“No,” Seraphine replied with an edge of finality. “It’s an arranged marriage. Luther’s not part of this.”
Aunt Monica’s silence hung heavy before she sighed. “Are you sure? After all this time, he—”
“Cares?” Seraphine interrupted, a bitter smile forming. “Caring isn’t the same as committing. If I stay, I’ll waste what’s left of my life chasing an illusion.”
The call ended, and with it, the weight of eight years bore down on her. But Seraphine didn’t waver. She had three days to sever every tie.
The next evening, Seraphine oversaw the delivery of farewell gifts to her aunt’s house. Darkness had settled over the neighborhood when a familiar figure emerged by the curb.
Luther.
Dressed sharply, his confusion was palpable as he approached the truck laden with boxes.
“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Thank-you gifts,” Seraphine replied evenly. “I’m leaving.”
His brows drew together, tension radiating from him. “Leaving? Where? Why haven’t you told me?”
“You were busy.” Her tone was clipped, her gaze unwavering. “It’s no longer your concern.”
Luther took a step closer, his presence as commanding as ever. “This isn’t like you, Seraphine. What’s going on? Who’s the guy?”