Chapter 12
After all, when he said he’d pick Claire up at nine o‘ clock yesterday, she had agreed.
So he called her name, but there was no response.
The morning sun had already poured in, but it made it feel emptier instead of brightening the room.
Suddenly, he noticed the photo wall in the living room–completely bare. It felt like the house had lost all traces of Claire‘ s
presence.
‘No, maybe she had packed everything away. She often tidied up the house every so often. Perhaps she moved everything. somewhere else.”
Vincent kept reassuring himself. But he couldn’t shake the feeling as he quickly walked to the bedroom. Inside the
wardrobe, only his clothes were left. In the drawers, only his identification and
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documents remained. Even the bedsheets were newly changed, smelling of laundry detergent, but no trace of her scent lingered. The study room was the same. On the desk, there was only a yellowed diary of Claire.
Vincent flipped through the pages and his heart sank a little more with each turn. The diary chronicled every detail of their meeting, growing affection and love.
But now, every word felt like a sharp blade stabbing into his heart, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Memories flashed through his mind. They had once shared a beautiful youth and an enviable love. They were both orphans, supporting each other, saving each other and walking through life together for eight years. They almost got married, too.
The last page of the diary was written in fresh handwriting:
[Vincent, this is where we end.]
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The date of the inscription that fell was today‘ s.
Vincent’s eyes moved to the wedding dress hanging on the wall. Scissors had slashed its bodice and the cut reached the skirt. He felt his nose tingle and warmth rose in his eyes.
He gripped his palm tightly, forcing himself to calm down. But he didn’t notice that the hand he used to dial the number was still trembling.
“Claire Olivia, pick up the phone. Please, pick up the phone.”
His voice cracked with a sob. But on the other end, it seemed the familiar voice would never come again. He tried to find traces of her existence in the house filled with their memories, but his eyes landed on the calendar on the dining table.
It had once counted down two days, but now it was a blank page with the words:
[Vincent, I won’t marry you. I wish you
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and Zoe happiness.]
It felt like suddenly falling into an ice–cold pit. The chill started from his feet and slowly crept up, like a massive net tightening around him, choking him and making breathing hard.
Just then, suddenly, the phone rang.
It was as though he had found a lifeline and he scrambled to grab it in panic.
‘It had to be Claire. It would definitely be Claire Olivia.‘
But to his disappointment, the name flashing on the screen was “Zoe.”
“Vincent, has your wife picked up? We‘ re all waiting up here in the mountains. Is she still mad at me? Is she not coming?”
For some reason, when he thought about Claire’s last words, I wish you and Zoe happiness, he felt he was about to lose control.
She still cared. She always had. She only
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pretended not to care because she was preparing to leave.
She was too disappointed in him and in the end, she wouldn’t longer argue with him. She watched him hurt her, watching him choose Zoe over her time and time again.
He was a jerk. He should have noticed her growing distance long ago. But what had he been doing at that time?
She had been so excited about their
wedding dress, but he had shamelessly let Zoe wear it. He had promised to go on a trip with her, but he ditched her and spent time with Zoe‘ s parents instead. He had promised to go with her to their alma
mater but chose to break that promise when Zoe called.
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