Chapter 7: No Opening

Three months passed.

My collection became the busiest thing in my life.

I loved every exhausting second of it.

We called the collection Unbound.

The designs weren't built around perfect brides waiting for perfect men.

They were about choice.

Some were traditional.

Some were bold.

One was a sleek ivory suit.

Another had a detachable train that transformed the gown completely once removed.

The centerpiece was the dress Hector had commissioned from my old sketch.

The first production samples sold out during preorders.

Fashion magazines began requesting interviews.

Retailers wanted exclusivity deals.

For the first time, people introduced me without attaching Anton's name to mine.

I was Emilia Vale.

Designer.

Creative director.

Not Anton Schreier's fiancée.

Not Lina Kingston's best friend.

Just me.

Anton continued trying to contact me.

At first, he sent messages through mutual friends.

Then emails.

Then handwritten letters.

I didn't answer.

Our friends eventually stopped acting as messengers.

Most of them had already realized what I had taken ten years to accept.

There was nothing left to mediate.

Lina was different.

She disappeared for almost two months.

Then, three days before the launch show, she appeared at the studio.

The receptionist called upstairs.

"Ms. Vale, there's a Lina Kingston here to see you."

My hand stopped over the fabric sample.

"Did she make an appointment?"

"No."

"Then I'm unavailable."

Five minutes later, shouting erupted downstairs.

I closed my eyes.

Some things never changed.

By the time I reached reception, Lina was crying.

"Emilia!"

She rushed toward me.

Security stepped between us.

"It's fine," I said.

They moved aside but remained close.

Lina looked different.

The glamorous woman who once demanded elaborate weddings looked exhausted.

"Can we talk?"

"You have five minutes."

Her face twisted.

"That's all I get after twenty years of friendship?"

"You used nine weddings. Five minutes seems generous."

She flinched.

"I know you're angry."

"I'm not."

"Then why won't you answer me?"

"Because I don't want you in my life."

She stared at me.

Apparently, she had expected tears, accusations, perhaps even a screaming match.

Indifference was harder for her to handle.

"Anton doesn't speak to me anymore," she whispered.

"That's between you and Anton."

"He blames me for everything."

"That's his problem."

"But you know it wasn't all my fault."

"I do."

She blinked.

"Anton made his own choices."

Relief appeared on her face.

"Exactly!"

"And so did you."

The relief vanished.

"Emilia—"

"The first wedding wasn't your fault. You were abandoned. You were hurt, and I supported you."

I looked directly at her.

"What about the next eight?"

She lowered her gaze.

"You knew Anton's attention toward you hurt me."

"I thought it was harmless."

"You kissed him in front of me."

"I was emotional."

"You wore my gown."

"Anton brought it."

"You knew I wanted it."

Silence.

"You asked me to carry your veil while you walked toward my fiancé."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't think you'd actually leave."

There it was.

The truth.

Anton hadn't thought I would leave.

Neither had Lina.

They had built their entire relationship around the assumption that I would tolerate anything.

"I know," I said.

"I was jealous of you."

I frowned.

Lina wiped her face.

"You always had everything."

"Everything?"

"Your career. Your talent. Your family respected you. And Anton..."

Her voice became quieter.

"Anton only talked about marrying you."

I almost laughed.

"He had a strange way of showing it."

"That's why the weddings felt good."

My expression hardened.

"What?"

"When he stood beside me, everyone looked at me like I was the woman he loved."

She looked ashamed.

"I knew it wasn't real, but for a few hours, I could pretend someone had chosen me instead of you."

The confession should have made me furious.

Instead, I only felt tired.

"And every time you wanted that feeling, I was supposed to watch."

Lina started crying.

"I'm sorry."

"I believe you."

She looked hopeful.

"Then can we—"

"No."

Her face fell.

"Forgiveness isn't an opening back into my life."

"We've been friends since we were children."

"And I'll remember the good years."

I glanced at the clock.

"Your five minutes are over."

"Emilia, please."

I signaled security.

Lina panicked.

"Anton still loves you!"

I stopped.

"He really does. He's miserable. He barely works. He keeps the ring you returned in his pocket. He goes to that bridal shop all the time."

I looked back at her.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because maybe if you forgive him, he'll forgive me too."

I smiled sadly.

Even her apology had ultimately been about herself.

"Goodbye, Lina."

Security escorted her out.

That evening, Hector found me alone backstage.

"You look murderous."

"That's an improvement. This morning I looked exhausted."

He handed me coffee.

I checked the label.

"Iced americano?"

"Is that wrong?"

I stared at the cup.

For a second, I was back outside Lina's dressing room holding two coffees.

Then I laughed.

"No. It's perfect."

Hector sat beside me.

"Lina came here."

"Your security team reports everything?"

"They report disturbances involving crying women."

"Useful policy."

He smiled.

For several moments, neither of us spoke.

Then Hector said, "Anton asked to see me."

"Why?"

"He offered to buy my shares in the bridal company."

I slowly turned toward him.

"What?"

"At twice their current value."

"Why?"

"He wants control of the company."

My stomach tightened.

"Because of me."

"Obviously."

"Did you accept?"

Hector looked offended.

"At only twice market value? Emilia, please."

I laughed despite myself.

"What did you tell him?"

"That even if he bought every share I own, your contract isn't transferable without your approval."

I relaxed.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."

He handed me his phone.

Anton had sent another proposal.

Five times market value.

I stared at it.

"He's lost his mind."

"Probably."

I handed the phone back.

"Sell if you want."

Hector studied me.

"You wouldn't care?"

"My contract protects me."

"That's not what I'm asking."

I understood.

"I'm not afraid of Anton anymore."

Hector nodded.

"Good."

He deleted the proposal.

"Then neither am I."

The launch show was the next evening.

Every seat was filled.

Editors, buyers, celebrities, investors, and designers crowded the venue.

When the first model walked onto the runway wearing one of my gowns, my eyes burned.

This was the dream Anton had always called impractical.

It was real now.

At the end, I walked onto the runway to applause.

Cameras flashed.

I bowed.

Then I saw Anton.

He was standing at the very back.

He hadn't forced his way backstage.

He hadn't demanded a seat near me.

He simply watched.

Our eyes met.

For a moment, I remembered the boy I had loved ten years ago.

The Anton who used to wait outside my classes.

The Anton who once walked two miles through rain because my phone had died and he was worried.

Maybe that version of him had been real.

Maybe we had simply destroyed each other slowly afterward.

Anton smiled faintly.

I looked away.

After the show, he waited outside.

"Congratulations," he said.

"Thank you."

"You were incredible."

"Thank you."

He swallowed.

"Can we have dinner sometime?"

"No."

The answer came easily.

He closed his eyes.

"I thought so."

For once, he didn't argue.

"I sold the apartment," he said.

"Okay."

"I couldn't stay there."

I didn't know what he expected me to say.

"I found your old calendar while packing."

My expression changed slightly.

"You marked every date I canceled."

I remembered that calendar.

At first, I had marked canceled dates so we could reschedule them.

Eventually, the red crosses had become a private record of disappointment.

"There were eighty-three," Anton whispered.

"I didn't count."

"I did."

His eyes reddened.

"And Lina's name was beside fifty-seven of them."

I remained silent.

"I don't know how I didn't see it."

"You didn't need to."

"What does that mean?"

"You knew I would wait."

His face twisted.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Is there really no opening left for me?"

I thought about it.

Not because I was uncertain.

Because after ten years, he deserved one truthful answer.

"No."

A tear slipped down Anton's cheek.

I had rarely seen him cry.

Once, that sight would have broken me.

Now I simply felt sad for both of us.

"Goodbye, Anton."

I walked toward Hector, who was waiting beside the car.

Anton didn't follow.

There are doors that remain open because we are afraid to close them.

For ten years, mine had been one of them.

Anton had walked in and out whenever he pleased, certain he would always find me waiting on the other side.

But I had finally closed it.

There was no anger behind it anymore.

No revenge.

And no opening.