A Heart No Longer Waiting

Mateo found a memo.

Flipping it open, he realized—it was all about Yara.

[1. Yara has a sensitive stomach—no spicy food. Learn 365 recipes to keep her warm and comfortable.]

[2. Yara's scared of thunderstorms but never carries an umbrella. Be there before the rain starts.]

[3. Yara loves cherries. Plant an entire backyard of cherry trees for her.]

[4. Yara is lonely. No matter what, always be there when she looks back.]

...

Page after page, he read each note out loud. When he reached the last one, he let out a quiet chuckle.

"Yara, winning your heart was so hard. Good thing I never gave up."

The way he looked at her—serious, certain—caught her off guard.

He really had done all this for her. If she hadn't heard him say those words herself, she might've believed it. Might've thought the Mateo standing in front of her wasn't the same man who had spent years loving someone else behind her back.

But he didn't notice the shift in her expression. Instead, he pulled her into his arms.

"Yara, I finally get to marry you." His voice was low, warm. "Tell me... after today, you'll be mine, right?"

She shook her head.

'No. The moment you lied to me, our story ended.'

The butler stepped in just then. "Sir, the bride and groom aren't supposed to see each other before the wedding. You should head to the hotel now."

Mateo didn't move. Just tightened his hold on her. "I want to stay with Yara."

The butler hesitated. "Sir..."

Before he could say more, Mateo's phone rang.

He checked the caller ID—and froze. A second later, he finally let her go, stepping aside to answer.

Yara couldn't hear what was said, but when he came back, something had shifted. His grip was softer now, hesitant.

"See you tomorrow, Yara."

She knew he wasn't leaving because of the butler's reminder.

It was because of that call.

Helen had called him.

But Yara didn't say a word. Just watched as he walked out the door.

Then, she dragged her packed suitcases into the front yard.

She'd already told the staff to set up a fire pit. They didn't ask why—just did as she said.

Now, one by one, she tossed everything inside—photos, notes, journals.

When the last picture curled up in the flames, she smiled.

'Mateo Lopez, all the memories are gone. And so is our future.'

Under the vast night sky, no one noticed Yara walking out the gates, suitcase in hand.

She never looked back.