Chapter 17 The moment Tristan stepped into the house with Hillary, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the upstairs master bedroom. His heart clenched. He immediately dropped Hillary's hand and rushed up the stairs. There, he found his mother ordering the servants to clear away the mess. After Meredith had smashed everything in the room last time, he had secretly replaced it all. Now, once again, everything was in ruins. But unlike before, this time the sight pierced him with sharp, lingering pain. "Stop!" His voice cracked through the air. He crouched down to pick up the shards, but Samantha shoved him aside. "You ungrateful brat! How dare you raise your voice at your own mother?" she snapped, glaring at him. Tristan bit back his anger. "Mom, can't you give it a rest? Isn't this house messy enough already?" His mother rolled her eyes. "These cursed things are the reason you've had such terrible luck ately. I'm getting rid of them for your own good!" Hillary trailed in behind, quickly echoing her words in a soft, trembling voice. That's right. Tristan, you don't know... Lately, I haven't been able to sleep at night. At my las renatal checkup, the doctor even said the baby's condition wasn't very stable..." Her voice wavered as tears welled up. "I'm so worried. That's why Mom asked a master to come ake a look. He said the things Meredith left behind are cursed... and they're affecting all of us." Tristan let out a cold laugh. "Don't think you can fool me with such excuses." Hillary's face crumpled with pain. "If you don't believe me, we can invite the master back and confront him together." Samantha immediately pulled her into her arms, glaring at her son with an open reproach. Hillary only went behind your back because she saw how stressed you've been with the company-barely eating or sleeping. Look how much weight she's lost! These things must go. That's final!" She paused, her gaze hardening. "The wedding is right around the corner. You'd better behave yourself. You've already let Hillary down once-are you planning to fail her a second time?" She signaled the servants to continue. Tristan stood with furrowed brows, but in the end, said nothing. He remembered how, after Hillary's accident, he had been consumed with guilt-desperate to make it up to her, to protect her. But at some point, the scales in his heart had tipped. Now, without realizing when it had happened, his thoughts were filled with Meredith instead. And in that moment, he finally understood: real love wasn't loud or dramatic-it lived quietly, in the unremarkable rhythms of daily life. His eyes dulled as he watched the items tossed into the trash. The sugar figurine from their wedding-Meredith had carved it by hand. At first, she often nicked her fingers on the blade. He had told her to just buy one ready-made, but she'd only smiled, saying something made with her own hands carried meaning. Then there was the journal, filled with memories of their life together-first confession, first date moving in, their wedding. Each page was marked with photos of them side by side, and Meredith's handwritten reflections. But as the pages went on, the photos turned into her alone, or just scenery. And her words, once warm and lively, grew colder and emptier. Watching her most cherished things being cleared away, he felt as though his own chest hac been hollowed out. And yet, he told himself, all of that was in the past. When Meredith came back, they would start over. He would give her everything new-better, brighter, and more worthy of her.