The pain was unbearable.

The mind, a master of self-preservation, naturally chooses to forget, doesn't it?

She turned and left, flagging down a cab to the cemetery.

At the silent grounds, she laid white lilies before Dante’s parents’ graves.

She’d heard white lilies symbolized purity and devotion.

It felt like the perfect sentiment for them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I’m almost ready to fulfill my promise to you.”

“Please, rest easy. Dante… he’s doing great now. He’s running the Williams Corporation like a boss. His grandfather might nag him, but deep down, he’s super proud of what Dante can do. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“No matter what happens, thank you for changing my life.”

Her voice cracked, thick with emotion.

She knelt, her hands tracing the sign of the cross with earnest devotion.

Three days vanished in a blink.

The final day of the ten-year countdown arrived.

Coincidentally, it was also Dante’s 25th birthday.

Celine rose with the sun, meticulously cleaning and decorating their home.

She lit his favorite scented candles, hung his beloved paintings, and arranged his favorite flowers.

She even baked a birthday cake herself and whipped up a feast: roast beef, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots.

This was her grand finale, her perfect send-off to the past decade.

By six in the evening, everything was set.

But as she sat at the dining table, waiting, the man who should have been home hours ago was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn't help but dial Dante.

“When will you get off work? Today… it’s your birthday. I wanted to celebrate with you.”

A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. She feared he'd refuse again. This was the last day, and Celine desperately wanted a proper goodbye.

Thankfully, after a beat of silence, Dante’s voice came through, “Give me two more hours.”

A wave of relief washed over her. “I’ll wait.”

He didn’t say another word, just hung up.

But two hours later, he still hadn’t returned.

Celine called again.

This time, Dante’s response was the same, “Wait another two hours.”

And so it went. Two hours turned into another two.

Each promise of his return was a lie, and each call ended with the same refrain: wait another two hours.

She waited until all twenty-five candles on the cake had burned down to mere nubs.

She waited until every dish on the table was stone cold.

She waited through the night, and into the breaking dawn.

By the time the sun climbed high the next day, Dante's birthday was long over.

Celine sat at the deserted dining table, her phone in hand, dialing him one last time.

This time, as the call connected, the background buzzed with laughter and chatter.

“Damn, she actually waited all night.”

The realization hit her: Dante wasn’t at the office.

“Where are you?”

Dante made no attempt to hide it. “The Oak Room.”

Even the most naive person would have understood: he’d been toying with her all night.

She ended the call, grabbed her coat, and left.

Arriving at The Oak Room, she found the private lounge door slightly ajar. Peeking inside, she saw Dante surrounded by his friends.

Isabella was there, too.

The table was a disaster zone of half-eaten cake and scattered, empty liquor bottles.

They’d been partying all night.

So, Dante hadn't been pulling an all-nighter at the office. He'd been celebrating his birthday with his buddies.

Just then, someone asked Dante, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Dante, messing with your wife like that. Won’t she flip out and threaten divorce?”

Dante’s lip curled in a nonchalant sneer.

“Would she dare?”

A collective, knowing chuckle rippled through the room.

Everyone knew Celine was head-over-heels for Dante. Divorce? Unthinkable. She probably wouldn't even dare to argue with him.

Then, he glanced at Isabella, a pointed glint in his eyes. “Besides, birthdays are only fun when you’re with someone you actually like.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and the room filled with suggestive glances between Dante and Isabella.

From the doorway, Celine calmly pushed the door open.

Her entrance was like hitting a mute button; the boisterous room fell instantly silent.

Celine showed no trace of embarrassment. True to form, she walked directly to Dante.

“Let’s go home.”

Seeing her, so thoroughly mocked, yet not a flicker of anger, just meekly asking Dante to come home like always, the onlookers couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for Celine.