I barely raised my eyelids, meeting his desperate gaze with a look of cold indifference. I shrugged, pushing his hands off my shoulders. “Oh, all that stuff? I noticed it was dusty, outdated, a bit… tacky. Thought I’d save you the trouble and take care of it myself.”
I turned away from him, refusing to let him see the sadness lurking beneath my anger. My heart ached as I looked around at the empty space, feeling as though something inside me had shattered.
Yet, I couldn’t say I missed any of it.
Darrel stared at me, his expression slowly shifting from anger to confusion. His voice softened, as though trying to coax me back from the edge. He tugged at my sleeve like a child pleading with his mother. “Fionna, I know I’ve been busy with work lately, but those things—those were for us, for when we finally got married. Why did you throw it all away?”
His words would have sounded touching if I hadn’t known where he’d been that afternoon. The irony was staggering. He could be standing here, begging me to understand, acting like he cared so deeply—while I knew he’d been with her just hours ago.