The End of a Hidden Love Story

Declan stood there, holding a bouquet of red roses. Yet, his face showed not the faintest trace of guilt.

After a pause, he said, "Scarlett, these are for you. Your favorite red roses."

I took the flowers from him and brought them to my nose. I used to love the scent, but it made my stomach turn instead.

Declan stared at me. After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"Scarlett, Beatrice… has stomach cancer. The doctors say she doesn't have much time left. Her dying wish is to marry me. So…"

He hesitated for a moment. Then, he continued, "I'm getting engaged to her in three days. You've always been so empathetic. I know you'll understand my reasons, right?"

I looked at him. He suddenly felt like a stranger. Was this really the man I had loved for five years?

Still, I nodded slightly. "Okay."

A flicker of surprise crossed Declan's face. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

Then again, he used to say I was reckless, immature, and too possessive. I'd get upset any time a woman approached him. He claimed that I wasn't like other girlfriends—calm and understanding.

So, of course, he was surprised I didn't even get angry about him getting engaged to someone else.

Maybe he realized he had gone too far, because he kept explaining. "Scarlett, I knew you'd understand. Don't worry. Once this is over, we'll get married. Beatrice only has a month or two left."

I looked down at the roses in my hand, and a dull ache tugged at my chest.

"Okay." I nodded again without the slightest hesitation.

Declan's gaze lingered on me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Thank you, Scarlett."

Then, he stepped closer and reached for my face.

I pretended to put the flowers in a vase, just to avoid his touch.

Just hours ago, he had been holding Beatrice Porter's hand. I didn't want those same hands touching me.

On top of that, the smell of her perfume still clung to him, and it made me want to pull away.

Declan looked at me, clearly sensing my resistance. His brow furrowed in irritation as he called out, "Scarlett?"

After all, I had never once pushed back against him in all these years.

"I'm tired," I said simply. "I need to rest."

I kept my head down and walked straight to the bedroom without looking at him.

Meanwhile, Declan stood there, staring at my retreating figure. All at once, his temper flared up.

"Why are you giving me an attitude? Didn't I tell you? Beatrice doesn't have much time left. Can't you just try to be a little more understanding?" he snapped.

With that, he turned and stormed out.

As the door closed, I looked around the empty room. To my surprise, all I felt was calm.

I threw the red roses into the trash to accompany the cake Declan bought. Then, I began to pack.

Over the past five years, I had filled the entire house with things I'd bought. However, now that I had gone through it all, I realized I didn't have much worth keeping. I threw all the clothes, shoes, and bags into the trash.

As for the memories we shared, I didn't want them either.