3: All Feelings Coming To An End.
(Cassie’s POV)
Violet let out a little laugh as she waved her hand to show off an expensive bracelet.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” she gushed, turning her wrist for everyone to admire.
The group of women surrounding her erupted into excited murmurs, their eyes filled with fascination.
“You‘ re so lucky,” one of them said with admiration. “Everything about you screams elegance.”
Violet smiled coyly.
“Max and Violet they do make such a beautiful pair,” someone whispered.
“I always thought she and Max would end up together,” another said softly.
Their chatter paused abruptly when they
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noticed me standing at the edge of the circle.
I simply smiled and without a word, I turned on my heel and walked away, the sound of my heels clicking against the
marble floor.
But Violet wasn’t done.
“Cassie,” she called out, following me into a quieter hallway. Her tone was light.
I stopped, turning to face her.
“You know,” Violet said with a soft laugh, “Not trying to make you jealous.” She smiled and leaned closer, her red lips. curving into a smug smile. “I’m heading out on a date tonight. My boyfriend actually makes time for me something you wouldn’t really understand, right?”
I tilted my head slightly, studying her. For a moment, I felt nothing but a dull ache where there used to be anger or pain.
“That’s nice, Violet,” I said, my voice
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calm. “I hope you have a great date.”
Her smile faltered, just slightly, as though she had expected more of a reaction.
Without waiting for her to respond, I turned and walked away. Let her have her moment, I thought to myself.
As I re–entered the party, the vibrant laughter and clinking glasses seemed to lift the ache in my chest. I wore a fake smile. on my face and walked through the party making my way to Max, who was standing among his friends, effortlessly charming the crowd.
When his eyes met mine, his expression softened.
“Cassie, are you okay?” he asked, concern in his voice as he stepped closer.
“I’m not feeling well,” I murmured, casting my gaze downward.
Without hesitation, Max turned to the
room. “I’m sorry, everyone, but we‘ 11
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have to cut the evening short, Cassie isn’t feeling her best, and I want to take her home.”
The guests murmured polite condolences, and some even wished me a speedy recovery. For a brief moment, I felt warmth toward Max. Perhaps he still cared, in his
own way.
As we made our way outside, the cool night air brushed against my skin. Max placed his hand gently on my back, guiding me toward the car.
“Do you have work tonight?” I asked softly, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.
Max hesitated, just for a split second, but it was enough for me to notice. “Of course not,” he said quickly, flashing me a reassuring smile. “I’m going to make time for you tonight, Cassie.”
His words surprised me but I nodded.
anyway.
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Then, his phone buzzed.
Max pulled it from his pocket, his face had an unreadable expression as he read the
message.
“Cassie, I-” He said looking up at me. “It’s work. I have to handle this. I’ll be
back as soon as I can.”
Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away. He got into his car
left me there.
I looked around for a taxi, but none came. I tightened my coat around me and began walking 15 km home, my heart filled with disappointment.
I finally reached home, my whole body aching as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Exhaustion draped over me like a heavy blanket, but sleep was far from my
mind.
Instead, I opened the small wooden chest tucked in the corner of our bedroom. It
was a chest filled with handcrafted gifts
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Max had given me over the past ten years.
My fingers grazed over the rough edges of a necklace he had made during one of our early vacations.
Max had promised to come back early. That promise, like so many others, had been broken. It was already until three in the morning that I heard the sound of his car in the driveway.
The door creaked open, and he stumbled. in, his tie loose, then he ruffled his hair to make it seem like he was around all night.
I watched from the shadows as he peeled off his dress shirt and flopped onto the bed. His arms reached out instinctively, pulling a pillow close.
“Cassie…” he murmured, his voice filled with surprise as his arms reached out instinctively, pulling a pillow close to him. thinking it was me.
A dry, sarcastic laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it..
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Max froze. His head snapped up. Flustered, his bleary eyes darting around until they landed on me, sitting calmly on the couch.
“Cassie? What are you doing awake?” He sat up, raking a hand through his hair.
“Didn’t I tell you not to stay up for me?”
I smiled faintly, rising from the couch and walking over to turn on the lights. The warm glow illuminated the room.
“I was awake for you,” I said simply, gesturing toward the table.
Max’s gaze followed my hand, his brows knitting together in confusion.
“These,” I said, pointing at the handcrafted gifts. “Do you remember them? You made all of these for me. Back when you didn’t need a reason to make me smile.”
His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. His fingers brushed over the clay vase, the scrapbook, the handwritten. notes tied with ribbon.
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“I can’t believe you kept all of this,” he murmured, his voice low. A nostalgic smile tugged at his lips. “I made these so long ago. I thought you would‘ ve thrown them out by now.”
I laughed, a soft, hollow sound. “Why would I? Since you became the president you always showered me with expensive gifts but they were the most precious gifts you ever gave me. They meant everything.
His grin faltered, his gaze flicking back to the table. He was stunned for a moment and became nostalgic, “I remember when I made them for you to smile back then.” He said as his face lit in remembrance.
Max chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Cassie, those were just silly little things. Look at what I give you now jewelry, designer clothes, everything you could ever want. Surely, these don’t compare.”
I smiled at him, but it didn’t reach my
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eyes. “You‘ re right, Max,” I said softly.
“They don‘ t compare.
I thought to myself, “It’s time to throw them away forever. Just like the feelings I had for him.”
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