While everything is being prepared, the sun is so friendly that it shines warmly. There were no signs of disasters or strong winds. Every staff member keeps blessing the tingling event they foresee as they work.
However, the moment the string quartet struck its first chord, the rain began to fall. But they celebrated even more, believing that even heaven had blessed the thing.
At the heart of this atmospheric setting, Callum Virell stood, caught in a whirlwind of emotion.
The marble below his feet reflected the glow of candlelight, as they gracefully danced with the wind. The candles were meticulously arranged to light a pathway of flowers, while deep in the pocket of his tailored suit, the diamond ring felt nauseous.
He stood there, heart racing with anticipation, knowing that in just a few short moments, Dahlia would arrive and fill this hollow elegance with the richness of her presence.
The longer she was absent, the more Callum gazed out at the cityscape stretching beneath the soft rain. He was incredibly skilled at planning and crafting his words in negotiations, yet tonight, despite all his known boldness, he struggled to contain his sweat.
His eyes drifted toward the elevator, eagerly envisioning Dahlia stepping out.
Dahlia had grown up as part of his family's world, and both once thought they would always remain formal. Her mother had been the head maid at the Virell estate, and Dahlia had spent her formative years navigating the shadows of his family she believed she could never fully be a part of. Yet, during the darkest chapters of Callum's life, when his own world crumbled in grief, she became his steady anchor.
He was twenty when his mother died.
Losing the woman he cared most for, Callum had struggled with a haunting sorrow that turned everything gray. But Dahlia stepped into that void, transforming his vulnerabilities into strengths, reminding him of the joy still left in life. In the face of his overwhelming grief, she guided him through his anger and silences. Little by little, without either of them quite realizing it, they had become each other's favorite.
And tonight, he was prepared to pledge an eternal journey to be continually filled with all the love they had and would nurture.
Then the elevator chimed, drawing reality to him. A wide smile spread across his face, but the moment was cut short as another familiar figure emerged, and a sinking feeling settled in his stomach.
The rainwater clung to the sharp, military cut of the woman's dark coat, casting her in a serious light. The click of her black heels split the silence as she approached.
With every passing moment, dread tightened in Callum's chest. Six years had gone by, and yet she felt oddly familiar.
Callum's gaze fell upon the object the woman carried as she stepped closer. It was a striking black silk umbrella with golden trim, a style that had always been Dahlia's favorite.
His breath caught in his throat. "Sorry," the woman spoke softly, extending the umbrella. "Dahlia can't make it tonight." Her solemn delivery felt like a bitter chill in the celebratory atmosphere.
"WHERE IS SHE?" he asked, shouting.
"She's safe," the woman replied, her expression unmoved.
"SAFE??? WHERE???" he pressed, frustration spilling over.
"You don't need to worry," she said. But the pitch of her voice was a signal crashing over him. And then, with an almost threatening undertone, she added, "Unless you were planning to make her wait too long."
An unexpected draft broke through, causing a nearby candle flame to sway precariously. The quartet faltered, but the woman turned to them and, with a confident smile that held an unsettling quality, commanded, "Play."
As if under her spell, the musicians obeyed, while Callum took the umbrella from her with a restrained hand, their fingers never connecting.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE, SERAPHINE?" he managed to ask, confusion mixing with anger. For a fleeting moment, a flicker passed across her face. But neither regret nor vengeance, but something darker.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to collect what I left behind."
Her words sparked within him. However, Dahlia's absence made him care less about her intention. Thus, Callum turned and walked away.
The ring box in his pocket felt like a cruel reminder of a future that crumbled the moment Sera appeared. He forced his way into the elevator and pressed the button hard enough to sting his finger, desperately seeking space to breathe.
Dahlia.
He knew something was terribly wrong, but knowing Seraphine, a twinge of sureness crept through him that Dahlia was safe. And that thought both comforted and terrified him.
As he arrived at the parking level, Callum kept dialing Dahlia's number, but it went unanswered. Text after text went unanswered, and the anxious ringing of his phone made him crazy.
With a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Callum felt the turmoil within. Rain pounded relentlessly against the windshield as the engine roared to life, propelling him forward into the night. Whatever awaited him ahead, he was determined to find Dahlia and ensure her safety. With every ounce of hope, he propelled himself onto the bustling street, ready to confront whatever came next.
---
Seraphine Elion remained beneath the rooftop awning, watching as Callum disappeared into the rain. For several moments, she didn't move. Then she glanced down at the space where he had stood. The dinner had been prepared for two, and she took a seat at their table.
The food had gone cold, but she ate anyway. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she asked the musicians to play a soft piece. The quartet exchanged uncertain glances before complying.
Music filled the rooftop with a beautiful but almost cruel sound. Seraphine listened until the final note faded away. She thanked the musicians, bid goodnight to the staff, and walked toward the elevator.
The car was waiting at the entrance of the Virell Tower. Seraphine slipped into the back seat, removed her gloves, and stared through the rain-streaked window as the driver pulled into the city. She gazed out the window for so long that her thoughts began to unravel.
Nine years ago, on her eighteenth birthday, she had danced with Callum. And beneath the chandeliers, where the music was loud enough to keep a secret, she signaled for him to lower his head.
"Help me convince our fathers to break the engagement," she whispered.
Callum looked at her strangely. She shook her head.
"Not because you're no good," she said, tightening her fingers around his. "But because my heart has already given itself to another. You are not written on it, but your name is engraved within my blood."
There was a pause.
"I know, we felt the same," Callum replied with a smile, agreeing to help. He left the celebration late that night. She didn't know how he did it, but her father agreed to let Lior and her be together.
However, after their graduation, her father had summoned Lior privately. There were no threats, no raised voices. There was only an offer. Within five years, Lior could either stay, leave the capital, or cross the ocean, but he must build a name for himself with the hundred million entrusted to him, and he had to do it without Seraphine.
No letters. No calls. No help from the Elion family. No interference. If he succeeded, he could return and stand beside Seraphine. If he failed, she would marry Callum Virell.
It was cruel, yet in the world she had been raised in, it was presented as fair.
Lior accepted it. She could still remember how his hands had trembled when he kissed her forehead.
"I'll come back," he had whispered before leaving.
The first year passed with secret letters hidden beneath a false bottom in her drawer. The second year brought whispers that Lior was doing well. The third year brought silence. By the fourth year, there was nothing.
As the fifth year came to an end, Seraphine begged her father for one more year. He granted her request. Not for being his daughter or out of pity, but because he saw a glass-like edge of a woman who had spent too long pretending she wasn't breaking. So he allowed her another year.
Then the sixth year arrived, and Lior was still nowhere to be found.
Now, six years later, Seraphine watched the city slide past her window. Lights smeared across the glass, blurred by the rain and speed. For a moment, she imagined the life she might have had.
But that image quickly faded. Tomorrow, she would face Callum again. Tomorrow, she would stand before the man she had once abandoned and pretend the past meant nothing. He would hate her, and perhaps he already did.
But she didn't care. There were only two things she needed from him: a marriage and a child. And perhaps, a reason to finally stop waiting.