17
In Austin, Miguel sat on the balcony, gloomily puffing on a cigarette.
Even with a face full of impatience, his profile still held a kind of effortless charm.
“Saoirse, you’ve changed lately.”
Ever since my “death,” their arguments had only grown more frequent.
Yesterday, it was over a multimillion-dollar deal Miguel refused to cancel just to go shopping.
The day before that, he wouldn’t let Saoirse wear the wedding dress at his house.
And the day before that. Bit by bit, Miguel began to miss my quiet understanding.
Saoirse didn’t reply. She simply stared at his’sharply defined profile, then curled her lips into a gentle smile.
“Miguel, no matter how I change, it’s only because I love you.”
Miguel frowned, unease tightening in his chest.
“But Belle was never like this…”
He muttered under his breath, unable to stop the flood of memories.
When we first met, I was still a naive student, my eyes clear and wide.
For him, I learned how to smile at cameras and sweet-talk executives.
To handle his chaotic schedule, I forced myself to be meticulous, even though I used to be so
careless.
had been like a candle, burning quietly, steadily, until there was nothing left of me.
My love was silent, a six-year offering of youth and devotion, all to light Miguel’s path to his
dreams.
And Saoirse? She was nothing but spoiled and willful.
Miguel let out a long breath and silently walked out of the room.
He returned to the villa that once echoed with memories of us.
But now, every trace of my presence had been wiped clean by Saoirse.
Suddenly, frustration surged within him. “Housekeeper! What exactly have you been doing? Why s everything of my wife’s gone?”
The housekeeper blinked, caught off guard. “Wasn’t that your order, sir?”
‘Me?” Miguel pointed to himself, utterly stunned. “When did I ever say to throw Belle’s things away?”
‘You said to follow Miss Saoirse’s instructions,” the housekeeper explained carefully. “Everything was done under her command.”
He fell silent, fists clenched until the housekeeper added cautiously, “And everyone thought you had a new girlfriend, so…”
“Ridiculous!”
Miguel slammed the table, the sharp crack making the housekeeper flinch.
He drew in a deep breath. “Put everything back.”
In the house where he had spent six years of his life, now eerily unfamiliar, Miguel stared into the silence, dazed.
His gaze slowly shifted to the kitchen. It was spotless. Too spotless.
On the refrigerator’s message board, my handwriting still lingered.
“May 16: Rosedale brand promotion.”
“May 19: Interview.”
In the corner, two small doodle cats were sketched.
One wore a tag labeled “Miguel.” The other, “Belle.”
Miguel sank onto the sofa, burying his face in a pillow.
Tears soaked through the fabric. For the first time, he stopped lying to himself; he couldn’t let m
He used to think it was normal in the industry. Celebrities had fans, some had flings, and others juggled lovers.
So what if he had two women?
But now, when the excitement faded, only one name still burned in his chest.
Mine.
He picked up his phone and typed slowly. [Saoirse, let’s call off the wedding.]
