The Chapter When Love was Gone

She woke to the warmth of a palm against her cheek. Blinking her eyes open, she saw Cassian.

For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming—her vision still hazy.

He gently brushed the tears from her face, his brows knit in concern.

"What were you dreaming about? Why are you crying like that?"

And that was when Winter knew she was awake, because the Cassian in her dreams never wiped her tears. He only looked at her with that same cold detachment.

She turned away from his hand, brushing the tears off herself.

"It’s nothing. I don’t even remember."

Cassian stared at his empty palm for a beat, thrown off.

Then, he unzipped his suitcase and pulled out a scarf.

"You’ve always loved tie-dye from this brand, right? I brought this back for you. Do you like it?"

One glance told her it was a cheap print, not real tie-dye.

There was a time she had believed he simply didn’t know any better—that he didn’t understand her tastes.

Now she knew he just didn’t care enough to try.

In the past, she would have teased him for it, maybe even mock-threatened him to bring the real thing next time.

But that spark was gone. If he couldn’t bring her what she loved, she would go see it for herself.

She took the scarf, offering a small, polite smile. "Thanks."

The word seemed to catch him off guard. A strange, cool distance settled between them, one that made him uneasy.

And if she truly loved tie-dye so much, how could she not notice it was fake?

He had braced himself for her to playfully scold him, maybe even throw a pillow his way, but she did nothing.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, his phone chimed, right as she spoke.

"Why are you back so early?"

He typed a quick reply and then ruffled her hair with a smile.

"Because today’s the end of the cooling-off period. If we miss it, we’ll have to reapply."

"I didn’t want my mistake to hold you up, so I wrapped up work and came back sooner."

Her breath caught. A faint sting burned behind her eyes.

She lowered her head, hiding the flicker of hope she didn’t want him to see. Her half-smile was tinged with ache.

Of course, he hadn’t come back early because he missed her. It was because of the divorce.

Winter took a slow, steady breath before finally lifting her head. "Let’s go."

Cassian’s fingers froze mid-typing. He glanced at her, sensing something was off, though he couldn’t quite name it.

The shrill ring of his phone broke the moment. He silenced it and walked toward the living room.

When Winter emerged, she found him carefully plucking the strawberries off a small cake.

It was a habit he had picked up after marrying Yvonne. Every time he came home to see her, he would bring her one of these little cakes.

Once, she had thought it was a romantic gesture. Now she understood it was a silent apology.

Cassian said apologetically when he saw her coming. "Winter, I was in a rush. All I could grab was a strawberry cake. I picked off the strawberries so you could have it."

She shook her head gently. "Don’t bother. Let’s just go."

The truth was, she had never liked these cakes and she was allergic to strawberries.

Worse still, she had spotted this exact box sitting in the villa’s fridge yesterday.

She wondered how many times she had been handed leftovers from someone else’s table, but now the thought alone made her stomach turn.

Without another glance at Cassian, she walked to the door first.

He felt that strange distance once again. The woman who used to cling to him like a little puppy was suddenly acting cold and indifferent.

As he followed her out, ready to ask what was wrong, he stopped short. A row of cardboard boxes lined the hallway.

At first, he thought they belonged to someone else. But the longer he looked, the more familiar the contents became.

His chest tightened as he turned to her. "You packed all this? Why are you throwing so much away?"

She answered evenly, "Just some things I don’t need anymore. Cassian, I'm actually planning to—"

Before she could finish, her words were cut short by his phone ringing again.

The rest of the sentence—I'm actually planning to leave Melbourne—stayed lodged in her throat.

Watching his back while he answered the call, her eyelashes trembled. She wouldn’t tell him about it, then. Let it be a surprise.