion.
He glared at the caller ID: Daisy.
After a moment’s hesitation, he answered.
“Quentin, what if something happens to Fiona? This is all my fault…” Daisy’s voice.
broke with tears.
In the past, hearing Daisy cry would have sent him rushing to comfort her, dropping everything else. But now, her sobs just grated on his nerves. Suddenly, a thought crystallized in his mind.
He had to find Fiona.
Whatever the cost, he needed to bring her back home.
Quentin hung up on Daisy’s sobs and began frantically searching for any traces. Fiona might have left behind.
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Her departure had been absolute – she’d taken nothing with her.
Everything remained: the teddy bear she couldn’t sleep without, her precious jade bracelet, their collection of matching rings, even the sweet, childish love letters they’d written growing up together.
All of it, along with their beautiful memories, had been destroyed in Fiona’s
rampage.
If it had been anyone else, this destruction might have been a tantrum.
Or maybe a cry for attention.
But not Fiona.
After growing up together, Quentin knew her better than anyone.
This was her silent rebellion.
The evidence of a heart turned to ashes.
Numbly, he began to clean up the room.
He stubbornly believed that if he restored everything exactly as it was, the mistress
of this house would return.
Until he found the wedding ring that had rolled beneath the bed.
In that moment, Quentin finally understood the brutal truth.
Fiona wasn’t coming back.
He had lost her–the girl who once looked at him as if he were her entire world. Meanwhile, on an airplane far away, Fiona finally found the peaceful sleep that had
eluded her for weeks.
Yet even in her dreams, Quentin’s presence haunted every corner of her mind. When they were seven, they had played pretend wedding in her backyard.
“I’m the groom,” little Quentin had declared, “and you’re the most beautifull bride
in the world.”
At eighteen, when they finally became a couple, Quentin had held her hands in his, making a solemn vow.
“Fiona, I swear, I’ll work hard and give you the biggest, most beautifull wedding anyone’s ever seen. You won’t just be the most beautiful bride–you’ll be the
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happiest woman in the world!”
That’s why this wedding had meant everything to her.
She couldn’t bear to let anyone else plan it; she wanted to pour her heart into
fulfilling that promise they’d made in their teenage years.
But childhood love had worn away under the steady erosion of time.
Young dreams had crumbled into regrets.
She and Quentin–their story would never reach its fairy tale ending.
When Fiona awoke, her headache had finally subsided.
Gazing out at the layers of clouds beyond the airplane window, a question drifted through her mind.
When exactly had things changed between her and Quentin?
Was it before Daisy appeared in their lives, or after?
Fiona couldn’t bring herself to find the answer–she was too afraid of what she
might discover.
Quentin had been woven into every fiber of her life, present in every memory she held dear.
No matter how determined one might be, letting go of someone so deeply embedded in your life is soul–crushing agony.
That’s why, even after landing, Fiona couldn’t summon the courage to turn on her phone.
As she stood there on foreign streets, feeling lost and untethered, a familiar voice.
cut through her thoughts.
“Fiona!”
