Chapter 3

Aria’s POV

The morning after Ethan walked out, the city was quiet—too quiet.

Rain tapped softly against the windows, turning the skyline into a watercolor blur. I stood there for a long time, barefoot, staring out the window.

My phone blinked with unread messages, bringing my gaze to it.

Ethan (14 missed calls)

Ethan: Please, Aria. Just talk to me.

Ethan: I can explain.

Ethan: I love you. Don’t do this.

I scrolled until the words blurred, my chest tightening. He was still trying to fix a broken thing with the same hands that shattered it.

I powered off the phone.

Then I opened my laptop and typed my resignation letter. Short. Professional. Detached.

Dear Mr. Black,

Effective immediately, I will be stepping down from my position as Corporate PR Manager.

Thank you for the opportunities and experience I gained during my time at Black Corporation.

Sincerely,

Aria Miles.

No explanations. No emotion. Just closure.

When I hit send, my throat tightened. Years of hard work—gone with a single click. But that company wasn’t mine anymore. It was his kingdom, and I refused to be a ghost haunting his empire.

I spent the next few hours packing.

Clothes, essentials, a few keepsakes that weren’t tainted by memories. I didn’t take much—just enough to start over. The apartment, the furniture, the pictures—all of it felt like a museum of lies.

As I taped the last box, I caught sight of a framed photo on the shelf. Me and Ethan on the balcony of his villa in Santorini, the ocean behind us, sunlight in our hair. We looked happy. Real.

I picked it up. For a second, my fingers hesitated over the frame. Then I set it face-down in the box and sealed it shut.

By afternoon, I’d booked a one-way ticket to another city. Somewhere no one would recognize me. Somewhere I could breathe without hearing his name whispered in every shadow.

When I stepped outside, the sky had cleared. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets washed and gleaming. A metaphor, maybe. Or just coincidence.

The cab driver asked where I was headed.

“Anywhere but here,” I said softly.

He chuckled like I was joking. I wasn’t.

---

I didn’t cry on the way to the airport. I thought I would. I thought I’d fall apart completely. But instead, there was just this strange calm in me..like my heart had burned itself empty.

I watched the city skyline fade in the rearview mirror, and a thought came quietly: He’ll notice when I’m gone.

And he did.

Later that week, while I sat in a small coffee shop in another state under the name Lia Hart, I saw his face on a business news channel on the shop’s TV.

The caption read:

“CEO Ethan Black’s fiancée resigns unexpectedly amid rumors of internal scandal.”

The reporter spoke about the company’s upcoming gala that had been abruptly postponed. Some said Ethan was “recovering from personal matters.” Others speculated it was a public relations crisis.

I stirred my coffee slowly, watching him on the screen—perfect suit, practiced charm, but his eyes… they looked different. Lost, almost.

Once upon a time, that would’ve made me want to reach out.

Now, I just whispered, “You’ll survive,” and turned away from the TV off.

---

The following weeks were a blur of change. I dyed my hair a softer brown, cut it shorter. I stopped wearing the delicate dresses he used to love. My new wardrobe was simple—neutral tones, clean lines. Clothes that didn’t belong to anyone’s expectations but mine.

I started going by Lia Hart.

A name that sounded like a blank page.

At first, it felt strange introducing myself that way.

But each time I said it, it fit a little better.

Lia was confident. Composed. No one looked at her and saw heartbreak. No one pitied her. She wasn’t Ethan Black’s fiancée anymore. She was just herself.

And for the first time, that was enough.

---

One night, I sat by the window of my new apartment—small but bright, overlooking the river—and opened my laptop again. Not for work. For something else.

A fresh document. A new beginning.

“Sometimes,” I typed, “the bravest thing you can do is leave before you’re asked to stay.”

I stared at the blinking cursor and smiled faintly. That sentence would become the first entry in what I started calling The Vanishing Diary—notes to myself, reminders of why I left, proof that I had survived.

Because healing isn’t loud. It’s quiet. It happens between coffee cups and long walks, between small victories and lonely nights.

It happens when you stop checking your phone to see if he called.

When you stop dreaming about apologies that never come.

When you finally wake up one morning and realize you didn’t think about him at all.

That’s when you know you’ve begun again.

---

By the end of that month, I had a new job offer.

Hayes Corporation.

A bigger company. Different city. Clean slate.

When I walked into their glass tower for the first time, something inside me settled. Not peace exactly, but purpose.

And as I shook hands with the CEO, Lucien Hayes—calm, composed, eyes kind in a way Ethan’s never were—I knew the past had officially become what it was meant to be: the past.

I wasn’t Aria Miles anymore.

I was Lia Hart.

And this time, I wasn’t here to love anyone else.

I was here to love me.