It had been two days since Sarah last heard from Harry. Her calls went unanswered, and his usual visits to the bakery had stopped. That wasn't like him. He was always easy to reach, always just a message away. The silence gnawed at her, a quiet worry that she couldn’t shake.
Late at midnight, a sharp knock jolted Sarah awake. Her heart stuttered, racing ahead of her thoughts as she hurried to the door. The moment she opened it, her breath caught.
Harry stood there, soaked from the rain, his face bruised and swollen, eyes wild with fear.
“Oh my God, Harry... what happened?” Her voice trembled, shock freezing her in place for a heartbeat before horror took over.
He didn’t respond immediately. Rainwater dripped from his hair, his clothes clinging to his body like they weighed him down. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and for a long, terrifying moment, he didn’t seem to see her. He just stared, lost somewhere far beyond the doorway.
“Come inside!” She stepped aside, urgency in her voice, her concern overwhelming any hesitation.
Harry staggered in, collapsing onto the sofa as if his legs had given out. He didn’t bother wiping the rain from his face or shaking off his coat. He just sat there, shoulders slumped, his usual energy drained, replaced by something darker—something broken.
“Harry...” Sarah crouched beside him, her voice soft but laced with anxiety. “What’s going on?”
His gaze finally shifted to her, eyes bloodshot and hollow. “The company I invested in... it went bankrupt.” His voice cracked, the words jagged and sharp as they tumbled out. “The debt collectors—they're after me. I don’t know what to do, Sarah. I lost everything.”
He buried his face in his hands, and the quiet sobs that followed cut through the stillness of the room.
“I just wanted to give you a better life,” he choked out, his voice muffled, fragile. “I thought I could make us secure. But I—”
“How much?” Sarah interrupted gently, her heart pounding as dread knotted in her chest. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“One million dollars.” The weight of those words dropped like a stone between them, too heavy, too real.
Sarah froze. The number was incomprehensible, like a nightmare belonging to someone else. But the look on Harry’s face—so broken, so vulnerable—made it undeniable. Her mind raced, searching for a way out, but every thought hit a dead end.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain steady even though part of her wanted to scream. “You have me, Harry,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. She reached up, cupping his face gently, tilting his head until their eyes met. “Money isn’t everything. What matters is that we’re together. You’re my better life.”
His gaze faltered, guilt swimming in his dark eyes. His mouth opened as if to argue, but no words came.
Later that night, after coaxing him into eating a warm meal, Sarah handed him her savings—the small amount she had been setting aside for years, piece by piece, for their future together.
“I can’t take this.” Harry shook his head, his voice thick with guilt. “I’ve already ruined everything. I don’t want to drag you down too.”
She placed the money in his hands, her fingers trembling as they lingered over his. “What if it were me?” she whispered, her voice quiet but insistent. “Wouldn’t you help me?”
Harry stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in, guilt pulling him under. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. “I’ll pay you back. I’ll make everything right.” His promise was soft, distant, as though even he couldn’t fully believe it.
As she treated the cuts and bruises on his face, Harry’s gaze lingered on her, his silence more intense than any words.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked softly, dabbing ointment onto a bruise, her hands gentle.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were the only person I could think of... at a time like this.”
She paused, her hand hovering over his cheek for a moment before she continued. “I’m going to be your wife in a week, Harry. If I can help my husband, I should. It’s in moments like these that we see who’s truly good for us.”
He reached up, stopping her hand, his grip firm but tender. His eyes, filled with something unspoken, held hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath brushing her skin. She had felt his kisses before, but this—this was different, heavy with everything they couldn’t say.
A single tear slipped down his cheek, and just as their lips almost met, he pulled away, a sharp breath escaping him. Guilt shadowed his face, and the weight of everything unsaid kept him from moving closer.
“I should go,” he muttered, his voice strained, his gaze averted.
“Where are you going at this time?” Sarah asked.
“I need to go,” he repeated, his voice cracking as if he were fighting back tears. He turned away, his shoulders slumping further under the invisible burden. She held his wrist.
“If we don’t have a big hall, or fancy food, or guests, it doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “What matters is that we’re together. You are with me. That’s what matters most.”
He paused, the silence between them heavy. His eyes, full of regret, met hers for a brief, fleeting moment, but whatever she was searching for in his face, she couldn’t find. Without another word, he walked out into the rain, disappearing into the night.
The next morning, Sarah arrived at the bakery, hoping to distract herself with work, only to find a stranger barring the entrance.
“This is my bakery,” she said, confused. “Who are you? How did you get in?”
The man smirked, his expression dripping with disdain. “Mr. Harry sold it to me. Who are you, his secretary?”
Sarah’s heart stuttered, her mind scrambling to make sense of his words. “No,” she stammered, “this can’t be right. I’m a partner here—I invested in this bakery. My signature is required for any sale.”
The man’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold glare. “Look, lady, I’ve got the paperwork. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”
She pulled out her phone, her hands shaking. “Let me call Harry,” she said, trying to keep the rising panic out of her voice.
But when she dialed his number, the call went straight to voicemail. Her heart sank. He’d promised her everything was going to be fine, but now his phone was off. He was gone.
Determined not to jump to conclusions, Sarah hurried to the theater where Harry had performed. She asked everyone—stagehands, makeup artists, even the janitor—but each answer left her more confused than before.
“He said he’s getting married, so he took the time off,” one of the makeup artists said, tilting her head.
Another chimed in, “No, no, he told me he’s going to the States for a big movie role.”
“He’s on vacation,” someone else shrugged.
A knot twisted in Sarah’s chest. Were they lying? Or had Harry been lying to her this whole time?
Her world tilted, reality spinning out of control as Sarah stepped into her small apartment. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The small safe in the corner—where she had tucked away every last dollar of her savings—was open, its contents emptied.
All of her cash was gone.
She stood there for a long moment, numb, as her mind raced. Only one person knew the password—Harry.
No. He wouldn’t...
But the gnawing fear inside her chest told a different story. She tried calling him again, the number going straight to voicemail, the mechanical tone of rejection cold in her ear. The message she left felt hollow, a quiet plea laced with disbelief. He’ll come back. He has to.
Days turned into weeks, and still, no word. Sarah went to the police, filing a missing person report, her voice cracking with the hope she clung to—hope that Harry hadn’t betrayed her. That something else, something beyond her understanding, had happened.
But deep down, cracks were already forming.
The final blow came when she had no choice but to sell her engagement ring. She hadn’t wanted to—it was one of the few things that still tied her to him, to the dream of a future they had imagined together. The jeweler’s words hit her like a punch to the gut.
“The diamond’s fake.”
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and then Add to home screen.