5#05

5

"I was assisting your betrothed with her bridal dress when I accidentally dislodged the largest gem..."

Her face was wet with tears as she spoke.

"I'm terribly sorry, Leslie. I'll do anything—even become your personal helper—just please don't force me to leave..."

Leslie emitted a mirthless chuckle. The same ploy, employed twice, wouldn't be effective again.

"Kiana, when did I ever mention making you leave?"

Denver purposefully moved forward, completely concealing Kiana behind him.

"Darling, you're being irrational." His voice was composed yet resolute. "This isn't like you at all."

Leslie gazed up, astonished. She couldn't fathom it—the man who had always protected and embraced her now stood opposing her for another person.

Pain, disillusionment, and fury all bubbled up inside her, stifling her words before they could emerge.

Meanwhile, Kiana persisted in her tear-filled act. In comparison, Leslie felt like an unfeeling marionette.

After an extended pause, Leslie finally uttered, "The bridal gown is yours. You're welcome to stay in this house as long as you desire."

After all, in a mere fortnight, she would vanish from this place forever.

Without another utterance, she turned and ascended the stairs while Denver guided the weeping Kiana back to the guest quarters.

Well into the night, Leslie could still detect the faint sounds of Kiana's sobs and Denver's soothing words of solace.

Unable to resist, Leslie peered through the door's slim gap. Inside, Kiana clung to Denver's midsection, her voice delicate and melodious. "Denver, I truly envy Leslie... Actually, I..."

"I understand." Denver cut her off, his tone gentle.

"Kiana, as long as I breathe, I'll never allow you to feel pain again. Whatever you desire, I'll make it a reality. The only thing I can't do is wed you. Everything else, you can have. Trust me, alright?"

It felt as if an unseen hand seized Leslie's heart and wrenched it. The ache, acute and profound, reminded her that she wasn't as desensitized as she wished to believe.

She always portrayed herself as composed and determined. But Denver—he was the sole individual who could shatter her facade with precision.

Under the shower, the water rinsed away her tears, along with recollections she wished would dissipate.

The man who once had eyes only for her was gone.

What remained was this "sibling," eager to lay the entire world at Kiana's feet.

The following morning, as soon as Denver departed for work, Leslie systematically began packing.

Four years of cohabitation had filled every nook of the villa with her possessions. Each item harbored a memory of Denver.

She crammed everything into large cardboard containers and discarded them in the neighborhood waste bins.

When Denver returned in the evening, he was startled to see their bedroom half-vacant.

"Why does it seem like half our belongings are missing?"

Leslie replied nonchalantly, "Creating space for the new resident."

Denver pondered for a moment, then grinned.

"That's sensible. Once we have children, we'll definitely require more room."

Observing the subtle excitement on his face, Leslie found it amusing—in a tragic way.

'Denver, Denver... I don't even want you anymore. What makes you think I'd bear your offspring?'

He encircled her waist from behind, his lips grazing her neck.

Leslie tensed, ready to pull away, but right on cue, Kiana materialized in the doorway.

"Denver, Leslie, the meal is prepared."

Denver promptly released her, smiling as he followed Kiana downstairs.

When Leslie joined them at the table, she noticed a bowl of golden Lobster Newberg placed before her seat.