Meera hit the pavement hard.
Adrien stepped forward, furious. “Stop.”
But the damage was done.
Meera stood slowly, humiliation burning through her, and looked at Adrien with heartbreak in her eyes.
“I think I should go.”
Before he could stop her, she walked away with her guitar in her arms and every step breaking her heart a little more.
Adrien turned on Vanessa.
“You had no right.”
“I had every right,” she snapped. “I’m your fiancée.”
“Not by choice.”
“You are embarrassing yourself,” she said coldly. “Do you think my father—or yours—will accept a homeless girl with a broken guitar?”
That question struck deeper than Adrien wanted to admit, because somewhere inside he feared the answer.
That night, unable to bear it, Meera walked to the mansion she had seen in magazines and news stories—the home that belonged to Adrien’s family.
Maybe she only wanted answers. Maybe she wanted closure. Maybe she simply wanted to tell him she had never meant to ruin his life.
At the gate, Adrien’s father stopped her.
He was a tall man with silver hair and eyes sharp with pride and old bitterness.
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