She’d spent every free mont working part-ti jobs, saving every dollar she could to make this proposal sothing truly special—sothing that would show just how deeply she cared. She wanted to give her beloved an unforgettable mory, one that would stand out against the backdrop of all the ordinary monts they had shared.
As she hurried along, she pulled out her phone, hands slightly shaking as she dialed the number she knew by heart. Her voice was breathless but bright as she spoke, "Hello, it’s Es Valhale," she said with barely contained excitent. "Is the booking ready?"
On the other end, the event manager responded promptly, his voice calm and reassuring. "Yes, ma’am, everything is set. We’re just waiting for you."
Es’s smile grew, her excitent almost spilling over. "Perfect! We’ll be there in a while. Please, make sure he doesn’t have to wait long..." Her words trailed off as her mind raced ahead to the mont she’d been envisioning for so long. This night would be everything she’d dread of—it had to be.
The manager chuckled, sensing her anticipation. "Of course, ma’am. We’ll make it unforgettable."
Hours later, as night settled over the city, Es sat alone in the elegant hotel room she’d booked, her dreams beginning to unravel into a bitter reality. She’d changed into a white suit, its tailored fit accentuating the careful thought she’d put into her appearance. Underneath, she wore a black shirt, her hair left loose, cascading over her shoulders. She wanted everything to be perfect, to create a mory as beautiful as her feelings. Candles were arranged on the table, their soft, warm glow illuminating the delicate rose petals scattered across the room.
She sat by the window, looking out at the city lights with a mixture of anticipation and growing dread. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her suit jacket, and she caught herself biting her lip, a nervous habit she couldn’t quite shake. Minutes turned into an hour, and the sinking feeling in her chest grew heavier with each passing second.
A gentle knock broke the silence, and a staff mber appeared at the doorway, their voice hesitant. "Ma’am, it’s been over an hour... should we start the fireworks?"
Es turned to him, her face montarily unreadable, before forcing a small, strained smile. "No... don’t worry," she said softly, her voice just above a whisper. "He’ll be here soon. I’m sure of it."
But even as she said the words, her gaze faltered, her heart sinking further into an aching silence. The candles continued to burn, flickering faintly against the darkening room, casting long shadows across the table set so carefully for two.
Another hour slipped by, the city outside alive with movent and sound, while Es sat frozen in that quiet room. She stared at the door, willing it to open, hoping for even a glimpse of the person she had poured her heart out for. But no footsteps echoed in the hallway, no familiar figure entered, and with each passing minute, the bright hope in her heart dimd, leaving only the hollow ache of disappointnt.
As the candles burned low, their light fading into the approaching night, Es sat in silence.
Es was awash with pain, an ache so deep it felt as though her heart was being sliced open from the inside. She pressed her hands to her face, hoping to smother the feeling, to dull the jagged edges of regret slicing through her. That night, she sat at the table alone, hours slipping by like shadows, her mind replaying the cruel realization over and over.
She had always believed she had a big heart, maybe too big for her own good. She had prepared herself for the chance that Cain might not feel the sa, that her love might be a little too intense, a bit too insistent. But she’d been willing to risk that, hoping the sincerity of her love would be enough. And now, seeing his absence as clearly as if it were written in bold letters, she felt her heart ripening with sorrow, each beat pressing down with unbearable weight.
As dawn crept through the window, the first pale light mingling with the fading stars, Es realized her mistake in sharp, rciless clarity. She knew she had made the biggest error of her life, and regret clenched around her like a fist. Cain hadn’t co. He didn’t even care enough to tell her plainly. She felt humiliated, not just by his indifference, but by the silence he’d left her with. She despised him, not for leaving, but for never letting her know, for allowing her to hold on, to hope, to be deceived by her own heart. She wasn’t so naive girl in love—if he had just spoken, she could have accepted it. She would have understood. But he’d left her hanging in the limbo of ambiguity, of endless, empty waiting.
That day, with bitter resolve, Es blocked his number. It felt drastic, but it was the only way she could reclaim so control, to close this Chapter and find a way to start anew. She wasn’t the kind of woman to cling to a love that wasn’t real, a love built only on her own dreams.
In the days that followed, Es beca a shadow of herself. Friends would shake their heads, whispering that she’d lost her spark, that she barely ate, barely slept. Her hunger was replaced by a gnawing hollowness that even food couldn’t touch. And though her heart felt fragile and broken, her body went on, making its demands—her stomach would rumble, her head would throb from sleepless nights, and exhaustion would press down until her eyes were heavy and aching.
Eventually, that exhaustion caught up with her, and one day, she collapsed into sleep for a solid six hours. Her body, desperate for rest, gave in fully to the weight of everything she’d been holding. But just as she began to find the faintest comfort in that sleep, her phone rang, jolting her awake.
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