10
The rain poured in sheets as Miguel slammed down the gas pedal.
On the other end of the call, Saoirse’s sobs spilled through the line.
“Brother Miguel, I don’t want to marry that man. He’s old and disgusting…”
Miguel’s eyes darkened. “I won’t let that happen. Everyone knows you’re my woman now.”
His gaze fell on the red umbrella handle lying in the passenger seat. The bright color pierced his eyes like a blade.
My pale face and my calm voice before he left kept flashing through his mind.
I hadn’t always been like that.
Back when we first got together, I once found a lipstick in his car that wasn’t mine.
I had broken down crying on the spot, demanding answers.
Miguel had frantically pulled up the surveillance footage and discovered it was left by the driver’s girlfriend. Only then did I stop sobbing.
But now, I didn’t cry, didn’t question, didn’t even react.
I was quiet. It felt so quiet, and it felt like I no longer had anything to do with him.
A call jolted Miguel from his thoughts. It was Lori.
“Miguel, I really have to say this: do you think any of this is fair to Belle?”
Miguel gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white.
“Lori, Saoirse needs me. Right now, I’m the only one who can help her.”
“This is the last time. I promise.”
At the Pearson residence, Saoirse stood in front of the mirror, carefully squeezing eyedrops into her eyes.
Giselle clutched the hem of her blouse anxiously. “Saoirse, are you really sure about this?”
“Of course.” Saoirse’s voice dripped with smug certainty. “I know Miguel better than anyone. He’ll definitely marry me.”
She gave a sly smile. “If I don’t pressure him now, he’ll keep dragging things out with that flawless sister of mine.”
Suddenly, footsteps echoed outside, rushed, heavy.
Miguel burst through the door, drenched from head to toe, yet still carried himself with that composed dignified presence.
He didn’t hesitate.
He fell to his knees.
“Auntie, I’m willing to marry Saoirse. Please, don’t give her to someone else!”
Right on cue, tears from Saoirse’s eyedrops spilled down her cheeks. She sobbed as she threw herself into Miguel’s arms.
The next morning, I arrived at the ferry as promised.
They were already there, Miguel and Saoirse, standing side by side, looking like the perfect couple.
Manager Lori had sent me a message that morning, telling me about their engagement.
I thought I had stopped caring. But the moment I saw them together, my chest still ached.
My gaze dropped to their fingers, matching diamond rings, each engraved with a firework motif.
My heart seized.
On our third anniversary, Miguel had prepared a fireworks show just for me.
Bathed in the glow, his side profile had looked so tender, so sincere.
“Belle, what kind of wedding rings do you want when we get married?”
I clung to his hand, laughter in my voice as the sky lit up.
“Then our rings should be engraved with fireworks, okay?”
“Okay.”
Maybe she noticed my gaze. Saoirse tucked her hair behind her ear with a smug little smirk.
Miguel stepped toward me. “Belle, the paparazzi are still watching. I’ll explain everything tonight properly.”
‘Hmm.”
I pressed a hand to my chest, steadying the weight inside as I said, “Miguel, this is my sixth-anniversary gift for you.”
“And about what I said the other day, about breaking up…”
Before I could finish, Saoirse let out a mocking laugh.
“That looks so cheap! Is that really the gift you prepared for him, Sister?”
The box was simple, white, handmade.
Inside were the memories of a life that never got to begin. I never wanted it to be flashy.
Miguel’s expression froze.
Still, he reached for the box and opened a corner.
His gaze landed on the words printed inside: Obstetrics and Gynecology Hospital.
