Chapter 4

Wendy's POV

Ava had left.

Simon came running up to me, his chin held high as he made his announcement.

"Ava has a fashion show overseas in a few days, and Dad is taking me with him for a whole month!"

He looked at me expectantly. "Mom, hurry up and pack my bags!"

In the past, I would have carefully sorted and packed all his belongings, making sure not to leave anything behind.

This time, I simply turned to the nanny, Stella Parker, who was standing nearby.

"Stella, could you take care of that for me?" I asked calmly.

Simon froze, clearly caught off guard by my reaction.

Colin came downstairs. He slowed for a moment before walking over to me, then went silent.

When he finally spoke, there was an unusual note of reassurance in his voice.

"You haven't really gone anywhere in a long time."

He hesitated before adding, "Why don't you... come with us?"

Simon immediately tensed and stared at me with obvious reluctance.

I shook my head slowly.

"No, thanks," I replied, my voice flat and emotionless.

Simon let out a sigh of relief.

"Exactly. Mom, why would you even come with us? It's not like you understand fashion anyway. All you know is laundry, cleaning, and cooking. How boring."

Colin frowned at Simon's harsh words. He turned to leave, but stopped short after taking just one step.

With his back still turned to me, he lowered his voice and said, "Come to think of it, I haven't seen you paint in a long time."

My heart shuddered, as if something had struck me out of nowhere.

So, he still remembered.

In the first few years of our marriage, even this cold, empty house had seen a few moments of warmth.

On sunny afternoons, I would set up my easel by the window. Sometimes, Colin would pass by and stop to look at my paintings.

"It's full of life," he once said.

On rare occasions, he would even bend down, point to a particular patch of color, and discuss it with me.

Those moments were among the precious few slivers of light in my otherwise bleak and suffocating marriage.

One day, I excitedly told him that my design portfolio had passed the initial screening at a prestigious fashion house.

For the first time in years, I dared to hope that I could pick up the pieces of my abandoned dream and start over.

However, Colin was unusually exhausted that day. He rubbed his temple and asked flatly, "Wendy, what's the point of all this?"

He continued, "Isn't the life I give you good enough? Why put yourself through all that hard work just to earn a little money?"

He paused, his voice turning cold.

"You could work yourself to the bone for a year and still earn less than what I make from signing a single deal in one day."

The words I'd been so eager to say caught in my throat. All my bright hopes for the future vanished in an instant.

He was right. In the business empire he controlled, and by his standards for measuring the worth of everything in the world, my dreams and talents meant little. They weren't even worth a second thought.

I quickly packed away my art supplies and hid all my design drafts. I locked them away in a forgotten corner, right alongside the version of myself who had once dared to dream.

"I stopped painting a long time ago," I said, lowering my gaze as I tried to hide the tangled emotions churning inside me.

...

Three days later, I went along to the airport to see them off.

"Alright. This is far enough," Colin said casually, turning to me.

Simon gave me a halfhearted wave. "Bye, Mom!"

I stood anchored to the spot, watching them turn and blend into the bustling crowd.

Colin had only taken a few steps when, for some reason, he glanced back over his shoulder at me.

I waved calmly, forcing a faint, polite smile.

Only after they had vanished completely into the crowd did I walk toward the parking lot and pop the trunk.

Inside, my old suitcase sat waiting.

"Mrs. Fraser, what are you doing?" our household manager, Victoria Reed, asked, looking puzzled.

"I'm going on a trip to clear my head," I replied.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked into the bustling terminal.

The massive departure screen flickered as it updated every few seconds.

I looked up and found the flight number for Colin and Simon's flight. They were headed to warm Novaria, where the three of them would enjoy a family getaway.

As for me, I calmly headed toward a completely different gate.

As the plane sped down the runway, lifted off, and soared into the sky, I looked down at the familiar city shrinking beneath me.

I felt no sadness about leaving. Instead, I felt a sense of clarity, as if everything inside me had finally been washed clean.

Goodbye, Colin Fraser.

The plane adjusted its course and carried me steadily toward a distant future that was mine alone—far away from the happiness he would share with Ava and Simon.