A bitterness so heavy filled my chest that even breathing felt like scraping against my ribs.
I collapsed onto the bed, utterly drained. Even during that month I spent caring for his grandmother, I hadn’t felt this bone-deep exhaustion.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes forever—not to see, not to hear, not to feel.
But reality never granted such luxuries.
At six in the afternoon, there was a sudden, urgent pounding on my door.
"I’ve sent you the list of Rhea’s dietary restrictions. Check your phone and make sure you don’t miss a single detail."
Upstairs, the other maids were busy setting up Rhea’s room.
Meanwhile, I stood alone in the kitchen, preparing dishes from eighteen different regions.
I had collected these recipes long ago.
Back then, my only thought was that Justin worked so tirelessly and his sole comfort should be coming home to a warm meal.
I wanted him to relax, to feel cared for through delicious food.
But before I could ever make that happen, everything had already changed.
Laughter floated in from the living room. The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder, a tablet in hand, browsing wedding supplies.