No wedding photos. No marriage certificate. No officiant.
And no bride.
After hanging up, Hazel stood up, her hand steady as she grabbed a marker and slashed “Wedding Photoshoot” off her calendar.
Ambrose’s work always consumed him, and Hazel had always been careful not to disturb him, especially when he was busy. While she’d been planning the wedding, she’d bought a special wish calendar, pouring her dreams into it. Each event was a marker of hopes she longed to fulfill, one last grand gesture for a once-in-a-lifetime occasion.
Now, those dreams were swallowed by thick, regret-laden strokes of ink, leaving nothing but a void of unspoken sorrow.
With a deep sigh, Hazel glanced around the room, the glaring red of wedding decorations mocking her every move. It had taken her the entire day to strip the room of its once carefully arranged decor.
By evening, however, Ambrose's name was everywhere.
“To win a smile from his beloved, the CEO spends 8 million on a vintage pearl brooch.”
The photo was grainy, but the woman beside Ambrose was assumed to be Hazel.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. So, this was where all the money that was supposed to be for their wedding had ended up.