Chapter 5

Maude laughed. "So tell me… Why isn't he marrying you?"

Imogen went still. "Don't fool yourself, Maude. Even if he marries you, his heart will always belong to me."

She shook the cup in her hand deliberately.

Maude's eyes narrowed. It was one of the matching mugs she had painstakingly crafted for their wedding.

Even if the wedding was called off, it was still hers.

"Give it back."

As Maude reached out, Imogen crumpled to the floor.

The cup broke, scattering shards everywhere.

"What do you think you're doing?" Orson's voice echoed as he entered. Seeing what had happened, he shoved Maude to the ground.

Shards of ceramic dug into her palm, unleashing a sharp, burning pain.

"She broke my cup, I—"

"It's just a stupid cup, Maude. What does it matter if it's broken? You're being completely unreasonable."

Maude's words faltered as blood oozed from her wounded palm, dripping onto the floor.

"It hurts…" Imogen murmured, her voice trembling as Orson held her close.

Without hesitation, Orson scooped her up and rushed out the door.

"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll get you to the hospital."

Maude winced as pain radiated through her hand. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at the broken ceramic beneath her.

For five years, she had given all her love to Orson.

However, no matter who was at fault, Maude was always the one expected to give way to Imogen.

And just like that, the storm within her finally settled.

It wasn't that she wasn't enough.

It was that Orson was never worth it.

She threw the broken remnants of the cup into the trash, never once looking back.

That night, Maude slept peacefully.

The next morning, Orson sent her a message.

"I'm sorry, honey. Immy's mom and my mom are best friends. I promised I'd look after her. I was afraid something might happen. My mom already doesn't think well of you.

"Immy kept crying, and I couldn't just leave her alone at the hospital. That's why I didn't come home last night. Please don't read too much into it."

It was obvious he was still trying to play the victim.

Maude threw her phone aside, not wanting to respond.

That afternoon, Orson returned with Imogen.

After making sure Imogen was settled, he finally knocked on Maude's door.

"I didn't realize how badly you were hurt. I promise there won't be a next time."

Orson cradled her hand gently, mindful not to apply too much pressure.

Though the cut was shallow, the bloodstains scattered across her skin made it appear far worse.

Maude replied without much thought, her gaze fixed on the calendar as she marked off another day.

She had once filled that calendar with hope and excitement for their wedding day.

Now, the only thing she looked forward to was getting away.

"Maude, what happened to the cup?" Orson asked suddenly, his eyes locked on the trash bin.

Maude followed his gaze, saying nothing.

The silence between them thickened. Orson's concern edged into panic.

"You're not supposed to keep only one," he said. "That's bad luck. Next time, I'll come along and help you pick out a proper set."

"There won't be a next time."

"What?"

Though Orson didn't catch everything she said, a growing unease stirred within him.

"If you're feeling tired, let me take over. And if you don't like Immy, that's fine. After the wedding, I promise you won't have to see her again.

"Honey?"

Maude looked up as he took her hand.

"Why is your hand so cold? Are you feeling alright?"

His face was full of concern, worry etched deep in his eyes.

"I'll get you a blanket."

Orson hurried to the closet and opened it.

Half of it was empty. All of Maude's belongings were gone.

He spun around, his eyes sweeping the room.

It was only then that he realized the bedroom was nearly empty. Everything that had once filled it was gone.

His voice wavered, cracking with disbelief.

"Where are the gifts I gave you?

"Maude… Where are your clothes?"