Chapter 15
If only William had paid more attention, perhaps he would have noticed the gradual dimming of the light in Victoria’s eyes.
If, on that day, he had chosen to stay at the bridal shop instead of walking away–waiting for her, helping her into the beautiful wedding dress, lifting her veil, kissing her tenderly, and telling her how stunning she looked–would things have turned out differently?
She would have blushed, shy as ever, and begged him to stop teasing her. Then, they could have taken pictures together, shared them on social media, and basked in the warm compliments from friends. Could the outcome have been different?
But in this world, regret doesn’t rewrite the
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past.
Victoria would never return, and she would never forgive him.
William gripped the new wedding dress tightly in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably in a house that no longer held her presence.
Somewhere deep in the mountains, I was at a research institute, far away from everything.
Before I removed my SIM card, I noticed a flurry of missed calls from William and his friends. Among the messages was a photo from the proposal scene–flowers arranged with my initials and his name.
Ah, so this was the “surprise” he had promised. But by that point, I had no need for it. I didn’t respond to anyone. Instead,
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I blocked the number and permanently discarded the useless phone.
Time at the institute passed quickly, and before I knew it, ten years had come and gone in the blink of an eye.
The various medications we had secretly developed were now being put to use on the market.
In the eleventh year, my research team and I were invited to an international academic conference. We were accompanied by security the entire time.
After the conference, we were interviewed by reporters.
As we were leaving the venue, a junior researcher tapped me on the shoulder. “Senior, someone has been watching you for
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a while.”
I looked up and saw him.
William.
He was no longer the energetic young man I once knew, with a sharp, confident presence. Now, he was a middle–aged man, so worn and weathered that he was nearly unrecognizable. Our eyes met from a distance, and for a moment, the past flooded back. But it felt distant, as though it belonged to another lifetime entirely.
He hurried toward me, but security intervened and stopped him.
“Victoria, it’s me, William,” he called out, his voice thick with desperation.
“Victoria, please, just give me a few minutes.”
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After a thorough security check, we were finally seated across from one another in a conference room.
Seeing him again, I felt nothing. No rush of emotion. No spark.
In fact, my junior had briefed me about him when I first joined the institute. She told me that after I left, he spiraled into alcoholism and began to deteriorate. His company teetered on the brink of bankruptcy multiple times, but it was thoughts of me that had kept him going–fueled his work, his fear of never being able to reach me.
After the restriction period on my house ended, he spent a small fortune buying it back. I never understood why.
Without his help, Ava’s family had fallen into
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financial ruin.
Eventually, Ava turned to money and became the mistress of a married man. When his wife discovered the affair, she publicly assaulted her. Ava tried to flee but was hit by a car in the process. Now, she would likely spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.
As I listened to these stories, I felt no stir of emotion. After all, personal dramas paled in comparison to the larger, national matters I was dealing with.
Noticing the indifference in my expression, William’s voice faltered and cracked.
“I’m sorry, Victoria.”
The words spilled out, but I barely reacted. A faint curve of my lips was all I could muster, a gesture that meant nothing. It was too late.
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His apology held no weight for me anymore.
“Do you still hate me?”
I didn’t even need to think about it. For me, William had become nothing more than a figure from my past, a shadow that no longer warranted a single drop of emotion.
All those years–those years of love, of pain -had faded with time. More than ten years had passed, and I had long since released the grip of the past.
But it seemed that for William, forgetting wasn’t an option.
Tears slid down his face, regret and sorrow twisting his features, but I felt nothing for him. Not anymore.
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