Chapter 71: Chapter: 71 Marinate’s Heartbreak.[3]
Marinate didn’t even look back, her tears flowing freely as she ran toward her dorm.
Her heart felt heavy, and her chest ached with every step.
If someone had told her she would feel such pain today, she would never have gone to meet him.
She rushed inside her room, ignoring the curious stares around her, and slammed the door shut.
The sound echoed in the silence.
"Why!?" she cried out, her voice breaking as she grabbed a flower vase and threw it with all her strength.
Crash.
The vase shattered into countless pieces, just like her heart.
She stared at the broken fragments on the floor, her vision blurred by tears, and slowly sank to her knees.
The cold tiles touched her skin, grounding her in the painful truth, he didn’t feel the same.
"Why? Did I ask you to look only at me?" Her voice trembled, raw and broken, nothing like the calm, proud girl she once was.
At this moment, she seemed more like an old lion who had lost its strength to hunt, tired, wounded, and unable to hide the pain any longer.
If only he hadn’t refused her this late... No, even then, she would have still gone to him.
She knew herself too well.
Her heart had already chosen him, no matter how much her mind warned her otherwise.
Marinate was a prideful girl, the eldest daughter of the emperor of the Arya Empire.
A name that carried weight and power wherever it was spoken.
If she asked, millions would line up to marry her. Yet none of that mattered.
At this moment, she felt fragile, like a glass doll that could shatter with the slightest touch.
When she had challenged Charlotte, she believed she would win no matter what.
And even if she lost, she thought she could laugh it off, as if it were nothing more than a passing breeze.
But now that he had truly rejected her, everything inside her felt broken.
The strength she once took pride in, the confidence she wore like armor, it all crumbled away.
Her status, her beauty, her royal blood, none of it meant anything anymore.
She would have given it all up without hesitation if it meant he would look at her, even once, even at the end of her life.
Yet deep down, she knew it was impossible.
She had seen it, the unshakable clarity in his eyes.
It told her everything she didn’t want to believe: that no matter what she did, no matter how much she loved him, his heart would never turn toward her.
It already belonged to someone else—Charlotte.
At this moment, a bitter taste filled her heart.
’If only I had met him before her,’ she thought.
The idea clung to her mind like a cruel dream she couldn’t let go of.
She wished things had been different, that fate had allowed her to cross his path before Charlotte ever appeared.
Maybe then, it would have been her standing beside him, not watching from afar with tears in her eyes.
Perhaps their roles would have been reversed, and it would be Charlotte crying instead of her.
But wishes were fragile things, and reality cared little for them.
All Marinate could do was sit there, surrounded by silence, clutching her aching heart that refused to let go.
Meanwhile, Vivian stood silently, his gaze fixed on the place where Marinate had been moments ago.
"Haa.."
A deep sigh escaped him, heavy with guilt and regret.
If only he hadn’t been the way he was, so naive, so lost in his own sense of happiness, then maybe she wouldn’t have had to go through such pain.
Back then, his way of thinking had been different.
He used to dream of living in those fantasy worlds he’d read about in novels, where everything made sense and love always found a way.
But reality had struck him hard, and now he understood, life didn’t work that way.
He couldn’t afford to repeat his old mistakes.
"She needs time," he muttered under his breath, hoping that time would heal her aching heart.
But what he didn’t know was that time doesn’t heal anything, it only teaches people how to live with their pain.
For Marinate, forgetting him was impossible.
No matter how much time passed, she would carry that wound inside her, quietly bearing the ache until her last moments, still waiting for him.
Life is cruel that way.
No matter how hard you try, you can’t always have what you want.
And Vivian, unaware of how deeply her love had grown in such a short time, turned away with another sigh.
The moment Vivian turned around, he froze.
His eyes widened for an instant before regaining their calm, steady look.
"Did you hear everything?" he asked quietly.
The question was meant for Charlotte, who stood at the doorway.
Her expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between pity, guilt, and understanding.
She let out a soft sigh. "Yes," she admitted.
She had heard everything, Marinate’s pain, Vivian’s regret, and the silence that followed.
A small ache grew in her chest as she imagined herself in Marinate’s place.
If their positions had been reversed, she knew she would have been just as shattered.
But feelings weren’t something one could control, and pity would only make things worse.
So, after a moment of heavy quiet, she said in a calm tone, "I heard everything."
"Mhm," Vivian murmured with a faint nod as he walked past her.
He didn’t offer an explanation, and Charlotte didn’t ask for one.
She could see it in his eyes, the quiet guilt weighing him down.
As the sound of his footsteps faded, Charlotte lowered her gaze, her chest tightening with a guilt of her own.
It would have been better if she had stopped Marinate from confessing in the first place, better if she had spoken to her openly instead of letting pride get in the way.
Back then, she had believed too much in Vivian’s judgment and her own restraint.
She thought things would settle naturally.
But now, because of her petty pride and blind faith, Marinate was the one paying the price.
The thought stung.
The victory she once felt now tasted hollow, replaced only by the quiet ache of regret.
She hadn’t thought Marinate’s feelings would grow so deep in just a month, so deep that she would beg, simply to be seen by him.
The memory of it lingered painfully in Charlotte’s mind.
"Haa..." she exhaled softly, her eyes drifting toward the spot where Marinate had been moments ago, crying and pleading.
The image made her chest tighten.
She truly pitied her.
If Vivian had ever spoken to her that way, she wasn’t sure she could have endured it either.
But pity could change nothing.
What could she possibly do?
Convince him to return Marinate’s feelings? Accept her as a rival? The thought stung.
No, she couldn’t.
Even if her heart ached for Marinate, her own feelings for Vivian ran deeper than sympathy.
Her obsession was stronger.
She wouldn’t allow anyone near him except herself.
Her obsession with him ran deeper than any other emotion, deeper than pity, deeper than reason.
Charlotte knew she was selfish.
If their roles had been reversed, she would have despised herself too.
After all, Marinate hadn’t asked for something impossible.
She hadn’t demanded his life, his loyalty, or his future, only that he look at her, even once, even if it took her entire lifetime of waiting.
And in truth, Charlotte found that painfully reasonable.
What else could Marinate have done to win his heart?
There was a quiet dignity in that kind of devotion, a tragic grace she couldn’t ignore.
Yet despite understanding that, Charlotte’s own feelings wouldn’t let her yield.
The thought of Vivian looking at someone else, smiling at someone else, made her chest tighten with a maddening ache.
It was intolerable, unthinkable.
No matter how much she pitied Marinate, her heart screamed in rejection, clawing at the very idea.
"I’m sorry, Marinate," she whispered, her voice low and heavy.
The softness in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by something sharper, something cold and unyielding.
Pity turned to resolve, and her once gentle gaze grew fierce.
"But I can’t compromise when it comes to him."
Her words were quiet, yet each carried the weight of her conviction.
Her love for Vivian wasn’t something light or fleeting; it was something that had rooted itself deep within her soul, far beyond reason or restraint.
It wasn’t just an obsession.
If it had been mere obsession, she would never have endured the agony of the white void, the endless pain, the countless times she had cut herself just for the faintest chance to see him again.
That kind of torment wasn’t driven by madness.
It was driven by love twisted by desperation, shaped by loss, and sustained by her unyielding will.
Her obsession hadn’t forced her to bear the pain, her love had.
A love that wasn’t soft or kind, but fierce, consuming, and absolute.
Her love wasn’t gentle.
It was possessive, all-encompassing, and it demanded everything she had.
And no matter how much she pitied Marinate, she knew one truth she could never escape, she could not, and would not, compromise with that.