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Chapter 3

Autor: Noorie
Upon returning to the apartment, I began clearing out my desk and packing my essentials.

Unexpectedly, Enzo returned home early and caught me in the middle of zipping up my bag. Seeing the half-filled luggage, he mistook my actions, assuming I was organizing my outfit for our upcoming couple's charity auction.

“Isn't it a bit early? You're far too impatient.”

“Besides, we’re bidding on classic oil paintings at the galas—why are you packing a vintage acoustic guitar? Aren't you afraid of looking completely out of place?”

I froze.

A long time ago, we had agreed that after our wedding, he would finally accompany me to the music retreat in Vienna. Music was the only thing that had helped me heal after escaping my past, and he had promised to play rhythm while I sang.

He had kissed my knuckles back then and whispered, “I will always be the audience member who stays until your very last song.”

That was why three days ago, I had asked him to reserve our passes for the music gala.

Almost instinctively, the words left my mouth: “Isn't it the Vienna Music Retreat?”

Enzo’s expression darkened with impatience as he pulled out two VIP passes from his coat pocket—they were for a private jewelry exhibition in Geneva instead.

A split second later, a third pass slipped out from his pocket, fluttering down onto the glass coffee table.

I didn't even have to look closely. It was stamped with the exact same VIP tier and date.

He stiffened for a moment, then offered an indifferent, offhand explanation:

“I must have misheard you. I thought you said you wanted high-end accessories for the wedding. My assistant placed the order for three VIP passes by mistake.”

Yet, the guest name registered on that extra pass clearly read: Stacy Miller.

Suddenly, I remembered last week when Stacy had posted a photo of a rare diamond necklace on her profile with the caption:

【Dreaming of seeing the private collection in Geneva with someone who truly appreciates elegance. Wishing upon a star.】

Looking at the pass on the table, it was painfully clear—Enzo was fulfilling her wish once again.

My dreams had never truly mattered to him, and my passion was just something he tolerated to act out his role as my savior.

I took a slow breath, forcing the lump in my throat down.

“Cancel my pass.”

Hearing this, Enzo completely lost what little patience he had left for me.

“What difference does it make which event we attend? Besides, Stacy is an expert in gemstone authentication—she can help us choose the right jewelry for you. Why do you have to be so petty about everything?”

“You're getting more and more high-maintenance.”

I looked up and stared into his eyes, unable to believe those words were coming from him.

When he first brought me out of the darkness of my childhood, I suffered from severe speech anxiety and stage fright.

Back then, every time I choked on my words in front of a crowd, he would gently hold my hand behind his back and whisper courage into my ear until I found my voice.

He had never called me "high-maintenance" back then.

I gripped my guitar case tightly. “I’m not being petty. It’s because I’m—”

Before I could finish, his phone buzzed with an exclusive chime reserved only for Stacy.

He raised a finger to silence me instantly, turned on his heel, and stepped out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut to block me out.

With a sharp click of the glass door, my unsaid words—“walking out of your life”—were locked inside the room.

Later that night, as I walked past the balcony to pack my remaining papers, I heard his lowered voice through the narrow gap in the door frame:

“She’s becoming so exhausting to handle lately—it’s only going to get worse after the wedding.”

“Back then, I spent months helping her overcome her trauma and speech anxiety. I never said it to her face, but she should realize how draining it was for me to act as her emotional anchor for so long.”

Every single word pierced straight through my chest like shards of ice.

I couldn't hear Stacy’s reply, but Enzo’s tone instantly shifted to panic and care.

“You hurt your hand trying to tune your violin?”

“Don't touch anything. As soon as Evelyn goes to sleep, I’ll drive over with a medical kit to check on you.”

Leaning against the door frame in the dark hallway, I let out a soundless, bitter laugh.

You don't need to make excuses anymore, Enzo.

I won't be your burden ever again.

I didn't stay to watch him make his secret exit. I walked quietly back to the guest bedroom, zipped my bag shut, and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

I didn't even wake up when the front door clicked open in the middle of the night as he rushed out to be by her side.
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