The Belated Bride: Becoming My Own Muse Chapter 29

The Belated Bride: Becoming My Own Muse Chapter 29

She waited downstairs at my studio for a long time.

When she saw me, her whole posture was far more subdued than before.

“Claire. Chris has been in a very bad state lately.”

I said, “Then he should see a doctor.”

Eleanor’s expression was deeply uncomfortable.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then I don’t know what you mean.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she took out a blue velvet jewelry box.

“This is the Van Ness family heirloom bracelet. It should have been given to you a long time ago. I was old and foolish before.”

I didn’t take it.

“I’m no longer Mrs. Van Ness.”

Eleanor’s eyes grew red.

“Claire. I know I treated you poorly in the past. But you and Chris shared three years of marriage. Everyone makes mistakes. Can you give him just one more chance?”

I looked at this woman who had once been so imperious before me.

In the past, she had barely even bothered to call me by name.

Now, she was willing to stand in the cold wind and wait.

But what I felt wasn’t satisfaction. And it wasn’t resentment.

There was only clarity.

I said, “Eleanor. You don’t think I’m a good person now.”

“You’ve just realized that Bianca isn’t suitable for the Van Ness family… and I am.”

Her face shifted.

I continued, “Before, I was suitable for enduring. So you wanted me to endure.”

“Now, I’m suitable for holding up the Van Ness family’s public image. So you want me to come back.”

“But I’m not a tool.”

Her hand trembled.

I pushed the jewelry box back toward her.

“Give this bracelet to the next woman willing to marry into the Van Ness family.”

I turned and walked into the building.

Before the elevator doors closed, I saw Eleanor standing there, looking for the very first time like a woman who had lost completely.

But I didn’t need her to lose anymore.

My own days were more than full enough.

After Belated went viral, my studio’s orders were already booked out six months in advance.

A lot of girls wrote to me, saying that after seeing the story behind the dress, they suddenly didn’t feel like settling anymore.

Some had called off weddings where they weren’t respected.

Some had quit jobs that were draining their souls.

Some had tattooed “May I finally become my own bride” on their wrists.

Looking at those messages, I often thought about my old self.