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Chapter 4
It was 4 AM before Fiona finally finished sorting through the scattered remnants of her dreams. There were just too many pieces to put away.
She’d barely managed three hours of sleep when her phone’s sharp ring jolted her
awake.
“Fiona, are you up? I ordered your favorite soup dumplings for breakfast. Listen, I won’t be coming home today. We’ll have to reschedule the wedding photo shoot – there’s an emergency at the company that I can’t step away from.”
Fiona massaged her throbbing temples and managed a hollow “Okay.”
Perhaps she agreed too quickly, or maybe her voice carried too much sadness, because Quentin’s tone softened with an edge of unease.
“About yesterday don’t take it to heart. I’ve already apologized to Daisy on your behalf.”
“Mm–hmm.”
“Daisy says the wedding is just for show anyway. We don’t need to make a big deal of it. Our love is strong enough without all the external validation, so let’s just keep everything simple.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
In her heart, Fiona had already made her decision.
This wedding would go down in history as the simplest ceremony ever.
No wedding photos.
No marriage certificate.
No officiant.
And no bride.
After hanging up, Fiona got out of bed and grabbed a thick black marker. She crossed out “Wedding Photo Shoot” from her wish calendar with decisive strokes. Quentin’s work had always kept him busy, and Fiona had never wanted to burden him with trivial matters. That’s why she’d bought this special calendar when she started planning their wedding. She’d filled it with everything she’d dreamed of doing over the years, hoping to fulfill all her wishes in one magical celebration of
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their marriage.
Now those wishes, destined to remain dreams, disappeared beneath thick black.
lines.
Another regret to bury in her heart.
Fiona let out a soft sigh as she looked around the room. Everything was draped in wedding decorations – all the carefully chosen details she’d selected with such hope.
She spent the entire day dismantling the wedding preparations she’d so lovingly arranged.
As evening fell, she spotted Quentin’s face trending on instagram:
“ROMANCE ISN’T DEAD: Business tycoon Mr. Sherwood drops $8 million on antique
pearl brooch to make his lady love smile!”
The photo was blurry, and everyone assumed the woman beside him was Fiona. She couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.
So that’s where the money they’d “saved” on the wedding had gone.
But it didn’t matter anymore. Fiona refused to let Quentin’s actions hurt her any
longer.
For the next few days, Quentin didn’t come home.
Unlike before, Fiona didn’t text to check his whereabouts or make sure everything
in his life ran smoothly.
She submitted her resignation letter and said goodbye to the few colleagues she’d grown close to over the years. The finality of it hit harder than she’d expected. Over the next few days, she reached out one by one to her friends, breaking the
news about her impending departure overseas. The messages felt heavy as she typed them, each one making her decision more real.
Her friends exchanged knowing looks before collectively letting out resigned sighs. “We kind of saw this coming,” one of them admitted softly.
One friend pulled up Quentin’s instagram profile and handed her phone to Fiona. “People who don’t know you both might think these photos are of you, but we can
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all tell it’s Daisy in them.”
The revelation hit Fiona like a punch to the gut. All this time, Quentin had been with Daisy. Quentin, who never posted anything online, had suddenly become a instagram butterfly, sharing multiple posts a day.
There they were, documented in perfect digital clarity: Their trip to the amusement park “to clear their minds.” Their visit to the bridal boutique to try on wedding attire. Their romantic expedition to the mountaintop to stargaze under the vast canopy of stars.
Quentin’s love for Daisy was splashed across every post, every photo, every caption – a digital declaration of devotion. And through it all, he had deliberately hidden everything from Fiona’s view.
Her friends watched her carefully, concern etched on their faces as she remained
silent.
“Fiona, are you okay?” one ventured carefully.
“Don’t waste your tears on someone like him,” another friend burst out. “Quentin doesn’t deserve your love. When he finally sees Daisy’s true colors, he’ll regret this
so much he’ll be sick to his stomach.”
Fiona managed a small smile, turning her gaze to the bustling street outside the window. The world kept moving, even when it felt like hers had stopped.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “I’ve stopped caring. But there is something I need to
ask of you all…”
In just a few days, she would leave this place behind forever. She didn’t have the
time or energy to waste on grieving over Quentin anymore.
So when Quentin finally showed up at her door after being MIA for days, Fiona
didn’t even flinch. Her heart, once so quick to race at his presence, remained still. Some doors, once closed, were better left that way.
