Her chest tightened at his words. Her face had been bleeding, yet their sole concern had been Scarlett’s pose in the photo. The realization struck her like a sharp blade, carving out the faint hope she’d held onto.
Hazel waved off the concern with a faint smile. “It’s nothing. Don’t bother retaking it. It’s late; I’ll head back now.”
What did it matter? The idea of a family photo had been erased from her heart long ago.
Unwilling to prolong the show, she turned and left quietly, her figure retreating into the evening. The path to Belmont Villa felt longer than usual, each step heavy with unspoken resignation.
The once-vibrant wedding room, filled with traces of celebration, had been stripped of its warmth over the past few days. Hazel had meticulously worked to transform it into something cold and impersonal, a space that could have belonged to anyone.
She tossed the wedding dress near the door with little regard, its fabric pooling in a heap. Dragging out her suitcase, she began packing, her hands moving with mechanical precision.
Everywhere she looked, remnants of her time with Ambrose lingered. They had known each other for so long that nearly every item held a fragment of their shared memories.
But memories were a double-edged sword. Apart from the essentials, she decided to leave everything else behind. She wanted a clean break, a fresh start.
By the time the first rays of dawn brushed the horizon, a knock echoed through the quiet villa. The makeup artist had arrived.
Since she was about to leave, Hazel decided to dress elegantly, ready to greet the dawn of her new life. As she settled in front of the vanity mirror, a knock at the door shattered the quiet. Ambrose rushed in; his expression tinged with urgency.
"The makeup artist for Scarlett canceled at the last minute. She’s been crying nonstop. Could your makeup artist help her first?"
A request as absurd as sending the bride’s makeup artist to the bridesmaid was almost laughable. The makeup artist hesitated, caught in the awkwardness of the moment.
But Hazel remained composed, her voice calm. "Go ahead. I’m not in a hurry."
Her quick agreement startled Ambrose. On a day like this, shouldn’t she have protested? Shouldn’t she have shed tears or demanded attention, just like Scarlett would have?