The Man She Left, The Love She Found

Julian’s call ended, and Zara sank deeper into the couch, letting the quiet darkness of the night wrap around her. She felt drained—physically, and emotionally—like she was carrying the weight of a world that no longer belonged to her. It was much later when Landon finally stumbled through the door. The sharp scent of whiskey clung to him, his shirt wrinkled from a night spent indulging in whatever pleasures the city had to offer. Landon's smirk was lazy as he took in the sight of her curled up on the couch. "Baby, did you miss me today?" he teased, kicking off his shoes. "Why are you just sitting here all alone, huh?" His words were playful, but his eyes—those cold, distant eyes—were already elsewhere. Landon flicked on a lamp, casting the room in a dim glow as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss against her cheek, his breath warm and heavy with alcohol. "Didn’t you make me some hangover soup?" Zara didn’t answer right away. "No," she finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a time she would’ve jumped up to take care of him, eager to cater to his every need, desperate for his affection. But not tonight. Tonight, the only thing she felt was exhaustion. The kiss that used to make her heart race now felt cold—like a blade pressing against her skin. Then his phone buzzed, shattering the silence. "When are you coming to pick me up?" Cassidy Martin. Landon stiffened for half a second before his expression smoothed over. He turned to Zara with a low chuckle, his lips brushing against her ear. "Baby, my mom's been on my case about getting married, but don’t worry, it’s just a marriage of convenience. You’re still mine, alright?" The arrogance in his voice made her stomach turn. He said it like it was some grand favor like she should be grateful for whatever scraps of attention he decided to throw her way. But even as he spoke, she could see it in his eyes. His heart was already gone. On any other day, she might’ve fought. She might’ve screamed, begged, demanded answers. But not today. Zara just looked at him, numb. Then she shrugged, her tone flat. "Alright. Whatever you say." And with that, she turned and walked away, the weight of his indifference pressing against her like a stone. The man who once swore he’d give her the world now smelled like another woman’s perfume. She picked up her phone, dialing a number she knew by heart. "Boss, I’ll submit my resignation later. I'll leave it on your desk." Zara had built her career from the ground up, earning a reputation as a top designer. She had worked harder than anyone else, but in a world full of rivals, her departure was bound to make waves. Her boss hesitated before sighing. "Stay a few more days. I’ll discuss it with the higher-ups." "Okay." Her voice was steady, emotionless. The decision had already been made. Outside, fireworks exploded in bursts of color, painting the night sky with streaks of gold and red. The streets were alive with celebration—families, lovers, laughter. But behind all that warmth, Zara stood alone. Landon was with someone else. Her phone vibrated again. This time, with a notification from Instagram. [Oh my God, so this is Landon’s first love? She’s gorgeous and way more beautiful than I imagined.] The video showed Cassidy, radiant under the glow of the city lights. She was effortlessly charming, her porcelain skin flawless. In the background, Ryan laughed, and Landon, ever the gentleman, draped his coat over her shoulders. "Why’d you take so long to come back?" he asked, his voice soft, affectionate. Cassidy’s smile was teasing as she pouted. "Wasn’t I waiting for you?" It was perfect. A picture-perfect romance, something out of a dream. A dream Zara had never experienced with Landon. Her phone buzzed again. Cassidy’s name flashed on the screen. [Hey, Zara, why don't we catch up tomorrow night? After all, I’d love to see if the little side character by his side is even worth looking at.] Zara stared at the message, reading it slowly. Cassidy’s words dripped with cruelty, but for the first time, they didn’t sting. She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the faintest hint of life growing inside her. It was a painful reminder of everything she stood to lose. She typed out a single word in response: [Okay.] Then, she set the meeting place at the Emerald Lounge at Clearwater Bay. She knew the owner. Getting a private room on the second floor wouldn’t be a problem. ... Finally, Zara's long-awaited meeting with Cassidy arrived. By the time she stepped into the lounge, Cassidy's voice was already cutting through the walls—condescending, and unmistakable. "Landon, you still haven’t broken up with that woman? You’re still keeping Zara around?" Zara stood outside the door, her hands clenched at her sides. Cassidy’s voice was laced with amusement. "She's just a mere substitute! How could she compare to me? Landon, don’t you agree?" Zara closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. The pain, the anger, the years of being treated like a second choice—it all burned inside her.

Zara knocked on the door, her hand steady, her expression unreadable. From inside, a voice rang out, casual and amused. “Come in.” As she stepped inside, Cassidy slid off Landon’s lap with a lazy smirk. She let out a light chuckle, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So, this is Zara? Cute name. Doesn’t really suit you, though.” Her voice was drenched in sarcasm, her gaze sweeping over Zara like she was nothing more than a cheap imitation. “She kinda looks like me, but honestly? She looks like a clown.” For a split second, Zara hesitated, caught off guard by Cassidy’s sheer audacity. The chandelier overhead cast a warm glow on Cassidy’s flawless features, accentuating her striking presence. With every move she made, she seemed to command attention. When she finally locked eyes with Zara, it wasn’t curiosity or interest. It was pure condescension. Dressed in a sleek black pearl gown, Cassidy was a vision of elegance. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, a silky frame to the smug satisfaction in her expression. She tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “That kid in your belly,” she mused, her voice sugary sweet, but dripping with bitterness, “do you think it’ll even turn out decent? You’ve never been able to keep a single one all these years, so why bother trying now?” Her soft chuckle that followed was anything but kind. “A hen that can’t lay eggs,” she added, stretching lazily in her seat, clearly relishing the tension she was stirring. Landon’s jaw tightened at her words. His sharp gaze cut toward Cassidy as his temper flared. “Watch your mouth. She’s my girl.” But Cassidy wasn’t the least bit intimidated. She rolled her eyes, tossing a bored glance his way before shifting her attention back to Zara. Her playful smirk never faltered, even as she delivered the next blow. “So tell me, Landon,” she drawled, “since you left, why’d you come back?” She sighed dramatically, then let out an amused chuckle. “Felt bad for you, that’s all. But I’m over it now. I’ll be leaving.” As she passed Zara, she reached out and tapped her lightly on the shoulder, her smile as arrogant as ever. “Hey, side chick, if you know what’s good for you, you should just disappear.” Her words hung in the air like smoke, but she didn’t wait for a response from Zara. She turned on her heel, her radiance filling the room one last time before she disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her perfume. Flustered and still reeling, Landon barely had time to speak before his eyes landed on Cassidy’s new companion—a man whose hand was now resting securely around her waist. His gaze was anything but casual, lingering on Cassidy with possession and amusement. Landon’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his expression darkening. Seeing Cassidy, confident and untouchable, set something off inside him. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiled over. “Fine! You’ve got guts! You really do!” he snapped, his voice low with fury. “If you’re that capable, then don’t ever let me see you again!” Cassidy barely spared him a glance. Her smirk widened, her expression cool and dismissive as she intertwined her fingers with the man beside her. Landon’s fury deepened, his chest rising and falling in sharp breaths, but he didn’t look back—not at Cassidy, not at Zara. With one last glare, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the Emerald Lounge, leaving Zara standing alone in the middle of the room. Zara’s lips pressed together in a tight line. But in this world, if you didn’t fight back, you got trampled. No one crossed a line without consequences. Cassidy, draped in her designer gown, was a striking figure of power and cruelty. She picked up a glass of red wine, swirling it leisurely before raising it to her lips. Her eyes flickered with something wicked as she turned toward Zara. Then, without hesitation, she tilted the glass forward. The deep crimson liquid splashed over Zara’s white dress. A slow, satisfied grin stretched across Cassidy’s face. “Clown, get lost,” she sneered, voice laced with condescension. “If I ever see you with him again, I won’t let you off so easily.” Laughter erupted around them, murmurs of amusement rippling through the room as onlookers delighted in Zara’s humiliation. The whispers were like sharp daggers, cutting—mocking her for being the woman who couldn’t even hold onto her title as Landon's girlfriend. Zara stood still, feeling the warm liquid seep into the fabric of her dress. She could feel the weight of their stares, their amusement at her expense. But she didn’t flinch. Instead, with a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her hand and slapped Cassidy across the face. The sound echoed like a crack of thunder, cutting through the laughter, and silencing the room. Cassidy’s face turned red with shock and fury. Before she could react, Zara’s voice sliced through the tension—calm, steady but deadly. “You’d better keep your mouth shut,” she said coldly. “I don’t want that man anymore. If you love picking up trash, then take good care of it.” Cassidy’s fingers trembled near her cheek, but Zara didn’t wait for her to recover. She turned on her heel and walked out, stepping into the freezing night air. The cold wrapped around her instantly, but it was nothing compared to the ice in her heart. She was done. But the night wasn’t done with her. As she made her way home, a Maserati sped past, splashing dirty water all over her. Zara barely had time to react before the passenger window rolled down. Cassidy was leaning lazily against the frame, that same smug smile playing on her lips. “Side chick,” she called out, voice laced with amusement, “consider that your punishment for slapping me.” Her eyes gleamed as she tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Oh, and this car—do you recognize it?” Zara blinked, wiping the water from her face as Cassidy continued, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “I heard that on your birthday, he gave you a Maserati, right?” Cassidy let the words linger before delivering the final blow. “Well, let me break it to you. On your birthday, he wasn’t even there. He was in the U.S. with me.” She let that sink in before her lips curved into a smirk. “As for this car? He bought two. Mine’s the top-spec model.” She let out a slow breath, watching Zara with barely concealed mockery. “Yours? Just a sponsor’s hand-me-down.” With a final, triumphant glance, Cassidy rolled the window up and sped off, her laughter lingering in the night like a cruel echo.

Zara wasn’t heartbroken over the red wine that had soaked her dress, nor was she bothered by the humiliation she’d endured earlier that night. Honestly, she could care less about any of it. What stung—what really stung—was the realization that people could trample all over the last bits of sincerity you had, like it meant absolutely nothing. The more she thought about it, the harder it became to breathe. Watching that Maserati speed away had felt like watching her dignity vanish into the night. She stood beneath the dim glow of the streetlights, her shadow stretching long on the cracked sidewalk. Alone. Disheveled. Feeling just as pathetic as she looked. By the time she finally made it home, Landon was nowhere to be found. No text. No call. Nothing. The silence was deafening—until her phone buzzed, breaking the stillness. Ryan’s voice came through the line, casual but a little hesitant. "Hey, Zara, could you pick up Landon? He’s completely smashed and can’t drive." Zara let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temple. She was exhausted. But she swallowed the fatigue, her voice quiet as she answered, "Mm." ... Under the night sky, Landon stood by the car, his shirt unbuttoned, showing just enough of his toned chest to make it look effortless. He leaned lazily against the vehicle, his lips curved into a drunken smirk, the picture of careless arrogance. His smile was, as always, breathtaking—but the name he slurred wasn’t hers. "Cassidy… tell me, what did I do wrong? Why did you leave me without a word?" The dim streetlights flickered above, casting a hazy glow over him. Landon’s vision was blurred from the alcohol, and in his drunken state, he mistook Zara for Cassidy. Something inside her cracked, but she kept her voice even. "I’ll take you home." Ryan shifted uncomfortably beside them, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, Zara. Landon's just drunk. Don’t take it seriously." But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Drunk words were often sober thoughts. And Landon, wrapped up in his stupor, clung to Zara like she was Cassidy, whispering another woman’s name over and over again. Ryan’s explanation didn’t mean a damn thing. They all knew the truth. Cassidy was back, and to Landon, she was the only thing that mattered. Zara? She was just… there. She helped him into the cab, his body slumping against the seat. He looked so lost, curled up in the back, his voice hoarse as he mumbled Cassidy’s name in his sleep. Zara studied his face, feeling something deep inside her twist. He was still so damn handsome. Still, the man who had once made her heart race. But none of that mattered anymore. She exhaled softly. Under her breath, Zara whispered, "In half a month, I’ll be gone." She paused, the words sinking in. "Landon, don’t blame me for not waiting for you. I waited seven years for you to come back to me, but you never did." She wasn’t just saying it to him. She was saying it to herself. Because deep down, she had always known what kind of man Landon was. And she had always known how this would end. By the time they reached the Riverside Estate, it was past midnight. Landon stumbled inside, collapsing onto the bed in an instant, lost in a heavy, drunken sleep. Zara stood there for a long moment, just watching him. She was tired—bone-deep exhausted. But she turned toward the kitchen, her hands moving on autopilot as she prepared to make hangover soup. Then, she stopped. The thought of doing something kind for him felt hollow. Pointless. She just stood there, hands hovering over the ingredients, staring at nothing. That night, they slept in the same bed. But the space between them felt like an ocean. ... The next morning, Zara woke up late—noon, to be exact. Landon was still in bed, his arms wrapped around her waist, his breath warm against her ear as he chuckled softly. "You were so obedient last night," he teased, his voice groggy. "You even came to pick me up. Did you secretly curse me out in your head?" The way he said it—like it was all just some joke—made something in her chest tighten. It felt so damn familiar. Like seven years ago. Back then, when they were in that perfect little honeymoon phase, Landon would go out drinking, never wasted, just tipsy enough to make it fun. She used to pout, crossing her arms. "If you keep this up, I won’t let you come home anymore." "Alright," he’d laugh, always giving in to her, like he had no choice. Back then, they weren’t even officially together. But it didn’t matter. He treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world. People respected Zara then. They had to. Everyone knew she was Landon’s pearl—the one thing he wouldn’t let anyone touch. But now… she trembled, wishing she had never overheard that conversation between him and Cassidy. Unfortunately, she had. After a beat of silence, Landon slipped out of bed, as if trying to smooth things over. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a cup of warm milk, his smile gentle. "Drink this," he said, his voice sincere. "It’s good for you." If it had been any other time, she would’ve taken the milk without hesitation, like she always had. But today was different. She stared at the cup in his hands, the warmth of it feeling like a cruel joke. Was it really just milk? Or was it something else? Something meant to make her forget? To soften her resolve? Her lips pressed into a thin line, doubt and anger swirling inside her. She opened her mouth to refuse, but before she could, Landon gently pressed the cup to her lips, his voice coaxing. "Drink it, okay? Thank you, baby." His eyes were so damn sincere. But Zara wasn’t sure if she could trust him anymore.

Landon turned and walked out without a second glance. The cup of warm milk sat in Zara’s hand, its sweetness long gone, replaced by a bitter aftertaste that mirrored the tears she hadn’t been able to shed. With one last, shaky breath, she drained the cup to the last drop. A sharp pain knifed through her abdomen, and then—blood. Zara knew. She didn’t need a doctor to confirm it. She was losing the baby. Panic seized her chest, but the world around her blurred, dissolving into darkness. The only thing she could do was close her eyes, the weight of despair pressing down on her like an unbearable force. ... When Zara woke, daylight had already filled the room. But the sterile scent of antiseptic and bleach made her stomach turn. The cold air from the hospital vent made her shiver, her body weak, and her throat raw. Through the window, she spotted a Rolls-Royce parked outside. 'He’s here?' For the briefest moment, hope flickered inside her. But then— “You know, Cassidy’s really lucky. She just caught a cold, and her fiancé's acting like it’s the end of the world.” “Right? I heard he is Landon Winston from the Winston family. They say he’s a playboy, but who would’ve thought he could be so devoted?” The engagement ring on her finger slipped, tumbling to the floor with a soft metallic clink. Zara didn’t even look at it. Her mind was a whirlwind of static. "Landon… tell me, who are you really loyal to? Do you think that little side character won’t be upset? And using nourishment to supplement the body? You actually came up with that?" Her eyes were swollen, her face raw from crying. Just as she thought she might drown in her misery, the door creaked open. The nurse stepped in, and behind her was Cassidy Martin. Their eyes met. Zara could read the message clear as day in Cassidy’s gaze. Provocation. Amusement. Triumph. Cassidy didn’t even need to say a word. Her lips moved silently, taunting Zara: 'Look at you. In the end, you lost to me.' And Landon? His eyes never strayed from Cassidy. Zara coughed, her chest tight, then slowly closed her eyes. As if shutting them could somehow make the disgrace disappear. ... On the drive back home, Zara saw something that made her freeze. Landon—her fiancé—who had never once set foot in a kitchen, was now in there, cooking. “Zara, Cassidy’s going to stay here for a few days. You know that, right?” he asked. She didn’t respond. Her body felt like lead. Her heart? Even heavier. Exhausted and completely drained, she muttered without thinking, “Do whatever you want.” From the kitchen, Cassidy’s voice rang out, dripping with a smirk. “Forget it. Since I’m here, I’ll let you try my cooking today. I made dumplings for you. What do you think?” Zara didn’t answer. She was too tired. Too tired of all of it. Her thoughts drifted to Julian. She didn’t even know where he was, but for some reason, she wanted to hear his voice. Just to ground herself. Just to remind herself that there was still something beyond this nightmare. Landon stepped out of the kitchen, dusting flour from his hands. His voice was soft, coaxing. "Don’t be mad at me, okay? After a while, I’ll take you on a trip. Just don’t stay angry." His eyes held that familiar tenderness—the same warmth that had once made her melt. But now? Now it just felt empty. To him, this was a cycle. He played, he strayed, and when he was done, he always came back to her. Because he liked her. Didn’t he? Zara stayed silent. Before she could even process her thoughts, Cassidy’s voice rang out again, laced with mockery. "Come on, join us! We all know our dear Zara has no clue how to make dumplings, so why not try mine instead?" Landon shot Zara a nervous look, lowering his voice. “Please, don’t be upset anymore, okay?” Zara ignored him, her focus entirely on Cassidy. Slowly, deliberately, she picked up a dumpling and took a bite. Cassidy’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Well? How does it taste?” Zara didn’t answer. But Landon? His face drained of color. He turned to her, his hands trembling slightly. “Get out of my house,” he said, his voice shaky, like his entire world had just collapsed around him. But Cassidy wasn’t done. Feigning to be surprised, she let out a lazy hum before sneering. "Do you know what you just ate?" The air grew thick, suffocating. Cassidy leaned in, her smile widening. "You ate the child you aborted yesterday. That’s what’s wrapped inside." Her grin was pure malice. “Delicious, isn’t it?” She was reveling in this—savoring Zara’s pain like a fine wine. Every word was meant to crush, to obliterate, to make sure Zara never crawled back from this. “How does it feel?” Cassidy cooed, tilting her head. "How does it feel to taste your own flesh and blood?"

Cassidy’s words hit Zara like a slap to the face. The dumpling slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor with a dull thud. Her whole body went rigid like she’d been struck by lightning. Landon panicked. He reached for her, his arms wrapping around her as if holding her close could erase everything. His breath came in short, desperate bursts. “Zara, don’t be mad at me, okay?” But Zara wasn’t hearing him. Her body trembled violently, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. Even her lips quivered. Zara controlled her anger, but her mind was screaming to lash out at him. 'Landon… how dare you? How dare you treat me like this?!' When Zara couldn't contain it anymore, she burst out, “You knew about this from the start, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!” Her chest heaved, her eyes bloodshot, burning with fury. “Landon, tell me, what did I ever do to deserve this? Why are you doing this to me?!” The weight of it all came crashing down, a tidal wave of grief and rage. It wasn’t just the neglect. It wasn’t just the heartbreak of losing seven unborn children. It was the soul-crushing realization that she couldn’t love him anymore. Landon’s face twisted in panic. He reached for her again, his words tumbling over each other in desperation. “I won’t go through with the arranged marriage anymore, okay? Please, don’t be mad at me! From now on, I’ll stay by your side—just you and me, alright? Don’t be mad, please…” For the first time in his life, he was afraid. His voice cracked. “I’ll cancel the engagement.” But Zara wasn’t listening anymore. She was exhausted—down to her bones. The only thing she wanted was to collapse into sleep and never wake up. She shoved him away, her touch ice-cold, then turned and fell onto the bed. ... When Zara woke, her phone was buzzing. An incoming call from Julian. The moment she heard his bright, youthful voice, something in her chest loosened. He laughed lightly through the speaker, his tone teasing. “Zara, when you come back to Westfield, can you bring me some local snacks? I’m seriously craving them.” Like a burst of sunshine cutting through the storm, his voice warmed the frozen corners of her heart. She smiled, the heaviness in her chest easing just a little. He kept talking about small, silly things, filling the silence with something that wasn’t hurt. “Alright,” she murmured, voice softer now. “We’ll talk more when I get back.” And just like that, the anger and hurt suffocating her lifted, if only for a moment. ... Later, when she stepped outside, Landon was waiting at the door. He looked uneasy, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. It was the first time she’d ever seen him like this. Panicked. Hesitant. Unsure of himself. She met his gaze with indifference. “I’m going to meet some friends. Don’t follow me.” But his voice came firm, stubborn. “I want to go.” She laughed, the sound sharp. “I already said I’m going alone. What’s the point of you coming? You really think my friends want you there?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re more full of yourself than I thought.” ... They climbed into the Maserati. The second Zara saw the Hello Kitty decorations on the passenger seat and the “Princess’s Exclusive Ride” sticker plastered on the dashboard, her stomach churned. She felt physically ill. She didn’t even hesitate. She slid straight into the backseat. Landon frowned, glancing at her in the mirror. “Come sit in the front. I’ll have someone clean it up when we get back.” Zara leaned back, arms crossed. “My passenger seat is only for you,” Landon coyly said. She didn’t care about the car. Or about the childish remnants of his past with Cassidy. With a small, humorless scoff, she answered, “No need. It’s just a seat.” Landon looked like he wanted to say something else, but she cut him off with a cold finality. “Just drive. There’s nothing to talk about.” Silence settled between them like a thick fog. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, but she stared out the window, detached and unbothered. The drive was quiet. The tension was suffocating. When they finally pulled up to the hotpot restaurant, Landon’s phone buzzed. Ryan.

Ryan’s voice crackled through the phone, filled with urgency and panic. "Where are you? Do you even know what happened to Cassidy? How could you just leave like this?! She—she tried to kill herself! Do you get it?!" Landon’s face drained of color. His eyes flickered with guilt and hesitation as he glanced at Zara, clearly caught between duty and desire, unsure of how to navigate this mess. “I’ve got something to take care of today,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Zara barely reacted. Her voice was flat, almost indifferent. “Oh.” Then, with a calmness that even she hadn’t expected, she added, “If it’s too much for her, she can stay at our house.” Landon’s head snapped up, his face showed shock and disbelief. “What did you just say?!” “I said,” Zara repeated, her tone unwavering, “she can stay at our house.” Landon’s jaw tightened. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to check on her. I’ll be back soon. I won’t let her stay at our house.” “You’re my fiancé,” Zara said, her voice sharp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered, almost too quickly, before turning and walking away, practically fleeing like a man running from his own conscience. ... By the time Zara wrapped up dinner with her friends, it was well past midnight. Fatigue settled deep in her bones as she hailed a cab home, her body still weak from the miscarriage. Her phone buzzed incessantly. The screen lit up with a string of incoming messages. [Do you know what he’s doing right now? He’s blow-drying my hair.] [Look, these are the love letters he wrote me. Want to see them?] Zara remained silent. Every single message and every picture revolved around Landon. The images, taken in what was obviously a hotel room, showed Cassidy draped in nothing but the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Bruises and kiss marks traced her skin in places that needed no explanation. Cassidy had always been arrogant. But this? This was just her being excessive. Zara exhaled slowly, the weight of her exhaustion pressing down on her. She didn’t feel anger—not even heartbreak. Just an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Her fingers moved swiftly across the screen as she typed back: [Then keep your dog on a leash and quit letting him run around biting people.] ... The next morning, as Landon busied himself in the kitchen, another message from Cassidy popped up. [Come to Starlight Tower tomorrow.] Zara’s jaw tightened. 'How ridiculous.' Without a second thought, she closed the message and turned away. That day, she gathered her things. Every love letter. Every diary entry she had ever written for Landon. One by one, they went into the trash. The carefully folded paper stars. The protective charm she had once prayed over at Everlight Sanctuary. The scarf she had bought but never had the chance to give him. The bag of White Rabbit candies she had intended to share with him. All of it went up in flames. Seven years of memories—of pain, of hope—burned away in seconds. That night, she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind looping through thoughts of Cassidy, of Landon, of every single lie she had swallowed whole. When she finally managed to drift off, the sharp buzz of her phone jolted her awake. A message from Landon: [Be good and stay home. I’ll come see you this afternoon.] Almost immediately after, another message. This time, from Cassidy: [I know you want to go back to Westfield. If you don’t come to Starlight Tower, I’ll tell him about your plans to leave.] Zara’s fingers tightened around her phone. 'So this was the game now? Threats?' she thought Zara, then, took a slow breath, forcing her emotions down. Then, she typed back one word: [Fine.] ... Starlight Tower was a historical landmark, steeped in legend. People whispered that it had been built by an ancient emperor for his true love. They said if lovers prayed there, their souls would be forever connected, bound together in this life—and the next. Seven years ago, Zara had stood at these very steps, praying for Landon. She could still hear his voice in her mind—bored, indifferent. “You’re not a kid anymore. If you want something, go by yourself. My time is precious—can you afford to waste it?” Back then, she had swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to smile, waiting for him to turn around and see her. Just once. Just for a second. But he never did. And that’s when she finally understood. It wasn’t that Landon couldn’t love her. He just didn’t love her. “Well, well,” a familiar voice cooed, pulling Zara out of her thoughts. “So you were waiting here all along.” Zara turned, finding Cassidy descending the stone steps, her heels clicking against the ancient rock. She looked effortlessly composed, her smirk lazy, her eyes alight with amusement. But beneath all of that, her cold, calculating malice was unmistakable. “You actually had the guts to show up here?” Cassidy’s voice dripped with mockery, full of venom. “Aren’t you scared you might not leave alive?” Zara stood still, letting the weight of Cassidy’s words settle around her. But then, something inside her clicked. She wasn’t afraid of Cassidy. She wasn’t afraid of any of this. She had nothing left to lose. With a slow, steady breath, Zara squared her shoulders, meeting Cassidy’s gaze head-on.

“If you die, do you think he’ll even care?” Cassidy’s voice was ice-cold, her eyes narrowing as if she were seriously contemplating shoving Zara down the stairs. Zara’s heart pounded. “You wouldn’t dare! This place follows the law, you know!” she spat, but even as the words left her lips, she knew how powerless they were. Cassidy didn’t hesitate. Before Zara could react, a sharp yank sent them both tumbling down the stairs. Pain shot through Zara’s body, a sharp, searing sensation radiating from every bone, every muscle. The air rushed past her ears with the sound of hurried footsteps and a voice—one full of panic and desperation. “Cassidy!” Zara tried to steady herself, but Cassidy, already on the ground, clutched her knee and let out a wail. Her face twisted in pain, but behind the dramatics, there was something else—mockery. Triumph. The rain had started falling, a soft drizzle soaking into their clothes, washing over them like an omen. And then, like clockwork, Landon appeared. He rushed to Cassidy’s side, his face twisted in worry. He didn’t even look at Zara. Not once. “I was late—how did you fall down the stairs?” His voice was thick with worry as he cradled Cassidy in his arms like she was made of glass. Cassidy whimpered, gripping his sleeve. “It’s all her fault! She pushed me! She pushed me down the stairs!” Zara’s blood boiled, but the words died in her throat. 'What was the point?' Landon had already made up his mind. He turned to Zara, his voice sharp, full of betrayal. “You might hate Cassidy, but how could you push her down the stairs?! I’m beyond disappointed in you!” Cassidy nestled into his arms, milking the moment, while Landon carried her off like a hero in some twisted fairytale. Zara? She was left standing there, bleeding, her body aching, the rain soaking into her skin. She never cried. But this time, she broke. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, the sound of her own heartbreak swallowed by the storm. ... Alone and barely able to walk, Zara dragged herself to the hospital, each step heavier than the last. And then, he appeared. Landon stood at the door, his posture stiff, guilt evident in every inch of his face. “I lost my temper today... I know Cassidy can be... willful. Don’t be mad, okay?” Zara didn’t even flinch. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a message from Cassidy—but she didn’t bother to look. She just stood there, silent. Too indifferent. Before, she would’ve raged. She would’ve screamed, demanded answers, and made a scene. Now? Now, she had nothing left to give. Landon’s voice cracked, desperation seeping through. “Zara, why don’t you care anymore?” Zara blinked, realizing something at that moment. She was done. She was completely, utterly done. “I’ll check on Cassidy and come right back, okay?” Landon added, his voice softer as if that would somehow make this better. Zara glanced down at the plane ticket in her hand. A soft, hollow laugh escaped her lips. Landon stood there in his neat trench coat, composed, unreadable—as if none of this had happened. She turned away. No words. No dramatic scene. No last glance back. Just her, her luggage, and the decision she should have made a long time ago. "I'm sorry, Landon," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her. "I don't want your truth. My life's chapter with you is closed. You don’t even exist anymore." The towering skyscrapers stretched high into the sky, gleaming under the bright sunlight. It was a picture-perfect day, the kind meant for weddings, for joy. For Zara, it was a day of scars. Wounds that would never heal. ... At the airport, chaos erupted. A panicked voice rang out. “Mr. Winston, Miss Sullivan has left!” Landon’s head snapped up, his face draining of color. “What do you mean, ‘left’?! Where did Zara go?!”