Chapter 3 3

He looked at her, blinking, before forcing a smile. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know... it's just... sometimes it feels like you're hiding something."

His expression softened, and he reached across the table, taking her hand. "Sarah, I would never hide anything from you. I love you."

The sincerity in his voice almost convinced her.

Almost.

Sarah had never felt more alive than in those days following Harry's proposal. The memory of rose petals falling like whispers around them, his eyes bright with promises of forever, and the soft weight of the ring on her finger became the lifeline she clung to as she prepared for their new beginning.

She decorated the bakery window with delicate white flowers, small cards that read Just Engaged tucked between the pastries. Customers congratulated her, and each "you're glowing" made her heart skip, believing that happiness, at last, was hers to keep.

But then, the silence came.

It began with a single day without a text, then two days without a visit. The bakery's door jingled open every morning, and she would glance up, expecting Harry, only to find strangers. Each evening, she sat at the small dining table in her apartment, phone beside her, waiting for a message that never came.

By the third day, her unease became a quiet dread.

She tried calling him, each unanswered ring another needle prick to her growing worry.

She left voicemails, her voice soft but tight, "Harry, call me back, please. I just need to know you're okay."

It had been five days since Sarah last heard from Harry. Her calls went unanswered, and his usual visits to the bakery had stopped. That wasn't like him. He was always easy to reach, always just a message away. The silence gnawed at her, a quiet worry that she couldn't shake.

Rain fell that night, heavy and relentless, drumming against the window as she curled up on the sofa in her small apartment. Her engagement ring glinted in the lamplight, a promise now feeling fragile in the hush of the storm.

Then, a sharp knock split the silence.

Sarah's heart lurched, breath catching in her throat as she scrambled to the door, the floor cold beneath her bare feet.

When she pulled the door open, she staggered back, eyes widening.

Harry stood there, drenched and trembling, rainwater dripping from his hair. His face was bruised, one eye swollen, a cut on his lip, and his usually bright green eyes were shadowed, wild with fear.

"Oh my God, Harry..." Sarah's voice cracked as she reached for him. "What happened?"

He didn't answer. For a moment, he only stared past her, rain pooling around his shoes, breathing ragged and uneven. Then, with a strangled breath, he stumbled forward.

"Come inside!" she urged, stepping aside, guiding him in with shaking hands.

Harry collapsed onto the sofa, soaked clothes clinging to his frame. Water dripped onto the floor, but neither of them cared. Sarah fetched a towel, pressing it gently to his hair, brushing it back from his forehead, feeling the tremble in his body beneath her touch.

"Talk to me," she pleaded, kneeling before him, her eyes searching his face. "Harry, please."

His gaze finally met hers, glassy and bloodshot, and for the first time since she had met him, Sarah saw something fragile, something lost.

"The company I invested in..." His voice broke, raw and hoarse. "It went bankrupt."

Sarah blinked, confusion tightening around her like a vice. "What?"

He looked away, jaw clenching. "The debt collectors... they're after me. I don't know what to do, Sarah. I tried to fix it. I tried to make everything better for us, but I-"

"How much?" she asked softly, bracing herself for the truth.

Harry's shoulders shook as he whispered, "One million dollars."

The words landed like a punch, knocking the air from her lungs. A million dollars. Her mind couldn't wrap around the number, couldn't understand how it was possible, but the terror in Harry's eyes told her it was real.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain steady even though part of her wanted to scream. "You have me, Harry," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

His gaze faltered, guilt swimming in his dark eyes. His mouth opened as if to argue, but no words came.

She reached up, cupping his face gently, tilting his head until their eyes met. "Money isn't everything. What matters is that we're together. You're my better life."

Harry's eyes filled, tears spilling over as he shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted to give you a better life. I thought... I thought I could fix everything."

Later that night, after coaxing him into eating a warm meal, Sarah handed him her savings-the small amount she had been setting aside for years, piece by piece, for their future together.

"I can't take this." Harry shook his head, his voice thick with guilt. "I've already ruined everything. I don't want to drag you down too."

She placed the money in his hands, her fingers trembling as they lingered over his. "What if it were me?" she whispered, her voice quiet but insistent. "Wouldn't you help me?"

Harry stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in, guilt pulling him under. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. "I'll pay you back. I'll make everything right." His promise was soft, distant, as though even he couldn't fully believe it.

As she treated the cuts and bruises on his face, Harry's gaze lingered on her, his silence more intense than any words.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked softly, dabbing ointment onto a bruise, her hands gentle.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You were the only person I could think of... at a time like this."

She paused, her hand hovering over his cheek for a moment before she continued. "I'm going to be your wife in a week, Harry. If I can help my husband, I should. It's in moments like these that we see who's truly good for us."

He reached up, stopping her hand, his grip firm but tender. His eyes, filled with something unspoken, held hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath brushing her skin. She had felt his kisses before, but this-this was different, heavy with everything they couldn't say.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and just as their lips almost met, he pulled away, a sharp breath escaping him. Guilt shadowed his face, and the weight of everything unsaid kept him from moving closer.

"I should go," he muttered, his voice strained, his gaze averted.

"Where are you going at this time?" Sarah asked.

"I need to go," he repeated, his voice cracking as if he were fighting back tears. He turned away, his shoulders slumping further under the invisible burden. She held his wrist.

"If we don't have a big hall, or fancy food, or guests, it doesn't matter," she said, her voice soft but steady. "What matters is that we're together. You are with me. That's what matters most."

He paused, the silence between them heavy. His eyes, full of regret, met hers for a brief, fleeting moment, but whatever she was searching for in his face, she couldn't find. Without another word, he walked out into the rain, disappearing into the night.

The next morning, Sarah arrived at the bakery, hoping to distract herself with work, only to find a stranger barring the entrance.

"This is my bakery," she said, confused. "Who are you? How did you get in?"

The man smirked, his expression dripping with disdain. "Mr. Harry sold it to me. Who are you, his secretary?"

Sarah's heart stuttered, her mind scrambling to make sense of his words. "No," she stammered, "this can't be right. I'm a partner here-I invested in this bakery. My signature is required for any sale."

The man's smirk faded, replaced by a cold glare. "Look, lady, I've got the paperwork. If you don't leave, I'll call the police."

She pulled out her phone, her hands shaking. "Let me call Harry," she said, trying to keep the rising panic out of her voice.

But when she dialed his number, the call went straight to voicemail. Her heart sank. He'd promised her everything was going to be fine, but now his phone was off. He was gone.

Determined not to jump to conclusions, Sarah hurried to the theater where Harry had performed. She asked everyone-stagehands, makeup artists, even the janitor-but each answer left her more confused than before.

"He said he's getting married, so he took the time off," one of the makeup artists said, tilting her head.

Another chimed in, "No, no, he told me he's going to the States for a big movie role."

"He's on vacation," someone else shrugged.

A knot twisted in Sarah's chest. Were they lying? Or had Harry been lying to her this whole time?

Her world tilted, reality spinning out of control as Sarah stepped into her small apartment. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The small safe in the corner-where she had tucked away every last dollar of her savings-was open, its contents emptied.

All of her cash was gone.

She stood there for a long moment, numb, as her mind raced. Only one person knew the password-Harry.

No. He wouldn't...

But the gnawing fear inside her chest told a different story. She tried calling him again, the number going straight to voicemail, the mechanical tone of rejection cold in her ear. The message she left felt hollow, a quiet plea laced with disbelief. He'll come back. He has to.

Days turned into weeks, and still, no word. Sarah went to the police, filing a missing person report, her voice cracking with the hope she clung to-hope that Harry hadn't betrayed her. That something else, something beyond her understanding, had happened.

But deep down, cracks were already forming.

The final blow came when she had no choice but to sell her engagement ring. She hadn't wanted to-it was one of the few things that still tied her to him, to the dream of a future they had imagined together. The jeweler's words hit her like a punch to the gut.

"The diamond's fake."