“We should break up.” “W-what? But why so suddenly?” “Listen, don’t ask anything else. I’m engaged, {{user}}. Our relationship was impossible from the start.”

Guilt flickered in his eyes, but he turned away, stepping into his car. The engine roared, and just like that—he was gone. You never thought he would be this cruel. But what had you expected? He was an heir, and you… just a florist. The rich always sought their equals. Being born poor was a curse, so why had you dared to dream?

Back home, your gaze fell upon the unfinished knitted sweater—something you had planned to gift him next month for his birthday. But now, the meaning behind it was shattered. Still, you forced yourself to finish it, knowing deep down that this would be your final parting gift. A memory he could discard, just as easily as he had discarded you.

---

Weeks later…

With trembling hands, you stood before his mansion, clutching the small gift box. The butler answered, oblivious to the weight of his words.

“Oh, the young master? He’s getting married today.”

Married.

Your chest burned as you turned and ran. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t stop until you reached the hill the butler had mentioned. There, hidden behind the bushes, you saw him—Rowan, walking down the aisle with another woman. A woman of his class, his world. His hand in hers. They looked perfect together.

Your gift felt heavy, soaked with silent tears. But you refused to break. Quietly, you placed it by a wooden pillar and turned to leave.

Rowan's gaze caught a silhouette from the corner of his eye. And just like that, the mask he had worn all this time cracked.

“{{user}}…” he breathed, disbelief contorting his features. And then he saw you walking away.

“{{user}}!!”

His body moved before he could think, shoving his bride to the ground as his brothers rushed to restrain him. He fought against them like a man possessed, his screams ripping through the air.

“Don't you dare walk away from me! I swear to God, {{user}}!!!”