To My Childhood Sweetheart, See You Never

As Wendy's birthday approached, Grayson finally returned in haste, organizing a grand celebration in her honor.

When she descended the staircase in her gown, he was already waiting below. She cast him a glance, her eyes unusually calm—too calm. It was a quietude that bordered on unsettling.

Grayson's heart skipped a beat. The image of Wendy that lived in his memory was one of unrestrained brightness, of spirited vitality. But the woman before him now was a shadow of that, her complexion pale, her gaze hollow and devoid of its usual spark.

Acting on instinct, he stepped forward, arms reaching to pull her into an embrace, but she sidestepped with a slight turn of her body. Her voice was hoarse, a brittle thread barely holding itself together. "I've been feeling unwell lately. Better you don't touch me—wouldn't want you catching anything."

Her words hung in the air, brittle and impenetrable, as she walked past him, not sparing a glance at the hand he'd left suspended in midair.

Through the entire evening, Wendy played her role as an outsider looking in. She stood at the periphery of the celebration, watching Grayson put on his familiar act: his declarations of love, his gestures of devotion.

The climax of the evening arrived with his gift, as it did every year. Each birthday, Grayson spared no expense, presenting her with something rare, singular, and dazzling. This time, it was a necklace—a piece of royal lineage from Europe, priceless and unique.

The moment he revealed it, the room filled with gasps of awe. But Wendy barely glanced at it, lowering her eyes to veil the irony flashing within. She did not lift her hand to accept the necklace when he offered it.

Grayson, undeterred, assumed her reluctance stemmed from illness. Gently, he fastened the necklace around her neck himself, announcing the end of the party earlier than planned to escort her back to rest.

But as soon as they reached the car, his phone buzzed. One glance at the screen, and his expression shifted to a mask of polite regret. "Baby, something's come up. I need to handle it. You head home first, alright? Rest well, and I'll be back soon."

She merely nodded, her face an unreadable calm.

With her tacit approval, he kissed her lightly, then stepped out of the car. But no sooner had he left than her phone buzzed with a message from Rita.

Rita: [Follow him. There's a surprise waiting for you.]

Wendy stared at the message for a long moment. Eventually, she instructed the driver to turn the car around and follow Grayson's.

It didn't take long. His car stopped in front of Rita's villa. The urgency in his movements was palpable; he didn't even bother shutting the car door before rushing inside.

Wendy's clenched grip on her phone tightened as she stepped out. The villa's door had been carelessly left ajar. Slowly, she pushed it open.

What greeted her was another birthday party.

But this one wasn't hers.

Inside the villa, the scene was surreal. Guests filled the room, laughing and toasting. Rita stood at the center, radiant and poised. By her side was Grayson. Among the crowd were Grayson's closest friends, even his parents.

Wendy's rational mind screamed at her to leave, to spare herself the pain of what would come next. But her body betrayed her, her feet rooted to the spot as if bound by invisible chains.

She watched, unblinking, as Grayson draped a necklace identical to hers around Rita's neck.

His friends erupted in playful teasing. "Your wife looks stunning with it, doesn't she?"

Grayson's gaze turned cold, silencing them with a sharp glance.

"Don't call her that. You all know who my wife is."

They laughed it off, making exaggerated zipping motions over their mouths.

"Relax, Grayson. We won't let your precious darling find out."

"Yeah, we've been tight-lipped since the day you introduced Rita to us six months ago."

Even Grayson's mother approached Rita, slipping an heirloom bracelet onto her wrist while saying, "You've stayed in the shadows long enough. Once the child is born, you'll truly be a part of this family."

The rest of Grayson's mother's words became an indistinct hum in Wendy's ears. Her clenched fists fell limply to her side. Without a word, she turned and walked away.

Her pace quickened, as though an unseen demon was chasing her, compelling her to escape. Suddenly, she broke into a run, her footsteps growing frantic against the pavement. She ran faster and faster until she stumbled and fell.

The sky chose that moment to split open. Lightning ripped through the night sky, illuminating her silhouette against the dark. The storm followed in its wake, a torrential downpour that cascaded like a tidal wave, drowning the streets in a veil of chaos. Everything around her dissolved into a hazy blur of rain and despair.