What did it matter? The idea of a family photo had been erased from her heart long ago.
Unwilling to prolong the show, she turned and left quietly, her figure retreating into the evening. The path to Belmont Villa felt longer than usual, each step heavy with unspoken resignation.
The once-vibrant wedding room, filled with traces of celebration, had been stripped of its warmth over the past few days. Hazel had meticulously worked to transform it into something cold and impersonal, a space that could have belonged to anyone.
She tossed the wedding dress near the door with little regard, its fabric pooling in a heap. Dragging out her suitcase, she began packing, her hands moving with mechanical precision.
Everywhere she looked, remnants of her time with Ambrose lingered. They had known each other for so long that nearly every item held a fragment of their shared memories.
But memories were a double-edged sword. Apart from the essentials, she decided to leave everything else behind. She wanted a clean break, a fresh start.
By the time the first rays of dawn brushed the horizon, a knock echoed through the quiet villa. The makeup artist had arrived.