Chapter 4

I reached out my hand to retrieve my phone, but Tristan lifted it a fraction higher, well out of my reach.

"Answer me."

Sunny leaned in close to catch a glimpse of the lit screen, looking entirely taken aback. "Cancel the wedding event? Grace, you cannot possibly be serious right now."

I kept my eyes locked on Tristan. "Give me back my phone."

He didn't budge an inch. "You're seriously going to cancel our entire wedding over a few minor issues from the past few days?"

A few minor issues.

A faint, hollow laugh escaped my throat. "Yeah. Minor issues."

Tristan’s expression turned even more hostile. "Grace, do not use this kind of childish tactic to threaten me."

"I am not threatening you."

"Then what exactly do you think you're doing right now?" He slammed the phone down onto the coffee table, his index finger pressing hard against the glass screen. "You know perfectly well that all of our relatives have been notified, the venue has been booked, and hundreds of invitations have already been sent out. If you cancel this now, is your sole goal to make me look like a complete laughingstock?"

My gaze fell upon the pristine white camellias pinned against Sunny's dress, and a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, draining every ounce of my energy to argue. "It won't. It won't make you look like a laughingstock."

I should have realized the truth long ago.

The thing he cared about was never whether I was drowning in grief. He only cared about whether the formal outward appearance of his life remained completely unblemished.

Sunny gently tugged at the cuff of Tristan’s sleeve. "Tristan, please don't be angry. I'm sure Grace is just acting out because she wants you to chase after her and smooth things over."

Tristan let out a sharp, cold sneer. "Have I not chased after her enough in our lives?"

He glared down at me, his voice dropping to a low, heavy register. "Grace, from the time we were little kids up until today, when have you ever not been exactly like this?

"Whenever you can't hear a sentence clearly, I'm the one who has to repeat it. Whenever you're unhappy, I'm the one who has to guess why. If anyone else says a single offhand remark to you, your eyes instantly turn red with tears.

"In the past, I genuinely believed you just needed me to shield you. But now, it's just completely exhausting."

I stood frozen in place, a loud, violent ringing echoing through my right ear.

Yet, despite the noise, I heard every single word he spoke with absolute clarity.

Sunny added another soft, delicate remark from behind him. "Honestly, Tristan is kind of the victim here too. He’s spent so many years taking extra care of you... it’s not right that he doesn't get to have a single say in his own wedding arrangements."

Tristan didn't offer a single word to deny her statement. My eyes drifted away from him, landing on the white umbrella resting against the doorframe, its metal skeleton visibly warped.

When he had first gifted it to me, he told me that whenever it rained and he couldn't be by my side, this umbrella would be there to shield me in his place.

I walked over and picked it up.

Tristan’s brow furrowed tightly. "Are you seriously trying to storm out again?"

I didn't offer an answer. I simply extended the umbrella, holding it out directly toward him.

He refused to reach out and take it.

So, I slowly lowered my arm and placed it right at his feet. "I'm returning it to you."

Tristan’s pupils constricted into sharp pinpricks. "Grace, are you actually being serious right now?"

Sunny suddenly bent down and snatched the umbrella off the floor. "Wow, this thing looks incredibly ancient. The structural ribs are completely out of shape."

She snapped it open to inspect it, the fabric canopy listing heavily to one side. "No wonder Grace doesn't want it anymore."

My tone turned entirely detached and freezing. "Put it down."

Sunny flinched, visibly startled by the sudden drop in my voice. Her grip loosened instantly, and the umbrella dropped hard against the hardwood floor.

The heavy metallic tip slammed violently against the wooden leg of the coffee table with a sharp, echoing crack.

The final remaining structural support rib snapped entirely in two.

The living room fell into a dead, heavy silence, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioner.

Tristan stared down at the broken umbrella at his feet, the expression on his face finally fracturing into absolute shock.

But Sunny was the first one to let her eyes well up with tears. "I am so incredibly sorry! I swear I didn't mean to break it. Grace, please don't look at me like that... you're genuinely terrifying me."

Tristan snapped out of his daze, immediately stepping forward to block her from my sight. "Grace, it’s just an old umbrella. If it's broken, I will buy you a brand new one to replace it."

I stared at him for a very long moment. Then, slowly, I nodded my head. "Okay."

My flat reaction seemed to make him feel even more deeply irritated. "Stop being so passive-aggressive."

I squatted down onto the floor, picking up the broken metal fragments of the umbrella frame one by one.

The jagged metal edges scraped against my fingertips, leaving a sharp, stinging pain behind.

Tristan reached out his hand, attempting to pull me back up. "Stop picking those up. You're going to slice your hands open."

I shifted my body, deliberately dodging his touch. "No need."

Sunny whispered softly from behind his back, "Tristan, maybe I should just head downstairs first. I genuinely feel like Grace absolutely loathes my presence here."

Tristan rubbed the space between his eyebrows in absolute exhaustion. "I'll walk you down to your car."

He turned his head back to cast one final glance at me. "Just stay home and clear your head. The wedding is proceeding exactly as planned, so stop throwing these endless fits."

He strode over to the entryway, but as he reached the front door, his footsteps halted once more. "Grace, I know for a fact that you cannot survive without me. Call me once you've finally thought things through logically."

The heavy front door clicked shut.

The apartment descended into an absolute, unbroken silence.

I tossed the broken fragments of the umbrella straight into a trash bag, then walked over to the coffee table and picked up my phone.

The wedding planner had sent one final text message.

[Miss Thorne, you have exactly ten minutes left.]

I held down the audio button on my messaging application.

My voice was completely flat, completely steady.

"Cancel it."