His Regret Can No Longer Touch My Heart Chapter 08
Three months later.
I opened my own studio.
I named it “Hails”—my grandmother’s pet name for me when I was little.
The space was tiny, inside an old building in East London.
But the sunlight was perfect.
I hung the award-winning emerald necklace on the wall—the heart of the collection.
Every customer would ask, “This necklace is so unique. Is it for sale?”
I’d always shake my head.
“No. It’s not for sale.”
Niamh said I was an idiot.
“If you sold it, you’d get at least tens of thousands of pounds.”
I shook my head again.
“Not selling. No matter the price.”
Niamh laughed.
“You’ve really grown a backbone.”
I laughed too.
Yeah.
I had.
No need to cling to anyone. No need to grovel for anyone. No need to shrink myself for anyone.
Niamh occasionally fed me scraps of news from Ohio.
Don Caleb was still single. My photo sat in his office.
Delilah ended up in Australia. Miserable. Frequently posting unhinged rants online, cursing the Hayes Family, cursing me, cursing everyone.
Don Hunter and Donna Rachel got divorced. Donna Rachel lived alone in the old estate, muttering every day about when Hailey would come home.
I was just finishing up feeding Mia and eating breakfast when I heard all that.
I set down my milk glass and quietly listened to Niamh’s full “report.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Aren’t you going back to see your mom? I heard she’s pretty wrecked.”
I wiped my mouth. “She’s wrecked because of her own choices. It has nothing to do with me.”
Niamh sighed. “You can be really ruthless sometimes.”
I stood and cleared the plates.
“Being ruthless is the only way to live light.”
“Besides, I already have my family.”
Niamh glanced at Mia sleeping soundly, thoughtful.
Niamh’s family was too happy. She didn’t get it.
Some people—if you forgive them, they won’t feel grateful. They’ll just think you’re weak.
Some homes—if you return, they won’t treasure you. They’ll just keep hurting you.
I never wanted to be hurt again.
And I never wanted to go back.
One year passed.
My studio gained a solid reputation.
The “Rebirth” collection made it into British Vogue, praised as “the most moving healing jewelry design.”
Orders started pouring in from all over the world.
I was so busy every day my feet barely touched the ground.
And I loved it.
That afternoon, I was in the studio polishing a half-finished piece.
There was a sudden commotion outside.
Sounded like the guards Niamh assigned me were clashing with someone.
I was about to open the door and check.
One of the guards walked in, holding a box.
“Miss Hayes, some guy outside insisted we give this to you.”
I opened the outer box.
Inside was a small wooden case.
I opened it. The pink diamond necklace lay inside.
There was a note beside it.
Familiar handwriting:
[I’m sorry. I know you’re never coming back. But I’ll still wait for you.]
I ripped the note into pieces. Put the necklace back in its case.
“I’ve received the item. Tell him to leave.”
The guard nodded and turned to go.
“Wait—he’s still the Don of the Moretti Family…” I hesitated.
The guard gave me a puzzled look.
“Will kicking him out cause trouble for you guys?”
The guard burst out laughing. “Of course not. No one dares mess with the Lynch Family in London.”
I exhaled in relief. “Good.”
“Please make sure he gets kicked out.”
“Right away!” The guard headed out.
Sunlight poured in, landing on my worktable and the necklace I was designing.
Outside the window, London’s sky stretched impossibly blue.
I picked up my tools and kept polishing.
The sound of metal against stone—sharp, steady.
Just like my life.
No longer pausing for anyone.
Never looking back.
The End