Stamped, But Not Real

Vincent's phone lit up on the coffee table.

The ringtone—custom, just for one person—blared through the silence.

Serena hesitated, then stepped toward it.

Before she could get there, something wet slammed into her.

Her shin cracked against the corner of the table, pain shooting up like fire.

Vincent—the culprit—didn't even look back.

He grabbed his phone and disappeared into the bathroom.

Serena limped to the couch, breath shaky.

From behind the door came his voice, low and tense, trying to sound chill—but it wasn't.

"Don't be scared. Stay in your room. I'm coming right now."

Bitterness surged up in her chest.

Six years, and Vincent had always kept his cool around her.

But one phone call and he cracked.

So that was it—he wasn't cold. He just didn't care.

Vincent came out of the bathroom, still looking rattled.

Didn't even stop.

"Something came up at work. Don't wait for me."

He didn't notice the girl who used to hand him his coat, who always told him to come home early, didn't say a thing this time.

Didn't even look at him.

Serena sat on the couch, frozen.

When the sting in her leg finally dulled, she got up and headed to the bedroom.

Time to pack.

The couple's mugs—hers chipped, his never touched.

The rings she made but never gave him.

That charm bracelet she made for the wedding.

The scrapbook—pages of memories she'd written, decorated, loved.

Straight into the trash. No hesitation.

Two hours later, half the room was empty.

Just as she exhaled, her phone buzzed.

Arya's voice came through, bright and wired.

"Serena! I just woke up overseas and saw your message—so pumped you're joining! I'll be back in a week, then it's Seavora time. But... didn't you say you were getting married? Your boyfriend cool with you leaving?"

Serena paused.

After six years with Vincent, barely anyone even knew they were a thing. He hated attention.

It wasn't until three days ago, when Arya brought up the studio, that she'd mentioned the wedding.

Funny how fast everything crumbled.

Her voice stayed steady.

"It's fine. The wedding's off."

Vincent froze in the doorway.

His eyes flashed—panic, sharp and sudden.

"What do you mean, the wedding's off?"

Serena flinched at his voice but recovered quick.

"A friend had something come up. So, wedding's canceled."

He didn't push.

"Didn't you want couple photos for your birthday? The photographer called. We can go tomorrow."

Her instinct screamed no.

But before she could answer, his gaze swept the room and landed on the now-empty table.

"Were you cleaning? Kinda feels like half the stuff's missing."

She nodded, cool and collected.

"Yeah. We weren't using it. No point keeping clutter."

For some reason, that hit Vincent weird.