"I'm sorry, Miss Williams, but your test results aren't good." Dr Hewitt announced to the lady seated before him.

Charlotte's grip on the edge of the chair tightened, her knuckles turning white as she heard him. 

She stared at the doctor, her throat dry.  

"What... what does that mean?" her voice trembled.  

The doctor leaned forward, placing down the results on the mahogany desk between them. 

"It means the miscarriage last month caused more damage to your body. The scarring on your uterus… it will make conceiving naturally very difficult."  

"Difficult?" Her heart stilled. 

"Not impossible," the doctor added quickly, "but the chances are slim. There are options we can explore if—"  

"I don't want options," she interrupted, her voice sharp before faltering into a whisper. "I just wanted to know if it's possible. If I can still—"  

The words stuck in her throat, her jerking hands threatening to betray her.  

Dr. Hewitt sighed, his face heavy with empathy. "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. But it's the truth. You can't—"  

"No," she cut him off, standing abruptly. "I'm definitely fine... Nothing  is wrong with me."

"Relax Miss Williams," the doctor stood up to hold her. "I'll recommend you go for some counseling first, it will help you." 

"No need... I need to go now."  Without waiting for his reply, Charlotte hurried out of his office.

As she stepped out of the hospital, the November rain greeted her, cold and unrelenting. 

The tote bag on her shoulder felt heavier than ever, though it only held the velvet cake she had picked up earlier.  

The rain blurred her vision as she walked toward the curb, waving for a taxi. She didn't wipe the drops from her cheeks. It was easier to let the rain hide her tears.

'Can't conceive naturally?' she thought, staring absentmindedly at the passengers being off-loaded at the curb.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed, breaking into her thoughts. A message from her fiancè, Alexander.  

"Plan changed... Lunch at my office. Noon."

She stared at the screen for a long moment. No explanation. No warmth. Just instructions. But she clung to it like a lifeline. 

For two weeks, he had been distant. Maybe this lunch was a sign, an olive branch. Maybe today, he'd be the Alexander she fell in love with three years ago.  

Charlotte smoothed the folds of her dress, noticing how the damp air had flattened her hair.  

She finally flagged down a taxi and hopped in, telling the driver where she's headed...

As she sat behind, she ran her fingers along the cool edge of the cake box on her laps, watching the rain streak down the taxi window like tears.

After a few minutes' drive, the car pulled up to the towering Wallace Enterprises building, and she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. 

This wasn't her world. It never had been. Not to mention what she's going through right now.

But her boyfriend, Alexander, had invited her to lunch, and for the first time in weeks, he finally wanted to meet up with her. 

So, why won't she show up?

"We are here, miss," the driver prompted gently, breaking her reverie. She stepped out into the drizzle, her coat pulled tight against the chill. 

The building stood before her, its sleek glass facade reflecting the gray sky. A symbol of power. Of Alexander's power.  

As she stepped in, the lobby greeted her with understated luxury... A world where even the air seemed expensive. 

Charlotte smoothed her dress again, painfully aware of how out of place she felt in her high-street outfit.  

"Ms. Charlotte Williams?"  

The receptionist's voice startled her. The woman's immaculate uniform and practiced smile added to Charlotte's unease.  

"Yes, that's me," Charlotte replied, adjusting the box in her arms. "I'm here to meet Mr. Wallace. He invited me for lunch."  

She couldn't even dare to call her boyfriend by his name in here.

The receptionist's fingers danced over her keyboard, her expression neutral. "Mr. Wallace is currently in a meeting. Would you like to wait in the lounge?"  

A meeting. Of course. His life was an endless string of meetings, each one more important than the last. 

Charlotte bit her lip, hiding her disappointment. "That's fine. I'll wait."  

The lounge was elegant but impersonal, with soft leather chairs and abstract art on the walls. 

As Charlotte settled into a chair, she glanced around. The other occupants were busy on their phones and laptops, their expensive suits and designer bags reinforcing her sense of being an outsider.  

She opened her bag and checked her phone. No other messages from Alexander yet.  

She set the cake box on the table and let her thoughts drift. 

It wasn't just the absence of texts or the canceled dates that bothered her. It was how Alexander has been busy for some weeks now.  

A distance had grown between them like a hairline crack in glass which is the major reason she suffered a miscarriage last month.

"Charlotte?" A tiny voice called out. 

She looked up to see Eleanor Whitmore, standing over her. The woman was deadbeat beautiful, her presence magnetic despite being in her mid twenties. 

Everything about Eleanor exuded confidence, from her navy blue long dress to the way she carried herself.  

They'd been friends since university, but not best of friends since their worlds are far apart. 

Charlotte had come from a modest background, working part-time while studying, while Eleanor had moved through life as though it had been carefully planned and perfectly executed. 

Despite the differences in their upbringing, Charlotte and Eleanor had bonded over late-night study sessions and shared frustrations over their course's rigors. 

Yet, Eleanor's ties to Alexander had always made their friendship… complicated.

Charlotte stood, fumbling with the cake box. "Hi, Eleanor."  

Eleanor smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "What brings you here?"  

"I'm meeting Alex for lunch," Charlotte said, forcing a smile.

"Oh, I didn't realize you'd be visiting today." She replied with a condescending tone. Eleanor's gaze slightly flicked to the cake box, her expression calm. 

Something in her tone made Charlotte's stomach tighten. Eleanor always seemed to know more than she let on.

Her family owned a significant portion of Wallace Enterprises, something Charlotte had only come to learn recently from Alexander. 

Charlotte wasn't sure how much of it was real friendship or the obligation Eleanor felt toward Alexander, with his undeniable charm and the power that came with her family's empire.  

But no matter what, she trusted Alexander.

Before she could respond, the elevator doors at the far end of the lounge slid open, and Alexander stepped out, flanked by two men in suits. 

He looked every inch the part—confident, polished, untouchable.  

"Excuse me," Eleanor said, her smile sharpening. She strode toward Alexander, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.  

Charlotte watched as they exchanged words, their conversation too low for her to hear. But she could see the way Alexander's face softened when he spoke to Eleanor, the way his hand slightly brushed her arm.  

Her fingers tightened around the box.  

A moment later, Alexander spotted her. His smile flickered, a quick mask that didn't quite hide the shock in his eyes.  

"Charlotte!" he exclaimed, crossing the room. "I didn't expect you to arrive so early."  

"I wanted to surprise you," she said, holding up the cake. "Congratulations on your award."  

"Thank you," he said, his tone clipped. He glanced over his shoulder at Eleanor, who was now speaking to one of his colleagues. "That's thoughtful of you."  

Thoughtful. Not loving, not excited. Just… thoughtful.

Charlotte forced a smile, her heart sinking. She had imagined this moment so differently.  

"Why don't we talk upstairs?" he said, gesturing toward the elevators.  

She nodded, clutching the box as they made their way into the elevator. 

The ride was silent, as Charlotte's reflection in the mirrored walls looked pale and uncertain.

When they finally reached his office, he closed the door behind them and offered her a seat as he sat before her. 

"Charlotte, I appreciate the gesture, but you shouldn't have bothered with the cake."  

Her chest tightened. "I just wanted to celebrate with you, Alexander. I thought—"  

"Don't overthink it," he interrupted, his voice smooth but detached. "We'll celebrate properly another time."  

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. This was how it always was...his schedule, his priorities, his world every time.  

As she set the cake on his desk, she caught a glimpse of a magazine tucked into the corner of his planner. It was of him and Eleanor, taken at an event she hadn't been invited to.  

Her heart sank.  

"Charlotte," he called out, his tone softening as if sensing her unease. "You know I care about you, don't you?"  

Care. Not love. The word felt like a stone in her chest.  

She forced a nod, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Of course."  

Alexander glanced at her, his expression momentarily softened before he exhaled, a deep sigh. 

He turned away and paced toward the window, the reflection of his broad shoulders in the black suit, casting a shadow over the room. 

"I need to tell you something."  He said calmly, but the words were like a slap to Charlotte.  

"About what?" she asked, her voice small, despite the storm of emotions roiling inside her.  

He turned to face her. His eyes met hers with a distant, almost apologetic look.  

"Let's break up."