Chapter 7
1093words
My new studio moved to a more stylishly designed office building in the city center, with an open view and abundant sunlight. After the turmoil, my career wasn't affected at all; instead, my "heroic act" at that wedding made my reputation soar within the industry. I landed several big projects that I wouldn't have dared to dream of before, keeping me incredibly busy.
"Latest news," Emma leaned against my desk with an oat milk latte, as if delivering morning news, "Vincent was fired by his company last month. I heard that Diane cut ties decisively, hiring the best divorce lawyer, leaving him with nothing, and gaining full custody of both children."
I was modifying a design on my computer screen when I heard this, and my hands paused for a moment.
"What about Alex?" I asked, my tone as calm as if I were discussing a stranger.
"What else could happen? With a mountain of debt, he ran away long ago. Some say he left the city overnight, and no one can contact him." Emma shrugged her shoulders, took a sip of coffee, "It's really satisfying."
I leaned back in my chair, watching the flow of traffic outside the window, but didn't feel the wild joy I had expected from successful revenge. There was no gratifying feeling of "you deserved it," nor any satisfaction from schadenfreude.
Everything seemed to be over. Those heart-wrenching betrayals, that gnashing hatred, all settled with the downfall of these two men.
"I thought I would feel great," I said softly, "but now... I just feel like I can finally move on with my life."
Emma came over and hugged me from behind, gently resting her chin on my shoulder.
"That's right, Mia," her voice was gentle yet strong, "They don't deserve to occupy your life, not even for a minute."
A week later, I received a letter forwarded by the reception desk.
No fancy envelope, just an ordinary white one, with messy handwriting that I knew all too well. The postmark was from a distant southern town.
It was from Alex.
Back at my apartment, I opened the letter. The paper was just a thin single sheet with few words on it.
"Mia, I'm not asking for your forgiveness.
But I want to tell you that after leaving this city, I feel like I've finally woken up. All these years I've been madly chasing money and status, using any means necessary, hurting many people, and ultimately destroying myself.
What you did at the wedding, though cruel, made me see for the first time how ugly I had truly become.
I won't be coming back. I hope you're doing well.
I'm sorry."
The letter had no signature at the end, just a hasty period.
I held that light piece of paper in my hand, sitting on the sofa for a long time. The sunset outside the window cast a warm golden glow over the room, but I felt a chill slowly rising from the bottom of my heart.
My eyes felt hot, with a sour feeling welling up, but I ultimately didn't shed tears.
For a man like this, it wasn't worth it.
In the evening, Emma came over for dinner and saw the letter I had placed on the coffee table. She picked it up and read it through.
"Well, look who found his conscience?" she said with a sneer, her tone full of mockery, "Now he knows to apologize, where was this earlier?"
She looked up at me and asked cautiously: "Mia, will you... forgive him?"
I shook my head.
"No," I said firmly, "The damage has been done, and it can't be erased with just a sorry. Some mistakes are never worthy of forgiveness."
Emma breathed a sigh of relief, but then seemed confused: "Then why did you..."
"I just don't hate him anymore." I took over her words, my gaze turning toward the boundless night outside the window, "You know, Emma, for these two months I've been thinking, if time could flow backwards, back to before the wedding day, what choice would I make."
"What would you choose?" She looked at me seriously.
"I think... I would still expose him at the wedding." My voice was soft, yet carried an unprecedented firmness, "But not for revenge, not to see him disgraced. But for myself, to prevent myself from living the rest of my life in an elaborately woven lie."
That grand-scale revenge was less about punishing others and more about saving myself.
Emma was silent for a moment, then solemnly said to me: "Mia, you did nothing wrong. You simply chose to face the truth, rather than, like many people, choosing to escape and deceive yourself for the sake of so-called stability."
Her words were like a beam of light, instantly illuminating the last dark corner in my heart.
Yes, I did nothing wrong.
I stood up, walked to the coffee table, picked up the letter, pulled open the drawer of the TV cabinet, and put it inside, together with those old photos and old contracts.
As I closed the drawer, I felt like I had completed an important ritual.
"What this experience has taught me is—never compromise yourself for anyone, and never give up your principles for so-called love." I smiled at Emma, it was a genuine, relieved smile from the bottom of my heart, "The truth is always worth revealing."
"Have you figured it out?" Emma's eyes were sparkling.
"Yes," I nodded firmly, "Let's go, didn't you say you wanted to introduce me to a new friend? Let's do it today."
Emma widened her eyes in surprise: "Are you really ready?"
"Of course." I walked into the bedroom, changed into a pretty dress, and applied light, elegant makeup, "Let the past be completely in the past. I'm starting a new life now."
We walked side by side on the streets as the lights were just coming on, the evening breeze blowing through my long hair, the air filled with the scent of freedom.
Just as Emma and I were chatting about which newly opened bar to visit, my phone vibrated once in my bag.
I took it out and glanced at it, it was a new social media friend request.
The request message said: "Hi, I was an audience member at your design exhibition last time, your work really moved me. Could we get to know each other?"
