How many years had passed since Luther Harword truly cared for her? Five? Perhaps longer. Once, Seraphine had believed their bond was unbreakable—unspoken yet deeply profound. A simple glance had been enough to communicate everything.
But perhaps her dependence had been the foundation of his arrogance. Secure in the belief that she would never leave, he had grown reckless, parading his indiscretions with Cornelia without fear of consequences. He forgot that she, too, was human—capable of pain, capable of walking away.
Seraphine stared at her phone, the screen littered with missed calls. With a decisive swipe, she blocked his number. Next, she opened her social media apps. Her finger hovered over the "delete" button on their chat history.
Her eyes flicked to his new profile picture. Gone was the whimsical cartoon she had drawn for him years ago. Now, a glossy, professional headshot stared back—a portrait of calculated detachment.
Her chest tightened. An old saying whispered in her mind: When a man who never changes his profile picture suddenly updates it, he has someone new.
Her trembling fingers pressed delete. A decade of shared memories vanished in an instant.
It was time to leave, and this time, there would be no coming back!
