Seven Years of Love Disappeared with the Wind

I packed my things, determined to leave immediately, as the sun dipped below the horizon. As I lugged my suitcase out, I unexpectedly ran into Maurice on his way home. He glanced at me and the scattered remnants of my wedding dress, instinctively frowning. "Stella, what's going on now?" I looked at him incredulously. The one who had fled was him, yet he seemed to have forgotten in just a few hours. "I'm not causing a scene. I just think being with you is pointless. If you don't want to marry me, then let's not." I spoke calmly, burying all my grievances deep down, pretending it didn't matter at all. Maurice, aware of his guilt, softened his tone. "Stella, I know I messed up today, but you know Cara has depression. I couldn't just watch her end her life." Yes, Maurice's childhood friend had been struggling, and hearing about his wedding had pushed her to the brink. I forced a smile and locked eyes with him. "If Cara threatens suicide at the next wedding, you'll leave me behind again, won't you?" Maurice fell silent. Because he would go. he could never let go of Cara Simpson. The air grew thick with tension as I waited for his response, just like I'd waited for him to return to me. But he didn't return to the wedding. After what felt like an eternity, I managed a sarcastic smile. "Maurice, let's break up. I set you free. You don't have to choose between me and Cara anymore." My words were crystal clear, yet his expression hardened. "Stella, take that back. I'll pretend I didn't hear it. You can throw a tantrum, but I'll arrange the wedding again. I promise there I won't leave you there a next time." I felt suffocated; preparing for another wedding meant facing more humiliation. His promises meant nothing to me. It seemed Maurice had grown accustomed to being in control; his pride wouldn't let him release me. For once, I found the patience to reason with him. "Maurice, put away your pride. I'm not your dependent. Our love was meant to be free. You don't get to decide if I stay or go." I had never been so cold with him before. He looked at me in shock, but his expression soon shifted to an anger I couldn't understand. He almost gritted his teeth and said, "You'll regret this, Stella!" I scoffed, my steps firm as I silently affirmed my choice. He didn't stop me as I walked out, but I heard the sound of glass shattering behind me.

I dragged my suitcase back to my studio, where I was temporarily staying. After graduating from university, Maurice had initially hoped I would join his company. However, with my parents' support, I insisted on starting my own fashion studio. Thanks to my fashion design degree and a minor in business administration, I managed to run it smoothly. Even while I was with Maurice, I never gave up on my career. Now, I was glad I stuck to it. At least I had a place of my own to retreat to after our breakup. Exhausted from the past few days, I slept deeply that night. The next morning, with everything carefully planned, I took my design drafts to the company we collaborated with. On the way there, I noticed the curious stares from people who passed me, as if they were wondering whether I had spent the night crying over yesterday's events or how long it would take for Maurice and me to reconcile this time. Once in the meeting room, I confidently presented my designs and the concepts behind them. The admiration in everyone's eyes restored my confidence. Unfortunately, my design was rejected, and they chose someone else. Just as I wondered who could be so talented, I caught a glimpse of Cara in my peripheral vision. Of course, it was her Noticing me looking, Cara walked over, slipping her arm through mine with an overly familiar smile. "Stella, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I didn't expect things to get so out of hand. "You know, I only feel at ease when Maurice is with me when I'm not feeling well." In the past, I would have lost my temper, but now I just smiled indifferently. "No worries. I understand." For a moment, the smile on Cara's face froze, but she quickly regained her composure and waved to someone behind me. "Maurice! I think Stella is upset because of me. Why don't we take her out for dinner to make up for it?" She acted so innocent, already positioning me as an outsider, which made her behavior seem almost childish and ridiculous. Maurice's cool eyes flickered with a trace of hope. "Stella, I might have said some harsh things yesterday. A new French restaurant just opened on West Street. How about we try it together?" I knew Maurice was trying to make peace. Early in our relationship, we hadn't argued for years, until Cara returned to the country a year ago. Since then, she had been the source of our arguments. After each fight, Maurice would act as if nothing had happened, and I would foolishly forgive him, allowing him to take me for granted. But not this time. I wouldn't go back. "Maurice, I thought I made myself clear last night. We've broken up. There's no need for dinner." Cara's eyes widened in shock, though the glimmer of triumph was hard for her to hide. "Stella, are you serious?" "Yes. We've broken up. It's over." I repeated it, as if reminding myself as much as telling them. Maurice's expression turned cold, his gaze sharp. "Stella, don't act like a child." I was caught off guard by his accusation, unsure what I had said that made him think I was being unreasonable. Before I could respond, a familiar voice interrupted from behind me. "My apologies, Mr. Christy, but Stella already has plans."

Startled, I turned around, and a wave of joy washed over me. "Lawrence..." He gave me a reassuring smile and stepped beside me, offering quiet support for my weary self. "Already found someone new, Stella? That was quick," Maurice said, his voice laced with a hint of anger. "I have a childhood friend, too, Mr. Christy." I replied, stressing his name as a way to draw a line between us. "Ah, just like us, Maurice," Cara added with a sweet smile, clearly trying to draw a parallel between her and Lawrence. But Maurice didn't respond to her. His eyes were fixed on me, cold and unrelenting. I ignored him, slipping my arm through Lawrence Wilde's, straightening my back, and walking away with my head held high. Only when we were alone did I finally relax, stopping in my tracks as tears blurred my vision. "Lawrence, I..." "Don't worry, Stella. I'm here." Lawrence gently pulled me into his arms, and my face pressed against his warm chest. The steady beat of his heart was soothing, providing a comfort I desperately needed. My tears soaked his shirt, and I realized that while my feelings for Maurice had withered, they wouldn't vanish overnight. I told myself it wasn't worth the pain, yet my chest ached with an unbearable sorrow. I could face Maurice without flinching, but standing before a childhood friend like Lawrence, all my defenses crumbled. Lawrence stroked my hair with a tenderness that seemed uncharacteristic of him. "Stella, sorry that I was late. If I'd known you were going through this, I would've knocked him out earlier." I wiped my tears and looked up at Lawrence's indignant expression, breaking into a smile despite myself. "Next time, you better give him a good punch." Lawrence and I had grown up together, our childhood filled with the playful bickering of two close friends. But before anything more could develop, he had left to study abroad. At first, we stayed in touch, sharing everything, but that changed when I started dating Maurice. Our communication became sparse. Even when I sent him an invitation to my wedding, his only response had been a terse "Okay." In hindsight, I was relieved he hadn't come. That disastrous scene had been humiliating enough to leave my parents furious. I had barely managed to send them off on a flight, saving them from further embarrassment. My wedding was not a glorious thing, and I didn't want Lawrence to see it. Lawrence drove us to a cozy diner, where he ordered a table full of my favorite dishes. The irony wasn't lost on me. After all, it had never been me who enjoyed French cuisine. That was all Cara, who had spent years living in France. I smiled bitterly, silently vowing to forget Maurice.

The collaboration I was determined to secure fell into Cara's hands. After breaking up with Maurice, my sense of belonging in this city faded even more. I decided to close my studio and move to a new city, hoping for a fresh start. When my parents heard about my decision, they were thrilled and quickly started looking for a new place for me. Lawrence was there to help me through it all. As we packed up the large studio, I felt a twinge of sadness. "Stella, it's okay. You can continue your career in Bery City; your talent can't be taken away," he comforted, After many years apart, he'd been more mature. For days, I busied myself with the move, thinking of Maurice less and less. Half a month later, I finally settled into my new place found by my parents. Seeing Lawrence sweating from the effort, I hurried to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and handed to him. Our fingers brushed, and I felt an unexpected spark. After a moment of daze, something awakened inside me, and I swallowed unconsciously. Just then, music played softly in the background, and when Lawrence looked at me, I hurriedly looked down, clearing my throat to hide my fluster. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Annoyed with myself, I answered the ringing phone without even checking the name. "Stella, where have you been?" Maurice's voice came through, instantly dispelling any pleasant thoughts. Frustrated, I replied flatly, "What's up?" He pressed on, his tone tense. "Stella, you moved without telling me? Do you still consider me your boyfriend?" His high-handed tone transported me back to darker times. I lowered my gaze, my mood darkening. "Maurice, we're broken up. You're not my boyfriend anymore, and I can go wherever I want now. I don't owe you an explanation." He ignored my words, insisting I was just sulking. "You shouldn't be so angry. There's nothing between Cara and me. She is just my neighbor's sister. "She did ask me for the collaboration. But it was just business. It was not a big deal. I can find you another collaboration opportunity. Why are you so upset? "And if there were anything between us, we would have been together long ago. What are you so worried about?"

Disappointment was all I felt. I had poured my heart into the project. If I was eliminated because of my lack of ability, I would be willing to accept it. I never expected the reason for my failure to be such a ridiculous one. Even after leaving the city, Maurice carried on as if nothing had changed, oblivious to his faults. Perhaps he knew it would upset me but simply didn't care. I remembered the last time I celebrated his birthday. After a month of preparation, I designed a beautiful dress and invited friends to his party. Everyone showed up except the guest of honor. As I exchanged awkward glances with his friends, one handed me their phone, showing a photo of Maurice and Cara together, candles lit between them with the caption: [Of course, birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the most important people.] I couldn't hold back my tears, consumed by that phrase: the most important person. If Cara was the most important person to him, then what did I mean to him? Friends discreetly left, and I waited until the early hours of the morning for Maurice to finally arrive. He glanced around at the decorations, looking uncomfortable. "You're wasting your time on all this." That night, we argued fiercely, and he repeated the same excuses. "Cara is just my neighbor's sister. We've known each other for years. And if there were anything between us, we would have been together long ago." I was tired of his poor excuse. Seeing my distress, Lawrence, who had been quiet, grabbed the phone from me. "Mr. Christy, no one believes your words. I've liked Stella since we were kids. "If she hadn't been led astray back then, you wouldn't even have a chance." This sudden confession of love left me dazed. For a moment, everything around me faded away, leaving just the warmth of Lawrence's presence, like a refreshing breeze on a summer day. Maurice shouted something on the other end, but I barely heard. All I could think about was Lawrence's admission. "I've liked Stella since we were kids." Noticing my gaze, Lawrence showed a rare blush. He ended the call and turned to me, his eyes shining like stars. "Stella, I..." My heart raced like a seed sprouting after years. "You don't need to feel burdened. You don't have to respond to me." Seeing my silence, Lawrence looked worried, a hint of panic in his expression. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you, and it hurt to see you with someone else. If you are happy, I would be happy for you. But Maurice is a bastard! "The scene I dreamt of—he casually threw it away for another woman. "When I thought of you being hurt, I flew back from abroad. If I were the one marrying you, I would wake up smiling every day." He tried to release my burden, but the way he fumbled, helpless and uncertain, spoke more deeply than any words ever could. "You fool..." I choked back tears, feeling a wave of unexpected comfort.

I was organizing the rejected sketches when Lawrence occasionally complimented me and shared some important news. He had known since childhood that I loved fashion design, so he studied in Paris and made a name for himself there. Now, as the head of the domestic branch, he was preparing to host a fashion week and could nominate one contestant. "Stella, I can only put you forward for the competition. To maintain its credibility, the rest is up to you." My studio had gained some recognition in Arico, leaving a mark on many even after relocating. That evening, I chose to stay at the studio. Lawrence hesitated for a moment, then looked at me with hopeful eyes. "Stella, my apartment isn't ready yet, and my parents' house feels far. Could you let me stay here, just this once?" His voice trailed off to a whisper. I couldn't help but smile; Lawrence, who had always wanted to shield me, looked adorably vulnerable. "Alright, you can stay," I replied. Joy lit up his eyes, filled with deep affection, wrapping around me like warm water. As I lay on the studio bed, I gazed out at the bright moon hanging quietly in the sky. The moon was watching me, yet it never disturbed my life. That calming tranquility made me glance at the silhouette on the couch. When I remembered that the sheets were chosen by Lawrence, it ignited a warmth within me. I drifted into a sweet dream. The next morning, I woke to the sound of the doorbell. Looking around, I realized Lawrence was gone. Assuming he had forgotten his keys during his morning jog, I rubbed my tangled hair and opened the door. Suddenly, someone grabbed my wrist, pushing me into the living room and pinning me against the couch where Lawrence had slept. I snapped to attention, shocked to see Maurice standing there. "Maurice, have you lost your mind? Let me go!" My protests fell on deaf ears as he held me firmly, immobilizing me. Maurice looked disheveled, with bloodshot eyes and a scruffy jaw, his suit wrinkled. I had never seen him so unkempt, nor with such frenzied determination. "Stella, I haven't lost my mind. Come back home with me."