Cassia drank too quickly. The moment the champagne hit her stomach, a crimson flush spread across her neck and chest.

Damian’s brow tightened, his gaze deep and dark.

That strange, unsettling feeling flickered in his heart again.

But he couldn’t grasp it. His tone sharpened slightly. “Cassia, mind your composure.”

Cassia hadn’t eaten dinner. Though the champagne wasn’t strong, a sharp, twisting pain began to bloom in her stomach.

She handed the empty glass back to a server and muttered, “Excuse me.”

Clutching her chest, she hurried to the restroom.

After the burning sensation subsided, Cassia didn't return to the main hall. She went up to the second-floor balcony to feel the wind on her face.

The night sky was dotted with stars. Looking at them, Cassia was suddenly reminded of a night long ago.

She was just a little girl then, having suddenly lost her father and been left by her mother. She would often hide away to cry alone.

Damian always found her, holding her in his arms and comforting her.

One time, she finally opened up to him. “Uncle, is it because I’m not good enough? Is that why Mom and Dad don’t want me anymore?”

Damian shook his head, his expression serious. “That’s not it at all.”

He pointed to the brightest star in the sky. “Your dad was a hero, Cassia. So God gave him a reward: a tour of the entire universe. See that one? That’s your dad.”

“As for your mom, she misses your dad so much. The pain of that longing is the hardest thing to bear, so she had to find a place of peace.”

“Would you want your mom to be happy and free from worry, or to live in pain?”

Cassia sniffled. “I want Mom to be happy.”

Damian nodded. “And as for you, my Cassia,” he said, “you don’t have to be a good girl. Your uncle just wants you to be safe and happy. You don’t have to worry about anyone else. Just do what you want to do.”

His gentle voice seemed to drift past her ear on the wind.

A shiver ran through Cassia’s body, and her vision blurred with tears.

She wiped them away, telling herself: *This is the last time I’ll be sad over Damian Blackwood.*

All those beautiful memories… she would treat them as a fleeting dream.

At ten o'clock, the party ended.

Cassia rode back to the townhouse in Damian’s car. But not long after she lay down, a fever took hold of her.

In a daze, she instinctively reached for the prayer beads Damian had gotten for her.

She fumbled for a long time before she remembered with a jolt—she had burned them.

She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness, thinking that those beads really had kept her safe.

But since she had decided to leave, she shouldn’t rely on Damian for anything anymore, including his beads.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself up, found the butler for a couple of fever reducers, and went back to her room.

Countdown: 13 days.

She slept through the night.

When she woke up the next morning, her fever was gone.

The memory of the burning heat that had consumed her felt like a dream.

Perhaps this was the universe’s way of telling her that from now on, she could rely on herself.

Pulled from her thoughts, Cassia suddenly heard a commotion outside.

She got dressed and walked out to see Vivienne standing in the courtyard, directing the staff to rip out all the pink forget-me-nots by their roots.

Cassia froze.

The meaning of pink forget-me-nots was "eternal love." She had planted them on her 18th birthday to tell Damian she would always love him, that she could wait a lifetime for him to love her back.

Now, the courtyard was a scene of devastation. Most of the flowers were gone.

The roots, seven years deep, tore up the soil as they were yanked from the ground, leaving a landscape of ruin.

It looked just like her love for Damian—a years-long entanglement, now trampled and discarded.

“Cassia.” Vivienne called her name softly, walking over with a smile. “I’ve officially moved in today. From now on, we’re family. I hope you’ll look out for me.”

A lump formed in Cassia’s throat. “What’s happening to these flowers?”

“Oh, these?” Vivienne feigned a shy expression. “Your uncle said white roses suit me, so we’re redoing the garden… Oh dear, were these flowers planted by you? I had no idea… Please, you mustn’t be angry!”

Hearing this, Cassia’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. She wanted to ask: *You had no idea?*

They had been friends for ten years, since high school.

She had told Vivienne everything—her love for Damian, every single thing she had ever done for him.

And now she was claiming ignorance?

Cassia looked down, a self-mocking smile touching her lips. She truly had no idea when this friendship had been eaten away by termites.

“I’m not angry,” she replied, collecting herself. “I was planning to get rid of these flowers anyway.”