Chapter 8 We're Strangers
597 Words
Margaret's thoughts emptied. The words that followed dissolved into a hollow, distant drone in her ears.
Her phone hit the floor with a clatter, the screen cracking into a spiderweb of fractures—mirroring the shattering of her heart.
Outside the window, fireworks burst into life, painting the night with a glaring, romantic proclamation: Elliot loves Victoria forever.
The brilliant light washed over Margaret's tear-streaked face.
Countless sparks blossomed across the sky, yet this extravagant display felt like a blade of mockery, cutting away the last remnants of her dignity.
Her legs gave out, strength seeping from her body.
Vincent—the only person who had truly cherished and shielded her, the one she longed to care for in his old age—was gone.
And here she was, still pleading with Elliot, still being dismissed as a lying gold-digger.
Five years of waiting.
Five years of giving everything.
All of it had turned into one colossal joke.
Online, the world celebrated the love story between the Novak family heir and the Bloom family heiress.
Netizen: Congratulations to Mr. Novak on his engagement! May he and Victoria last forever!
Netizen: This year's most spectacular proposal—you two better hurry, Mom and Dad! I want to be born already!
Netizen: Finally, the fairy-tale romance we've been shipping gets its happy ending!
Netizen: I heard some village girl tried to steal Mr. Novak from Ms. Bloom. What a clown.
Netizen: What village girl? Tell us more!
Soon, photos surfaced of Elliot taking Margaret out to dinners and on trips. The internet tore into her.
Netizen: She's so far out of his league it's pathetic. She ought to take a good, hard look in the mirror.
Netizen: What a delusional nobody.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
Elliot's name flashed across the cracked screen, the letters split like everything else.
He was supposed to be with his fiancée—yet he still found time to call.
"Margaret, I hope you've reflected these past few days. Behave yourself, stop making scenes, and I'll take you out more later. For now, stay at Duskmoon Villa. Once things settle, I'll let you bring your grandfather here. We can take him to see the Aeterna Square." His tone was light, almost gentle, words slightly slurred from drink.
In the background, Victoria's cooing voice cut through. "Elliot, come dance with me! Everyone's waiting!"
The call ended abruptly.
Margaret lifted her eyes to the fireworks staining the night sky. Inside, only a barren silence remained.
Five years of waiting.
Five years of obsession.
Five years of devotion.
All of it—one utter farce.
Just then, her phone buzzed again. A text lit up the broken screen—It was the fellow villager who was leaving.
He asked: I can leave earlier tonight. Want to come with me?
Margaret pushed herself up and brushed the dust from her clothes.
No more tears.
She walked steadily to the desk, signed the contract waiting there, and left a note beneath it.
Then she tore the bedsheet, knotting it into a rope tied securely to the bedpost.
A chair swung hard against the floor-to-ceiling window.
The crash of shattering glass was swallowed by the roar of fireworks outside.
She climbed out, lowering herself along the sheet. A glass shard sliced her arm, but she barely felt it.
Once on the ground, she ran—ran until her figure melted into the darkness.
Wind slipped through the broken window, lifting the note on the desk.
It read: The debt is paid. All ties are cut. From now on, we are strangers.
- Writer
