“Sami, darling!” she chimed, her voice warm and melodic. “Congratulations! You’ve worked so hard. Let’s celebrate—just you and me, a proper day of shopping.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, directing the driver back to the manor to pick her up.
When I saw her waiting, anger toward Zaldy softened, replaced by a quiet warmth. Despite everything, his mother had always treated me with kindness. Being with her reminded me that I still had a place in a family somewhere in this fractured world.
We spent hours wandering the shops, chatting like companions from a simpler time, and she ensured I didn’t leave empty-handed.
While she examined a designer bag, I scrolled through my phone—and froze.
A post from Maria appeared: New York Fashion Week. Zaldy stood beside her, arm linked with hers, both smiling as if nothing in the world existed beyond the frame.
The caption read: [So glad to be here again this year, especially with someone you love.]
My chest tightened. So that was why he had skipped my graduation.
My fingers clenched the phone as Zaldy’s mother noticed my tension.
“Sami, dear, are you alright?” she asked, concern etched in her features.