Start Over Without You

When Gavin called to tell Margaret about the wedding, she was at the hospital.

Her mother's condition had worsened. She desperately needed a kidney transplant, but the organ Margaret had arranged for her was still in Chesterio—still far from reaching her.

Margaret had originally planned to use her own identity to secure that kidney for her mother.

But on the other end of the line, Margaret's younger sister, Eloise Chapman, spoke in a calm, collected tone, "I told you, I'm climbing Mount Casendron right now. I can't make it in time. Even if I flew over now, it'd be tomorrow night before I could get there."

Margaret's hands shook as she whispered, "But Mom really can't hold on much longer. You wanted my identity, didn't you? If Mom dies, I won't have any use for your kidney anymore. Why should I give my identity to you then?"

"I can't do anything about it!" Eloise's voice grew cold as she abruptly hung up.

Margaret felt her hands grow colder too. Her mother's warmth was slowly fading away.

The doctor entered again. "Ms. Chapman, any news about the kidney?"

"Please, please save her..." Margaret's words were barely coherent as she stumbled forward, dropping to her knees. She grabbed the doctor's sleeve, begging relentlessly. "You must have other options, right? Please, save her..."

The doctor gently pushed her hand away, his voice full of regret. "Ms. Chapman, I'm sorry."

His silhouette disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

Her mother suddenly opened her clouded eyes. She grasped Margaret's hand with a strength she didn't have left.

"Margaret... you must... be happy..." Her voice was weak, each word a struggle.

Then, as she let out a soft sigh, her hand slipped from Margaret's grip, and the machines emitted a sharp, continuous beep. Margaret held her mother's hand, unable to stop the tears that flowed freely, her sobs echoing in the sterile room.

It was then that the phone rang.

The moment Margaret saw the caller ID, she instinctively answered it, almost as if it were a lifeline.

She choked out the words to Gavin.

"Gavin, what should I do?" she whispered between sobs. "My mom... she's gone..."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

Faintly, Margaret thought she heard Marjorie's voice in the background.

"Gavin! Who are you talking to?" Marjorie's voice was sweet, almost childlike.

Then there was a sharp beep—Gavin had hung up.

Margaret clutched her phone, which now felt hot to the touch, her heart sinking with each passing second.

Two minutes later, a message popped up on WhatsApp.

[Are you okay?

[I'll come as soon as I finish my meeting.]

Margaret's hands trembled as she opened the surveillance footage. There, she saw Gavin holding Marjorie in his arms, soothing her like a child. He held another woman so tenderly while telling Margaret he would hurry over once his meeting was done.

It was almost laughable.

Her mother's hand still had warmth, but it was quickly fading.

Margaret stared at her mother, and at that moment, she finally understood the meaning of her mother's last words.

To be happy, she could only be happy as Margaret. She couldn't be anyone else's substitute.

By the time Gavin returned home, it was already past midnight.

Margaret had taken care of all the funeral arrangements for her mother. She had paid a hefty price to move things along quickly, and now, her mother's ashes were resting in a small urn she cradled in her arms.

Gavin entered and froze, surprised to see the urn in the suitcase. "Why is it in the suitcase?" he asked.

Margaret's voice was calm as she answered, "I'm taking her back to her hometown."

Gavin paused, a frown creasing his brow. "When are you planning to take her back?"

"Tomorrow," Margaret replied.

His frown deepened. "The wedding is the day after tomorrow. Maybe you should wait until after the ceremony to take your mom home."

Margaret's fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her coat, her knuckles turning white.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled, her voice soft but laced with an edge. "My mother's gone. Do we really need to go ahead with the wedding? Our family tradition is to mourn the deceased..."

Gavin sighed, his tone thoughtful. "The wedding has already been announced to everyone. It wouldn't be appropriate to change the date now. I'm sure your mom wouldn't mind. Didn't she always want to see us get married?

"Getting married now would fulfill one of her wishes," he added, his eyes filled with sincerity.

It was hard to deny the truth in his words, yet Margaret felt a deep sadness welling up inside her, a sadness she couldn't shake.

No. Her mother wouldn't want to see her marry a man who didn't love her.

Her mother had wanted her to be happy.

"I understand," Margaret whispered. Her hand gently brushed over the urn, and she spoke with a quiet calmness, "We'll wait until after the wedding, then."

But deep down, she knew. There would be no wedding.

At least, not one for her and Gavin.

Since it was two days before the wedding, Gavin arranged for a wedding dress to be delivered. It was the exact style Marjorie had always loved.

The wedding venue was adorned with countless yellow roses—the very flowers Marjorie adored.

Margaret silently accepted everything Gavin had planned, taking in every detail of the wedding setup. Everything had been done according to Marjorie's tastes.

The night before the wedding, Gavin stopped by the villa to drop off the Blue Diamond—only for Margaret to immediately realize it was a fake.

She could tell. Gavin clearly loved Marjorie deeply and was determined to give her the perfect wedding—one that catered to all of her dreams, right down to the smallest details like the ring.

"See you tomorrow," Gavin said in a low voice while hugging her lightly. "Maggie, you're going to love this wedding."

Of course, his Maggie would love it. But she wouldn't.

At 1:00 AM, Eloise's call came through. "I'm here! Now that Mom's gone, are you sure you still want to trade identities? I don't have anything to give you."

"It's fine. I don't need anything," Margaret replied calmly. "By the way, about tomorrow's wedding..."

Eloise responded eagerly, "Don't worry. I'll be there! Marrying the sweet Mr. Hartley? I couldn't ask for anything better!"

All the words Margaret had wanted to say in that moment were swallowed, replaced by a soft "Okay" before she ended the call.

She pulled her suitcase out, and, under the cover of the deep night, climbed into a cab headed for the airport.

As the city passed by in a blur of lights and noise, a strange impulse stirred in Margaret's chest. She felt like crying, but no tears came. Her eyes were dry, as though the sadness had drained away.

It didn't seem so hard anymore.

Margaret took the phone card from her phone and tossed it out the window. It disappeared into the flow of traffic, vanishing into the night.