Chapter 3

Margaret saw her again.

Marjorie.

She lived in a villa on the south side of the city, a place isolated from the world. Apart from the few people who took care of her and Gavin, no one ever came by.

But Margaret had been here before. She had studied the villa completely.

She knew where people could be concealed.

Marjorie looked surprisingly well, wearing a long white dress and draped in Gavin's coat.

Margaret felt like a thief.

She had rushed out in such a hurry earlier, running so fast that she lost one of her shoes. Now, barefoot, she stood in the muddy earth, feeling the cold sting of dirt and the tiny crawl of ants against the soles of her feet.

But she wasn't frightened. She was numb, standing still as she watched Gavin and Marjorie's happiness unfold.

Marjorie was barefoot too, but she had her feet resting on Gavin's legs, her pale toes curling up.

She smiled brightly and asked, "Gavin, where's the gift you promised me?"

Gavin pulled out a Burberry handbag.

"Here you go. Do you like it?" Gavin asked softly, running his fingers through her hair.

Marjorie eagerly took the bag, inspecting it, then pouted. "You didn't buy me a fake one, did you? This bag comes with a free perfume! Where is it?"

Margaret froze. She suddenly realized—Gavin hadn't brought her any gift at all.

That bottle of perfume? It was the freebie from Marjorie's gift.

Gavin paused, then shrugged. "I figured it wasn't worth anything, so I tossed it in the trash."

The sharp pain in Margaret's stomach grew, and she slowly sank to her knees. Beads of sweat trickled down her face as her vision blurred.

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry…

But here she was, unable to help herself.

She wiped away the tears that had fallen from her eyes, her body trembling.

The man she thought would always protect her, the one she believed only cared for her… He'd only ever seen her as a trash bin.

Margaret had thought she would be above it, that she could handle the heartbreak with grace. But she was wrong.

Once you've loved with everything you've got, you can't just let go like it's nothing.

And that was why Gavin couldn't just let go of Marjorie.

He had protected her for so many years, kept her within his sights, held on stubbornly.

Marjorie took the bag from Gavin, excitedly slinging it over her shoulder.

"You're the best, Gavin," she beamed. "You always remember what I like. Do you remember when we got engaged? You had yellow roses, and I was carrying my Burberry bag. And you also gave me…

"No, wait…" Marjorie's voice suddenly faltered, and her eyes filled with panic. "You didn't propose to me, did you? Gavin, why haven't you proposed to me? Don't you love me anymore?

"Gavin, we're not married yet, are we?"

Marjorie dropped to the floor suddenly, screaming as she struggled to get up.

Gavin rushed to pull her into his arms, but she slapped him several times in a frenzy.

"Why won't you marry her?!" Marjorie screamed, throwing a picture frame to the ground with a crash.

In an instant, shards of glass flew across the room, cutting Gavin's arms in several places.

A photo, spinning wildly, floated out from the wreckage of the frame.

Margaret could see it clearly.

It was a photo of her and Gavin, taken the first time she had appeared in public as his fiancée.

That day, she had been wearing a Burberry crossbody bag.

"Shh, it's okay." Gavin reached for her, letting Marjorie bite down on his arm, nearly tearing a chunk of flesh from him. "Calm down. I promised you I'd marry her, so I will…"

Margaret couldn't bear to watch any longer.

She turned and fled, almost stumbling in her rush to leave.

Barefoot, she walked over the cold concrete, the night stretching endlessly into the early morning.

And no one even noticed.