1:59 pm
[Marcus, can you lend me some money?]
His reply came fast. [What’s wrong?]
I bit my lip and typed slowly. [My mother’s things are being auctioned. I might not have enough.] [I’m on a plane, about to take off. I’ll have my assistant wire it to you right away.]
Item after item disappeared under the auctioneer’s gavel until, finally, it was time for my mother’s belongings.
“Next up for auction, a sketchbook titled Daughter!”
Saoirse clung to Miguel’s arm like a child, her voice sweet and coy.
“Miguel, I like that one. The painting on the cover reminds me of when Mom used to play with me as a kid…”
Miguel hesitated for a moment, then slowly raised his paddle.
“Five hundred thousand.”
My heart felt like a hollowed-out block of ice. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.
“Miguel, that’s my mother’s keepsake.”
“I’m sorry, Belle…”
“I’ve already made my relationship with Saoirse public. I need to maintain our image in front of the press, you understand, right?”
“I’ll make it up to you in other ways.”
I clenched my fists until my nails sank into my palms. Warm blood trickled down and hit the floor with a soft, hopeless drip.
“One million and one…”
“So pathetic.”
Saoirse didn’t even look at me when she raised her paddle.
“One point two million.”
I slumped into my seat, breathless.
“Five million.”
A voice rang out from the balcony.
A server lifted a paddle, calmly naming a price that silenced the entire hall.
Miguel’s expression darkened. He simply couldn’t match that price.
But Saoirse didn’t care. Her only goal had been to keep it out of my hands.
“Miguel, let’s not bother. I’m just happy you wanted to get it for me.”
Every item that followed was bought at a staggering price by the mysterious bidder in the private box.
Once all of my mother’s belongings had been auctioned off, the server finally lowered the paddle.
I trembled from head to toe, my eyes locked on the trays that carried the last traces of her.
I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t strong enough.
I couldn’t even keep your final keepsakes.
After the auction ended, the trays were quietly returned.
The server bowed low. “The gentleman said these are to be presented to Miss Pearson as a welcome gift.”
Saoirse’s breath hitched, her greedy eyes sweeping over the treasures.
She smiled demurely. “I already have a boyfriend. Isn’t this a little inappropriate?”
A deep voice echoed across the hall. “Who said it was for you, you self-absorbed, ugly clown?” Marcus stepped in front of me, dropped to one knee, and gently kissed the back of my hand.
“I meant for Miss Belle Pearson.”
“Welcome back.”
مرگ
9
In the empty stairwell, Marcus’s eyes were colder than his name.
“What do you mean by that?”
I drew a deep breath and repeated softly, “I said I need three more days before I can leave with you…”
“I didn’t ask you to repeat it. I asked what you meant.”
My brows knitted slightly, unsure of where to begin.
Suddenly, Marcus reached out and covered my lips. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear.”
The next second, his lips brushed against the back of his hand.
His breath was warm against my cheek. I flinched and tried to step back, but he pulled me into his arms and held me there.
“I missed you so much…”
“But I’ll respect your decision. I’ll come pick you up in three days.”
By the time I returned, the auction was over, and the crowd had already moved toward the banquet hall.
I wandered aimlessly around the dessert table when someone suddenly grabbed my wrist.
Miguel’s voice rang out, laced with anger. “Who was that man?”
“What?”
His chest rose and fell sharply as he frowned in disgust. “The one who gave you those auction
items.”
“His name is Marcus Murphy. He’s my childhood friend.”
Pain shot through my wrist, his grip tightening like he meant to crush it. A dangerous glint flared in Miguel’s eyes.
I stared at his twisted expression in confusion.
He was the one who had chosen Saoirse, so why did he now look like the one who had been abandoned?
But thinking that I’d be leaving soon, I softened my tone. “His mother and mine were lifelong friends. We grew up together. Buying the items was probably his mother’s idea.”
“Let go. That hurts.”
Miguel finally released me, his tone filled with suspicion. “He spent that much just for a few sketchbooks?”
Catching the contempt in his voice, I turned cold.
“Miguel, those were my mother’s belongings.”
Realizing he had gone too far, he chased after me. “Sorry, Belle. That’s not what I meant…”
Maybe it was my indifference, or maybe it was jealousy eating at him, but I didn’t see him again for days.
Until the day before our sixth anniversary, when he suddenly returned.
There was a trace of excitement in his voice as he pulled out two ferry tickets from his coat pocket.
“Look, didn’t you always say you wanted to go to Love Island with me?”
I lowered my gaze, gently rubbing the thin edges of the paper.
At the height of my love for him, I had dreamed of this countless times, only to be disappointed over and over, forcing myself each time to be understanding.
Now, with nothing left between us but silence, the tickets appeared at last.
I murmured softly, “Let’s go then.”
I happened to have something for him, too, a gift I had quietly prepared for our sixth anniversary.
Just as Miguel was about to speak, his phone rang.
“Brother Miguel, save me. My mom wants to marry me off!”
Saoirse’s frantic voice came through, breathless and panicked.
Miguel’s expression shifted, and he stood in a rush. “Belle, something came up at the company. I need to head out. I’ll see you on the ferry tomorrow.”
Thunder echoed in the distance.
“Wait-”
Miguel frowned. “I told you, it’s a company matter.”
I handed him the umbrella I’d been holding. “I was just saying the forecast says it might rain.
Take this.”
Miguel paused as if something inside him had quietly slipped away.
His fingers trembled and missed the umbrella on the first try, only managing to grip it the
second time.
As his figure faded from view, I turned away and gently packed the sixth-anniversary gift into a
Oox.
My resignation letter, the ultrasound photo, and the miscarriage report.
Just three pieces of paper, yet they carried the weight of six long years.
A laugh escaped through my tears.
“See you tomorrow, Miguel.”
