Chapter 4

I froze, the cream still clutched in my grasp, and gazed at him. "Just myself? You're not joining?"

Zachary exhaled, his words tinged with remorse. "I'm overwhelmed with assignments. I truly can't escape this instance. Next occasion, I swear, alright?"

But Zachary, there won't be another chance.

I bowed my head and resumed applying the salve.

"It might be challenging for me to secure leave from my job."

"Don't fret. I'll take care of it for you."

I shook my head, attempting to resist, but he persisted.

"I don't wish to go," I stated decisively.

His voice turned authoritative, brooking no dissent. "Be agreeable. The passes are already secured, and they're non-refundable."

I remained silent, but a shiver ran through my core.

I recalled the previous evening, when, half-conscious, I overheard his phone conversation: "I don't intend to inform her. As long as I can conceal it, I shall."

There was a lull, then the voice on the line sighed. "And post-nuptials? What then? You're simply going to relegate her to mistress status?"

For an extended moment, Zachary was mute. I could almost perceive him expelling smoke, unhurried and weighty.

At last, after what seemed an eternity, he spoke. "We'll address that when the time arrives."

The ache in my chest was stifling. I lay there mutely, tears coursing down my cheeks, feeling as if the past seven years had been nothing but a cruel ruse.

Zachary, have I ever truly comprehended you?

If your affection had waned, why couldn't you just convey that? Why resort to falsehoods and subterfuge?

Were you so fearful I'd cling to you that you concocted this intricate scheme to dispatch me during your nuptials?

You needn't have gone to such lengths.

Don't worry, Zachary. I'll vanish from your existence, just as you desire.

"When's the flight?" I inquired.

"In two days," he answered.

I smiled faintly. "Very well, I'll go."

Relief washed over his visage, and he instinctively reached out to tousle my hair.

I leaned back slightly, evading his touch without creating a scene.

He paused momentarily, then chuckled as if nothing had transpired. "Let's dine together before your departure, alright?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

Tomorrow would mark seven years since we first united.

It seemed fitting, in a way, to conclude it on the same date it commenced—to bid farewell properly and close this chapter definitively.

The following evening, I arrived early at our agreed-upon eatery. Zachary appeared punctually—but not alone.

Aria accompanied him.

"Natalie," she trilled, her voice saccharine and artificial. "Mr. Stone and I were running errands nearby and thought we'd join. You don't mind, do you?"

I shook my head, but inwardly, I couldn't help feeling let down. So much for a proper farewell.

Zachary ordered an array of bland, mild dishes.

Aria giggled as she surveyed the food. "Mr. Stone, these dishes are far too insipid. They're probably not to Natalie's liking, are they?"

Zachary didn't even glance up. "You're menstruating. You shouldn't consume anything too piquant."

Then, as if to reinforce his point, he summoned the server and had Aria's chilled beverage replaced with a cup of warm ginger tea.

Aria pouted, playfully protesting that he was being too domineering.

Zachary extended his hand and gently tapped her forehead, a teasing smile on his lips. "If I don't look out for you, you'll end up lamenting about abdominal discomfort later."

Aria stuck out her tongue. "You're exaggerating. You just fret too much about me."

The pair flirted shamelessly, as if I were invisible.

I observed them with detached indifference, experiencing nothing but a serene, hollow emptiness.

Midway through the meal, someone suddenly yelled, "Fire!"

The restaurant erupted into pandemonium. People scrambled to their feet, rushing towards the exits.

I stood up, but before I could react, Zachary darted past me.

I turned just in time to witness him grabbing Aria, shielding her with his body as he hastily guided her towards the door.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to warp.

The scene before me blurred, supplanted by a memory from years past—an 18-year-old Zachary, throwing himself in harm's way to protect me in a similar moment of panic.

But that Zachary no longer existed.

By the time we reached safety, Zachary finally turned and noticed me standing a few paces away.

His face was etched with guilt and disbelief. "Natalie, I—I didn't mean to abandon you. I was just—" I interrupted him with a smile. "It's fine. I comprehend."

Two days later, I packed my belongings. I ensured there wasn't a single vestige of myself left in that house. Then, without a backward glance, I exited the door.

Naturally, I didn't actually board the flight Zachary had arranged.

Instead, I returned to my parents' residence to prepare for my wedding. After all, my grand day was imminent.

Zachary, meanwhile, was too preoccupied trying on tuxedos and selecting floral arrangements with Aria to notice my absence.

On my wedding day, I encountered my fiancé, Austin, for the first time.

My parents had done an exemplary job—he was even more appealing in person than in the photographs. Tall, fit, and classically handsome, he embodied the perfect gentleman.

The wedding procession was grandiose, with an impressive convoy of vehicles.

As we traversed the streets, our car passed another wedding convoy heading in the opposite direction.

Both sides halted briefly, as was customary, to exchange bouquets between the brides.

The car windows descended.

And that's when I saw him.

Zachary.

Our gazes met, and in that instant, shock and disbelief flooded his countenance.

His voice quavered as he choked out, "Natalie... how— how is it you?"