The rain poured harder, drumming against the pavement in a relentless rhythm. Dave shielded Clara beneath the umbrella, cradling her in his arms as if she were something fragile, precious. She curled into him like a cat seeking warmth, her delicate hands clutching his shirt. Dave didn’t seem to mind the rain soaking through his clothes, not as long as Clara remained dry and comfortable.
He didn’t even glance back.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, watching them move toward the car. A cold numbness spread through me.
It was a scene I had witnessed before, long ago, during the early days when my heart beat only for him. I had once thought his arms were a safe place, his embrace something sacred. But even back then, it had been Clara he sheltered like this.
The rain plastered my hair to my face, chilling me to the bone. My hands trembled—not from the cold, but from the realization that I had been blind for far too long.
No. I wouldn’t stand there like a fool any longer.
Clenching my fists, I forced my legs to move, cutting through the rain and sliding into the back seat of Dave’s car. The leather was cold against my skin, but I didn’t shiver. I simply stared out the window, the glass blurring with rivulets of rain.
Dave finally returned, brushing water from his hair, and paused when he saw me. His expression flickered—surprise, maybe even guilt—but it quickly vanished behind that familiar mask.
“Oh, Aria,” he said, his tone overly sweet, “Clara’s health is delicate. You know how easily she gets sick. I just wanted to make sure she was safe in the car. You’re not upset, are you?”
He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to gauge my reaction.
Then, realizing how cold and wet I was, he quickly added, “Darling, why didn’t you wait for me to help you in? I should’ve been more considerate.”
His apology was smooth, practiced.
I met his eyes and forced a thin smile. “It’s fine.”
Those two words seemed to satisfy him. He let out a soft chuckle, shoulders relaxing. Of course, Dave believed me. I had never been the type to hold grudges, and he took comfort in that.
But deep inside, whatever remained of my feelings for him had long since turned to ash.
The drive back was suffocating. The car was filled with the sound of rain and silence. Neither of us spoke. He kept his eyes on the road, and I stared out the window, pretending the storm outside was louder than the storm inside me.
When we finally reached the Norman estate, I moved like a ghost through the halls.
I didn’t waste time. I gathered my belongings, folding clothes into a suitcase with mechanical precision. The room felt colder than usual, stripped of any warmth. On my dresser sat an old, worn diary—the only thing I left behind.
Its pages were filled with memories of a girl who once believed in family, in love. Let them keep it. Let it be my last gift to the people who had raised me.
As I dragged my suitcase toward the front door, Freya’s voice echoed behind me, sharp and cold.
“Oh? So, you’re really leaving? Don’t expect us to come running if something happens to you. You’re on your own now.”
I paused in the doorway, fingers tightening around the suitcase handle. Slowly, I turned back to look at her.
Twenty years. Twenty years under this roof, and this was how it ended.
I held her gaze, searching for any trace of warmth, of regret. There was none.
“Not even a sliver of affection left, is there?” My voice was steady, almost too calm. I gave her a faint, humorless smile. “Goodbye, Mother.”
Freya didn’t flinch. She just turned away, as if I were a shadow on the wall.
And that was it. My farewell to the Norman Family.
By the time I returned to the house I shared with Dave, the sky had darkened. The storm still lingered, distant thunder rumbling like a warning.
Dave greeted me with a wide grin, holding up an elegant white garment. “Aria! Look at this. I picked it out myself. The wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event, after all. You deserve the best.”
Laid out before me were rows of pristine wedding dresses, each more elaborate than the last.
I stared at them, my mind distant.
It was all a performance to him now. An elaborate show.
Dave’s eyes sparkled as he lifted one of the gowns toward me. “Here, try this one. I think it’s perfect for you!”
I hesitated, fingers brushing over the fabric. No matter how beautiful these dresses were, none could compare to the one I had designed myself, the one I had dreamed of wearing.
But dreams were for fools.
Wordlessly, I took the dress and disappeared into the fitting room.
The gown felt heavy against my skin, as if it carried the weight of every lie Dave had ever told me.
When I stepped out, Dave wasn’t even paying attention. He was huddled in the corner, speaking in hushed tones on the phone.
“I have to come now?” His voice was soft, careful. “But I’m with Aria, helping her choose a dress... Fine. I’ll be there soon.”
He thought I couldn’t hear him.
But I heard every word.
Every damn word.
And just like that, the fragile threads holding me together snapped.
Let him go.
Let them both think they’ve won.
Because soon, none of this would matter.
The full moon was coming.
And with it, so was my reckoning.
