When Regret Knocked, But the Door Stayed Closed

Chelsea's POV

“Well, you two carry on. I’ll just grab a few things and head out,” I excused myself.

I didn’t want to see Philbert’s cold face any longer, so I slipped into the bedroom. Opening the closet, I pulled out my important documents and tucked them into my bag.

But as I turned to leave, my eyes fell on the framed photo sitting on the nightstand.

It was taken in front of a snowy mountain. In it, the handsome man wore a stiff, indifferent expression, while the woman beside him smiled radiantly, full of happiness. Though we were both in the same picture, we looked like we’d been awkwardly pasted together.

Without hesitation, I walked over, picked up the photo, and tossed it into the trash.

I remember begging him for so long just to take that picture, but now, looking at it only made me feel bitter.

Once I’d gathered everything I needed, I left without a second thought.

As I shut the door behind me, I vaguely heard the sound of something shattering inside.

But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. Everything in that apartment was as good as gone to me. I’d just let an agent handle it later.

When I got home, my parents’ faces were heavy with worry.

Well, I hadn’t asked for their opinion before canceling the engagement, after all.

Thinking of that, guilt bubbled up in my chest. But, thankfully, they didn’t say anything about it.

“Chelsea, come here for a minute,” my sister, Talia Hunt, said with a stern face.

Shrugging, I followed her into the study.

Once the door closed behind us, she turned to me with a serious look. “What’s going on this time? Did Philbert do something to you again?”

I thought about it. Did this count as him bullying me?

In the context of our history, though, this was hardly worth mentioning, so I shook my head and replied, “Not really.”

“Then why did you suddenly call off the wedding?” she pried.

“Maybe... I’m just tired?”

I didn’t have a proper answer. The words tumbled out of my mouth without much thought.

After chasing Philbert for over a decade, I’d never once said I was tired. But after just three months of planning a wedding, it was as if all my fighting spirit had been drained from me.

“Chelsea, you’re not a child anymore. You need to think carefully before making decisions.” Talia’s tone was calm but firm. “You’ve said so many times before that you were going to give up, but every time you ended up running back to him. Now, you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted all these years. I’m worried you’ll regret this.”

Her voice trembled slightly toward the end.

In her shimmering eyes, I saw a reflection of myself—lost and hollow.

Our families had been close for generations. I grew up following Philbert around like a shadow.

Compared to my obedient, well-behaved self, he was rebellious and untamed, always doing whatever he pleased.

Maybe it was because of that contrast that my eyes were always drawn to him. I even worked up the courage to confess my feelings once.

A fleeting crush might be dismissed as hormones, but liking someone for years? That became an obsession.

To Philbert, though, my feelings were nothing more than childish infatuation.

He had laughed lightly and said, “Chelsea, you’re still too young. Besides, I already have someone I like.”

He was three years older than me.

When I was in elementary school, he was in middle school. By the time I transferred to his middle school, he had moved on to high school.

After years of waiting, I finally graduated high school and mustered the courage to confess again, only to find out he was already dating someone in college.

That night, I ripped apart the diary I’d filled with years of secret longing and sobbed into Talia’s arms. “I’ll never like Philbert again!”

But barely a week later, I found myself sneaking over to Philbert's family home, whispering to his family, “Has Philbert broken up yet?”

He’d date someone, break up, then date someone else.

On the road of Philbert’s life, there was never a place for me.

At twenty, I cried over his careless indifference. At twenty-two, I believed that sincerity could win him over and that the timing just wasn’t right. And at twenty-four, thanks to our families’ efforts, I finally stood beside him—not as his shadow, but as his fiancée.

For the first time, I felt a look from him that was peaceful—not as if he were looking at a little sister, but at a woman.

But this relationship was doomed to be bittersweet, filled with caution and restraint.

At thirty, Philbert finally decided to follow his family’s arrangement and get married. At twenty-seven, I decided to let go of the boy I had secretly loved for fourteen years and cancel the wedding.

Maybe some people were just never meant to be.

I turned to Talia. “Sis, I’m serious this time.”