Leaving on a Summer's Day

After hanging up the phone, Heather didn't head straight to the manor. Instead, she returned home.

The 1,000-square-foot apartment, meticulously decorated over the years by her and Mitchell, exuded warmth and comfort rather than feeling cavernous.

She had once believed this place would always be their home—a sanctuary for them both. But after discovering Mitchell's betrayal last night, it was clear it no longer held that meaning.

The diamond rings meant to be exchanged on their wedding day in two weeks had already been delivered into her hands. These matching rings were something Heather had watched Mitchell design, stroke by careful stroke. She remembered how Mitchell had held her close as he eagerly explained the design.

"These rings have hidden grooves," he had said, his eyes full of hope. "When placed together, they form a heart—symbolizing that we'll never be apart."

Heather shook off the memory and, without hesitation, retrieved the rings before dialing a number.

"Hello, I'd like to schedule a delivery…"

Since Bethany would be replacing her as the bride, these rings, with all their symbolic weight, should naturally go to her.

After arranging for the rings to be delivered at 9:00 AM on the wedding day, Heather watched the courier leave with them. A faint sense of relief settled in her chest.

The apartment was filled with countless memories of her love for Mitchell. Before leaving, she resolved to restore everything to the way it was before she had ever been there.

-

When Heather arrived at the manor, the redness around her eyes had yet to fade. Vanessa Bennett, Mitchell's mother, noticed her red eyes as she walked in. Glancing behind her, Vanessa seemed puzzled when she didn't see Mitchell.

"Why are you crying? Did Mitchell upset you?"

Heather didn't know how to share her pain. No matter how kind Vanessa was to her, she would still choose her own son in the end. Forcing a smile, Heather adjusted her expression.

"No, the wind outside was strong, and it irritated my eyes."

She rubbed her eyes, wiping away stray tears in the process. Once again, Heather appeared as she always did.

Vanessa sighed in relief and chuckled. "If Mitchell mistreats you, you have to let me know. I'll straighten him out."

Not long after Heather's arrival, Mitchell's car pulled into the underground garage. When Vanessa realized he hadn't come upstairs, she asked Heather to fetch him.

In the garage, Heather spotted the only car with its lights still on. Mitchell was sitting inside, a cigarette in his hand, his eyes fixed intently on his phone screen. He didn't notice her approach.

"You're teasing me dressed like that. Looks like you don't plan on getting out of bed tomorrow," he growled.

"This is a special treat for you. It won't last forever, so don't miss out tonight," Bethany replied coyly.

Mitchell uttered under his breath, "Wait and see how I handle you tonight."

After hanging up, he lit one cigarette after another, as if trying to suppress the desire coursing through him.

This was a side of Mitchell Heather had never known—the man she had believed loved her wholly and deeply could split his affections so effortlessly and passionately.

Watching him from the shadows, Heather felt her stomach churn violently as she bit back a bitter smile. When she heard the car's engine being turned off and saw Mitchell put out his cigarette, she hurriedly got out of the garage before he opened the door.

When they returned upstairs, one after the other, the housekeeper was setting the table for dinner. Vanessa frowned at Mitchell.

"What took you so long? Heather had to go downstairs to call you up."

Mitchell froze, his expression instantly tense as he turned to Heather.

"You came to find me?" he asked, his voice tight.

Heather met his gaze calmly. "Yeah, but when I saw you on the phone, I left. Why?"

Mitchell stared at her, the tension in his expression not easing. "Did you hear who I was talking to?"

Heather felt a wave of irony wash over her but kept her face unreadable. "No. Wasn't it a client? Who else would it be?"

Her steady gaze held his, and Mitchell's stiff demeanor relaxed. He smiled warmly, the way she had always known, and gently ruffled her hair.

"No, it wasn't a client. I've been arranging a custom set of jewelry for you to wear at the charity gala next week. That was the jeweler calling. I must make sure you're the most dazzling person in the room when you're with me."

Heather remembered how Mitchell would, through Bennett Corporation, occasionally organize charity galas in her name after she was rescued years ago.

He donated all the funds raised through a foundation under her name, hoping to bring her good luck. Back then, his sincerity had deeply moved her.

Now, her response was devoid of emotion. "Do as you see fit."

-

After dinner, Vanessa brought out an exquisite wooden box. She opened it to reveal a diamond bracelet, which she placed on Heather's wrist.

"This bracelet has been passed down to the Bennetts' daughters-in-law. Finally, it's your turn to wear it," Vanessa said warmly, her gaze shifting between Heather and Mitchell with a motherly smile.

The sparkling diamonds accentuated Heather's slender, fair wrist, but she couldn't bring herself to appreciate it. Forcing a polite smile, she took the bracelet off and returned it to the box.

"I really appreciate the gesture, Mrs. Bennett, but such an important gift should wait for the wedding day."

Her firm tone left Vanessa with no choice but to agree to present it again at the ceremony.

Noticing how often Mitchell checked the time, Heather seized the opportunity to leave early.

-

On the way home, a sharp pain in her abdomen reminded her that her period had arrived early. Back at the apartment, Mitchell brought her hot water and personally helped her soak her feet, removing her shoes and socks with practiced care.

Staring at his head as he kneeled before her, Heather felt her heart twist painfully.

If he had already fallen out of love, why could he still act like this? Why was he still so gentle, so familiar, so perfect? It turned out that one could pretend to be in love.

Later, as they lay in bed, Mitchell placed a warm hand on her abdomen, soothing her discomfort.

Heather pretended to be asleep, but she knew the reason he was being so tender tonight—it was to lull her into slumber. Yet sleep eluded her.

When his phone buzzed twice softly, she felt him grab his own phone. His breathing quickened, and his hand pressed a little harder against her.

Satisfied when her breathing evened out, Mitchell crept out of bed, changed his clothes, and hurried out the door.

Standing by the window, Heather watched his car disappear into the night, her nails digging into her palms until the pain finally registered.