The Broken Engagement
I lost everything. The house that had once been a prestigious magical bloodline. My parents, who had loved me more than anyone else. In a single moment, it was all gone.
Tap.
The sound of heels on marble. My breath grew ragged, my eyes trembling with unease. My body shook with fear I could not control.
Tap.
The footsteps paid no heed to my state. They simply drew closer, steady and unyielding, until they stopped before the door. Without so much as a knock, the door swung open.
Silver hair that gleamed like fresh snow. Eyes the color of clear winter skies. Skin paler than her hair, a delicate nose, large eyes, and lips the shade of ripe cherries. She was beautiful beyond words. The kind of beauty that would make any man’s heart falter.
Yet to me, she was the most terrifying person in the world.
A meticulously planned accident. The magical talent the gods had denied me. The greedy hands of those who coveted our family’s name. All of it had been too much for a fifteen-year-old boy to bear. That was why—why I had hoped she, at least, would stay by my side. Even when I knew there was nothing left I could give her. Even when I understood that remaining with me would only bring her hardship. I had wanted her to stay. Because she was the only one I had left to lean on. Because I had believed her gentle smile would keep me from falling apart, just as it always had.
She had been the kindest, most beautiful, most compassionate person I knew. Even when everything inside me crumbled, I had hoped she would remain the same.
But—
“Let’s end our engagement.”
From the moment I lost everything. From the moment our house became vulnerable. That was all she wanted from me.
Her eyes were lifeless. Her expression cold. Her voice, once warm, now carried a chill I had never heard before. Every word drove deeper into my chest, reopening wounds and pushing me further into the abyss.
“…Is that,” I asked, forcing my trembling hands still and steadying my voice, “really what you want?”
“…Yes.”
The question had cost me everything to ask. Her answer came easily, without hesitation. When I lifted my unsteady gaze to meet hers, her eyes were clear and unwavering.
“I see.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out the document I had prepared in advance. I had known the moment I took it out that nothing between us would ever be the same again. But I no longer had any choice.
“Take it.”
The annulment papers. Proof that our relationship was finished. My signature was already scrawled across the bottom. Pathetically, even now, some foolish part of me had still been clinging to hope. The moment she recognized what the paper was, her eyes lit up and a faint smile touched her lips. That single expression drove me deeper into despair than anything else.
“Thank you.”
I watched her for a brief moment as she thanked me with genuine relief, then nodded and rose from my seat. Since my parents’ deaths, every meeting between us had been like this—cold, transactional. And now, even these would no longer exist.
“I have to survive too. I hope there are no hard feelings.”
Her words sounded as though she were already aboard a sinking ship, leaving the rest of us behind. I couldn’t suppress the bitter laugh that rose in my throat.
So that was all we had ever been to her. A means to an end. No different from the others who had circled our family like vultures.
Once I reached that conclusion, there was nothing left to grieve. Our relationship had never been built on love to begin with.
Without answering her, I opened the door to the drawing room. But I was not the one who left.
I stepped back inside, collapsed onto the sofa, and lay back, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. It was a clear dismissal. Even so, she said nothing. She simply gathered the annulment papers and quietly left the room.
How ridiculous. To have clung so desperately to something so hollow. To feel despair over the end of something that had never truly existed. I hated myself for it. I hated her for it.
And just like that, our brief yet endless relationship came to a close.