For five long years, Margaret Hart's world consisted of mountain slopes and the medicinal herbs she gathered. Basket by basket, she collected them, each one a small step towards a distant dream. Finally, the day came. The last herb was sold, and she held enough for a plane ticket to Barion City.
The capital's chill was of a different kind. No car awaited her, no familiar face. Instead, she met the piercing gaze of Victoria Bloom, Elliot Novak's girlfriend.
Disdain and disgust swam plainly in the woman's eyes.
Without a word, Margaret was ushered into an opulent private club suite. Through a sliver of an open door, she saw him.
Five years had reshaped Elliot. He stood clad in a tailored suit, his handsome features as sharp as ever.
Yet the clarity she remembered—the warmth from three years past—was utterly absent from his eyes. They held no recognition, no trace of her.
A conversation drifted out, cold and casual.
"You can't seriously be marrying that herb collector, right? Your family agreed to the union with Ms. Bloom," a male voice argued.
His tone was cool, detached, as it had been when they first met, but now layered with indifference. "Just a verbal promise. She was a curiosity in the village. But after returning... after meeting Victoria... I realized she's nothing special. Although Grandpa arranged it before he passed away, I can't be bound to that promise. My future is with Victoria. If we must, we'll settle Margaret at Duskmoon Villa. She'll have every comfort—good food, a soft life. But no children. It ends there," Elliot stated flatly.
"Duskmoon Villa? The place where your father kept his mistresses? So the rumors were true. The sabotaged opportunities, even the village bridge burned down... all to delay her. To keep her away," his friend said, a sigh in his voice.
Elliot's expression darkened. "I wanted her to move on. Our world would eat her alive. She belongs in the mountains. The city... it's no place for her."
A pause, then a quiet, brutal justification. "She saved my life. But her background... it's unsuitable. I could never have a wife like that."
"You need to resolve this. That childhood vow ties you, and she has the debt of your life. What if she insists on the marriage? What if she uses that to cling to you?"
Margaret heard no more.
A glacial numbness spread from her core, freezing her blood.
The pieces snapped together with terrible clarity. Every setback, every closed door over five years—Elliot's doing. All to keep her in the dark, away from him.
And she, fool that she was, had fought through every one, believing he waited at the end of her struggle. The irony was a physical pain.
Trembling, she followed Victoria back out into the hallway.
Victoria said, her voice dripping with false pity, "You heard him. To Elliot, you were a passing distraction. He only entertained you because he felt obligated."
She produced a checkbook with a flourish. "Let's be practical. I'll give you money. Take it and disappear. Is a million enough?"
Margaret's voice, when it came, was eerily calm. "Thirty-seven dollars and sixty cents."
Victoria frowned, suspicion flashing. "Don't play games. What more could you possibly want?"
"Give me thirty-seven sixty. Then we're even," Margaret repeated, her eyes now pools of still, dead water.
The memory surfaced, crisp and clear. Five years ago, she found Elliot wounded on the mountain path. The herbs from her basket that day, used to staunch his bleeding and fight his fever—their market value was thirty-seven dollars and sixty cents.
"Fine. Consider yourself warned—take the money and go. Elliot is going to propose to me in a week. Make trouble, and you'll regret it." Victoria shot her a look of pure disdain, pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her purse, and handed it over before turning away.
Margaret accepted the cash, folded it neatly, and tucked it into her pocket.
She sank onto a bench by the roadside, the full truth pressing down on her like a weight.
Her grandfather and Elliot's grandfather had once been sworn brothers. Years ago, they arranged a marriage between their grandchildren.
Later, the Hart family prospered and moved to Barion City. Her grandfather had only mentioned the engagement once when she was little. After his stroke, he never spoke of it again.
Now she knew—Elliot was the one.
Five years ago, he had come to the mountains and was bitten by a venomous snake.
She found him on the trail while heading into town to sell herbs and brought him home.
The venom was strong. Elliot drifted in and out of fever, vomiting repeatedly. Margaret stayed by his side, nursing him carefully. She even used her own blood in a remedy to draw out the toxin.
Elliot never revealed who he was, only murmuring that he came from an ordinary family. When no one came looking for him after days had passed, he worried his family had abandoned him.
Her heart went out to him. "Stay as long as you need. Even if your leg never fully heals, I can gather herbs. We'll manage."
Elliot held her close, his chin resting on her head, and let out a soft chuckle. "Silly girl."
In retrospect, maybe he had planned to break the engagement from the start. But then she saved him—and he couldn't bring himself to do it.
One night, after too much of her homemade wine, he took her virginity.
When Elliot woke, he hesitated only a moment before pulling her back into his arms. "Margaret, I was your first. I'll take responsibility."
After Elliot recovered, he didn't leave right away. Instead, he stayed with her in the village for half a year.
Their days were spent gathering herbs or visiting the market together.
Their nights were full of passion. Elliot seemed insatiable, always reaching for her.
For a while, they lived like a couple hidden away from the world. Margaret let herself believe it could last forever.
Then a helicopter landed at the edge of the village.
Before boarding, Elliot turned and gave her one long, lingering look.
"Margaret, there's only room for one. My mother is seriously ill. I have to go take care of her. Once things are settled at home, I'll come back for you. Don't worry. You're my wife. I won't let you down."
Margaret urged him to go, even wrapping some of the oatmeal cookies she'd made for his journey.
That departure stretched into five years.
The first year, his letter said: Margaret, I'm home. The ointment you gave me is working well. I hope you can heal your grandfather soon and come to Barion City to marry me.
But just as she prepared to leave, the village suspension bridge was burned, cutting off the only road to town.
The second year, Elliot wrote again. He was busy with work, he said, but they would marry once she arrived.
Then Margaret's family home caught fire, and she was stranded once more.
For five years, she lived clinging to the belief that she would go to him.
Now she saw it was all an illusion.
All her strength drained away. She hated Elliot and her own blindness.
''If he has gone to such lengths to keep her away, then I'll go back. And we'll never have to see each other again,' she thought.
Aksara