I exited the chat and muted the notifications, refusing to watch her replace me in real time. Despite the ache twisting in my chest, my resolve remained steady. Walking forward still felt right—even if it hurt.
I stepped into the estate house that had been my home for nearly a decade. Eight years of shared space, shared routines, shared silence. Every room carried echoes of what we’d been—what I’d believed we were building.
Tonight, I was done clinging to echoes.
As I began packing, my eyes landed on the thick leather-bound album resting on the coffee table. It had been Leonardo’s idea. A private tradition. Every photo inside marked a moment from our years together—business victories, quiet dinners, stolen laughter between deadlines.
He once told me he wanted to give me 9,999 memories before asking me to marry him. Not because of contracts or expectations—but because he wanted me to choose him willingly.
The album was almost complete. Only one blank page remained.
But promises mean nothing when devotion fades.
I carried the album outside to the open clearing behind the estate—the place where bonfires were once lit for celebrations and milestones. Under the cold glow of moonlight, I built a small fire. When the flames caught, I placed the album on top.
The leather curled. Pages blackened. Smoke rose into the air, thick and final, carrying years of hope with it.
Footsteps broke the silence.
I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Leonardo. His presence was unmistakable.
He stopped short when he saw the flames. Panic flashed across his face as he rushed forward.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his voice sharp, commanding, furious.
I didn’t move.
He lunged toward the fire, trying to salvage what remained, but the heat forced him back. He cursed under his breath as his hands reddened, stamping at the embers in a desperate attempt to put out what was already gone.
“Have you lost your mind?” he snapped, spinning toward me. “Do you even understand what you just destroyed? Years of memories—gone. Why would you do this?”
I met his gaze without flinching.
“Because memories are meaningless when the promises behind them are broken,” I replied evenly. “You said you’d give me reasons to choose you. Instead, you handed that role to someone else before we even reached the end.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re twisting this. Camila—”