LOGIN"You haven't changed a bit. From high school until now, you still dress the same. How do you expect to get a boyfriend like that?" Tiffany remarked, looking her up and down. Abigail glanced at her friend. As far as she could recall, Tiffany didn't use to dress this way in high school or college. She used to say that it didn't matter what they wore as long as they were comfortable, that it was all about how one carries oneself. But now, it seemed Tiffany had changed 360 degrees; even her clothes and the bag she carried were branded. Abigail knew that Tiffany's family was affluent. It seemed she was the only one who remained unchanged over time.
"Come, I'll introduce you to someone," Tiffany said cheerfully, taking the young woman's hand and leading her to the table where James was seated. "I met him earlier while touring the cruise," Tiffany explained, stopping in front of James. "James, I want you to meet my friend, Abby," Tiffany introduced. "Abby, meet James," she said, turning to look at Abigail. "I know him," Abigail replied simply. Tiffany looked at Abigail in surprise, noticing her serious expression while gazing at the seated young man. Upon seeing Abigail's face, James immediately stood up from his seat. "Wow, what a small world, you two know each other," Tiffany remarked, managing a smile despite the sudden awkwardness of the situation. "Yeah, she's my colleague," James said. Colleague? Abigail's mind echoed as she glanced at the young man. Had she heard right? Was 'colleague' all that James considered her? They weren't on that cruise as coworkers. They were there to get married. "Oh, you mentioned earlier that you work at Ulrick Group," Tiffany said, turning to Abigail. "You work at Ulrick Group?" she asked, surprised. Abigail couldn't blame Tiffany for her astonishment. It was indeed challenging to get a position in such a prestigious company. She was perplexed by her acceptance; during her interview, she had been on the verge of sickness from nerves. "Wow," Tiffany exclaimed in awe. "You're truly impressive. I've always known you were smart. It seems almost all of our classmates wanted to get into that company, but you're probably the only lucky one who did," she added. The young woman simply responded to Tiffany with a modest smile. Indeed, it was tough to get into that company. "Ah, what are you doing here? Are you with someone? I heard there's a group wedding happening on the cruise the day before Christmas Eve. I'm here to cover the event," Tiffany said, showing her ID. Abigail was aware that Tiffany worked for a publishing company, which was the latest update she had shared in their group chat. "No way!" she exclaimed, looking at the young woman. "Don't tell me you're getting married?" Tiffany said incredulously to the lady. "Why? Is it bad?" the lady asked, hiding her annoyance at Tiffany's remark. She didn't want to get upset with her friend, knowing she meant no harm. "Of course not," Tiffany replied with a smile. "Since we're already here, why don't you introduce me to your fiancé?" she suggested. Abigail looked at the young man standing before them. How could she reveal to her friend that this man, who had introduced himself as her colleague, was the one she was about to marry? "I'm sorry, but may I speak with Abigail alone for a moment? It's work-related," James said, seemingly reading Abigail's thoughts at that moment. "Sure," Tiffany responded simply. The two excused themselves and walked out of the restaurant. James led Abigail to their cabin inside the cruise ship. "Colleague?" Abigail asked, turning to look at the young man once they were inside their room. "Are you upset because that's what I told her?" James inquired casually, taking off his coat. "Am I not the one you're going to marry, and yet you introduce me only as a colleague? Who wouldn't be angry? Do you expect me to be pleased?" the girl said sharply. "Don't be angry," James spoke, then approached the girl, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her closer. "I don't want to ruin our moment later. I want us to keep a low profile for now. It's all for the element of surprise, you understand me, right?" he said soothingly. "And another thing, stop frowning. You'll spoil your beauty," James teased, placing his index finger on Abigail's forehead. "Smile. It's going to be our wedding night later. I want you to be the most beautiful bride," James said. Abigail smiled in response. This was what she loved about James; he could soothe her so quickly. She didn't know if it was just James's charm or if she was just too willing to believe his words. Slowly, James moved his face closer to hers, as if intending to kiss her. The girl quickly closed her eyes in anticipation of James's kiss. Yet, she was taken aback when she felt a kiss on her forehead instead, reminiscent of his past affection. Simultaneously, the sound of his cell phone rang out. "Sorry, I have to take this," said the young man, glancing at his phone. "Who is—" the girl began to ask, cut off mid-sentence. "It's Uncle Edward," the young man replied. "Is it work?" Abigail inquired. "Seems so," he said, then stepped back from the girl. "Let's meet at the venue later. Make sure to look dashing, my bride," James tenderly said, kissing her forehead before leaving. Abigail watched him depart with a lingering gaze. "I should get ready," Abigail said to herself as she walked towards her suitcase and took out a white dress. It wasn't as extravagant as the wedding dresses she had seen in movies, but she knew her wedding would be memorable nonetheless. This was her Christmas gift to herself: marrying the man she loved most. And she couldn't wait for it to happen, hoping James felt the same anticipation.The night deepened around them, the hum of the city fading into the quiet rhythm of their breaths. Edward’s hand still rested at the small of Abigail’s back, his thumb drawing slow, absent circles against her skin through the thin fabric of her blouse.Neither spoke. Words felt too fragile for the moment, too small for everything that pulsed between them.Abigail looked up at him — the curve of his jaw lit by the city’s soft glow, the tenderness in his eyes. There had been a time when that gaze terrified her — when love had felt like a promise destined to be broken. But now, standing in his arms, she understood that what frightened her wasn’t love… it was the possibility of losing it again.“Edward,” she whispered, her voice trembling but sure.He tilted his head, waiting.“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”His expression softened, his hand coming up to cradle her fac
The first light of dawn slipped quietly through the sheer curtains, painting the room in a soft golden hue. Abigail stirred, her lashes fluttering open to the sound of steady breathing beside her. For a moment, she didn’t move. She only watched — the way the sunlight touched Edward’s face, the calm rise and fall of his chest, the peacefulness she hadn’t seen in him for so long.He had fallen asleep sitting beside the bed again, one arm resting on the mattress, his hand still loosely holding hers. The gesture was so simple, yet it carried all the words neither of them had dared to speak.Her heart ached, but in a gentler way this time. The pain was still there — it always would be — but now it pulsed alongside something else: gratitude. Hope, perhaps.Abigail slowly sat up, careful not to wake him. She studied his face — the faint shadows under his eyes, the traces of exhaustion softened by devotion. This man, who once li
Edward paused in the doorway of the guest room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp spilling across the quiet space. His brows furrowed when he saw Abigail sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly on her lap as if bracing herself for his arrival.“Why are you sleeping here?” he asked gently. His voice was calm, but there was a faint note of hurt beneath it.After the confrontation at the convent, Abigail had come with him willingly—silent, distant, but compliant. She hadn’t argued or complained. He knew she wasn’t ready to face his father or anyone else after what had happened. And truthfully, he wasn’t ready either. Seeing his family again would only remind him of the pain that had taken everything from them.He took a step closer. “We have our own room, Abigail. Why—”“I’m more comfortable here,” she said quietly, her tone steady but fragile. “I came with you, but that doesn’t mean…”“Doesn’t mean you want to live as husband and wife again?” he finished for her softly.
Days passed quietly in the orphanage.The rhythm of life there was simple — bells in the morning, prayers before breakfast, laughter echoing faintly from the courtyard where children played.Abigail had always thought of silence as punishment. But here, in these soft, measured days, silence began to feel like something else — a kind of mercy.She woke each morning to the scent of bread baking in the kitchen. The air was cool, filled with the sound of small feet running down the halls. Sometimes one of the younger girls would peek through the door, eyes wide with curiosity.“Are you the lady from the rain?” they would ask, and she would smile faintly, nodding.“Yes. The one who forgot her umbrella.”They would giggle and disappear again.At first, she barely spoke to anyone. She spent her hours helping in the garden behind the chapel, her hands finding comfort in the soil — planting, watering, tending. There was something about watching things grow that eased the ache inside her, even
Edward hadn’t slept.It had been three days since Abigail disappeared from the hospital, and each morning felt colder than the last. Her letter — folded and worn from being read too many times — stayed in his pocket like a wound that refused to close.He’d searched everywhere.Her previous apartment. The places she used to visit. Even the chapel where she liked to light candles after long days. Every street he drove down felt like chasing a ghost.Every night, he told himself he’d stop — that if she wanted to be found, she would have left a sign. But every morning, he woke up and started again. Because not looking felt like giving her permission to vanish completely.The sky was dull and gray that afternoon when he found himself driving toward the edge of the city. Rain had just begun to fall again — a thin drizzle that blurred the windshield and painted the world in muted silver.He didn’t know what drew him down that road. Maybe instinct. Maybe desperation. Or maybe, some quiet part
When Abigail left the hospital, she didn’t know where to go. Her body simply moved — as if her heart, not her mind, was steering her.The road blurred beneath the soft drizzle of morning rain until she found herself standing before her grandmother’s grave. It was the only place that had ever felt like home.She knelt beside the cold marble, tracing the faint letters of her grandmother’s name with trembling fingers. The scent of wet grass lingered in the air.“If you were still here,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I wouldn’t be this lost.”She closed her eyes.Images flooded her — the gentle hands that once brushed her hair, the lullabies that promised the world wasn’t as cruel as it seemed. But those hands had been gone for years, and the world had proved itself cruel over and over again.When her grandmother died, everything else had followed — her parents’ affection, her place in the family, her sense of belonging. They’d sent her away to the convent, to a life measured by sil







