Chapter 4

(Cassie's Perspective)

Violet chuckled as she flaunted an extravagant bracelet with a flick of her wrist.

"Isn't it stunning?" she exclaimed, twisting her arm for everyone to see.

The cluster of ladies around her burst into excited whispers, their eyes gleaming with interest.

"You're so fortunate," one of them remarked admiringly. "Everything about you exudes sophistication."

Violet smiled coyly.

"Max and Violet truly are a striking couple," someone murmured.

"I always knew they'd end up together," another whispered.

Their chatter ceased abruptly when they spotted me lingering at the group's edge.

I simply smiled and wordlessly turned away, my heels tapping against the polished floor as I left.

But Violet wasn't finished.

"Cassie," she called out, pursuing me into a less crowded corridor. Her voice was airy.

I halted, facing her.

"You know," Violet said with a soft giggle, "I'm not trying to make you envious." She leaned in, her crimson lips curling into a smug grin. "I'm going on a date tonight. My boyfriend actually dedicates time to me - something you probably can't relate to, right?"

I cocked my head slightly, observing her. For a moment, I felt nothing but a faint twinge where anger or hurt once resided.

"That's wonderful, Violet," I replied calmly. "I hope you enjoy your evening."

Her smile wavered, just a bit, as if she'd anticipated a stronger reaction.

Without waiting for her response, I walked away. Let her have her moment, I thought to myself.

As I rejoined the party, the lively laughter and clinking glasses seemed to ease the ache in my chest. I donned a fake smile and navigated through the crowd towards Max, who was standing among his friends, effortlessly charming everyone.

When our eyes met, his expression softened.

"Cassie, are you alright?" he inquired, concern in his tone as he moved closer.

"I'm not feeling well," I muttered, lowering my gaze.

Without hesitation, Max addressed the room. "I apologize, everyone, but we'll need to end the evening early. Cassie isn't feeling her best, and I want to take her home."

The guests offered polite sympathies, some even wishing me a quick recovery. Briefly, I felt a glimmer of warmth towards Max. Perhaps he still cared, in his own way.

As we headed outside, the crisp night air caressed my skin. Max gently placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the car.

"Do you have work tonight?" I asked softly, the question escaping before I could stop myself.

Max paused, just for a split second, but it was enough for me to notice. "Of course not," he replied quickly, flashing me a reassuring smile. "I'm going to make time for you tonight, Cassie."

His words surprised me, but I nodded anyway.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Max retrieved it from his pocket, his face unreadable as he read the message.

"Cassie, I—" He said, looking up at me. "It's work. I have to handle this. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before I could respond, he turned and walked away. He got into his car and left me there.

I scanned the area for a taxi, but none appeared. I wrapped my coat tighter and began the 15 km trek home, my heart heavy with disappointment.

I finally arrived home, my entire body aching as I unlocked the door and entered. Exhaustion enveloped me like a thick blanket, but sleep was far from my mind.

Instead, I opened the small wooden chest tucked in the corner of our bedroom. It contained handcrafted gifts Max had given me over the past decade.

My fingers traced the rough edges of a necklace he had made during one of our early vacations.

Max had promised to return early. That promise, like many others, had been broken. It wasn't until three in the morning that I heard his car in the driveway.

The door creaked open, and he stumbled in, his tie loose, then he tousled his hair to make it seem like he'd been around all night.

I watched from the shadows as he removed his dress shirt and collapsed onto the bed. His arms reached out instinctively, pulling a pillow close.

"Cassie…" he murmured, his voice filled with surprise as his arms embraced the pillow, mistaking it for me.

A dry, sarcastic laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Max froze. His head snapped up. Flustered, his bleary eyes darted around until they landed on me, sitting calmly on the couch.

"Cassie? Why are you still up?" He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Didn't I tell you not to wait up for me?"

I smiled faintly, rising from the couch and walking over to switch on the lights. The warm glow filled the room.

"I was awake for you," I said simply, gesturing toward the table.

Max's gaze followed my hand, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"These," I said, indicating the handcrafted gifts. "Do you remember them? You made all of these for me. Back when you didn't need a reason to make me smile."

His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. His fingers brushed over the clay vase, the scrapbook, the handwritten notes tied with ribbon.

"I can't believe you kept all of this," he murmured, his voice low. A nostalgic smile tugged at his lips. "I made these so long ago. I thought you would've discarded them by now."

I laughed, a soft, hollow sound. "Why would I? Since you became the president you've always showered me with expensive gifts but these were the most precious gifts you ever gave me. They meant everything."

His grin faltered, his gaze flicking back to the table. He was stunned for a moment and became nostalgic, "I remember when I made them for you to smile back then." He said as his face lit up in remembrance.

Max chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Cassie, those were just silly little things. Look at what I give you now - jewelry, designer clothes, everything you could ever want. Surely, these don't compare."

I smiled at him, but it didn't reach my eyes. "You're right, Max," I said softly. "They don't compare."

I thought to myself, "It's time to throw them away forever. Just like the feelings I had for him."