The moment she stepped inside, Winter collapsed onto the sofa and could no longer hold back her tears.
This cramped apartment had been home for ten years and every corner of it held pieces of her life with Cassian.
The framed photo on the wall, the stubborn oil stains on the kitchen backsplash, the sagging couch, the blueberry plant they had once tended together.
One by one, the memories replayed in her mind like an old slide reel.
By the time the sky outside had gone dark, her tears had finally run dry.
She sat in silence, eyes roaming over the room. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the spacious villa she had seen earlier that day.
It was a home filled with Cassian’s presence, too, but it showed two completely different worlds.
And suddenly, she knew—she was the only one still clinging to the past.
Perhaps this apartment was nothing but a reminder to Cassian of the years he would rather erase.
After all, this room was a reminder of his lowest point—when he was more used to taking orders than giving them and the best meal he could afford was instant noodles with a single sausage.
The ceiling sagged under layers of makeshift waterproof sheeting, slapped on after leaks had ruined important papers more than once.
There was still a patched hole in the door—left from the time the landlord kicked it in, shouting for rent.
Back then, he covered her ears and hummed quietly, telling her she didn’t need to be afraid.
On the nightstand sat a glass jar filled with tiny folded paper stars.
They had written wishes on each one years ago. Supposedly, those wishes had all come true by now, so the jar no longer served a real purpose.
She thought about tossing it straight into the trash, but instead, she began unfolding one star open.
Back then, neither of them had shared what they had wished for, so she was curious to see if any of his wishes had been about her.
One by one, the paper stars were unfolded, revealing his wishes, but not a single one mentioned her name.
By the time she reached the last star, she did not even want to look. A laugh burst from her, sharp and wet with tears.
She crumpled the star in her fist, then tore every scrap of unfolded paper into pieces and dumped it all in the trash.
The bedroom walls were plastered with photos of them. She ripped them down, cut them into shreds and flushed them away.
When she came across an old photo of them together, she froze. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy it, so she shoved it into an old cardboard box instead.
The more she cleared, the emptier the apartment became. By the time she was done, the 600-square-foot space felt so hollow.
She carried all the discarded things to the hallway, where the junk collectors would pick them up in the morning.
When she finally sat back down, a strange numbness settled over her. She sat on the sofa, staring at nothing.
Until her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Winter? This is Yvonne.”
Winter stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.
Yvonne’s voice was light, almost teasing. “You saw what happened today. So, are you going to walk away on your own, or do I need to push you?”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. And then, like a delayed punch, she realized that the kind middle-aged ex-coworker who had asked for help earlier had deceived her.
Yvonne had been looking for her the whole time. And because Winter had quit her cleaning job, she used someone Winter trusted to lure her into the villa.
All of this suddenly felt ridiculous.
Ten years in this city and she didn’t even have one single real friend.
When she still didn’t answer, Yvonne’s tone sharpened. “You know I’m not letting go of Cassian. But as long as you’re around, he won’t leave you. I’ll give you half a million dollars to disappear.”
“If you don’t, his company will be finished before long. I’ll give you a week to think about it.”
Winter spoke before the line could go dead. “No need for a week. I’ll tell you right now—I’m leaving.”
She did still love Cassian and she couldn’t stand the thought of watching him lose everything again. But this time, she was saying yes for herself, not for him.
He had once saved her life and she had repaid him with ten years of hers. That was enough.
Yvonne arched a brow. “Fine. Just make sure you mean it. Don’t play games with me.”
A faint, bitter smile tugged at Winter’s lips. Play games?
That would only work if Cassian loved her too. And he didn’t.
That night, she tossed and turned. Her dreams played the same scene over and over.
In there, Cassian was standing beside Yvonne at their wedding. Not once did his eyes find her.
She wept in every dream until her eyes throbbed, trying to wake, but her body wouldn’t move.
And then—through the blur—Cassian began walking toward her.
“Winter? What’s wrong? Wake up.”
