Lost Me Gained Regret

Chapter 315
I stepped aside to let him in, kicking off my shoes. I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Did you find something about my origins?–
He paused and chuckled. “How did you guess right away?”
“What’s up?” I was dying to know. Even though my parents had passed away years ago, it mattered a lot to me whether I was
their chitzt.
He sat on the couch, handing me a file as he sighed. “It turns out Allen was just spinning tales. You can stop worrying about it. It
would only make your folks sad, wherever they are.”
When hearing that, my anxious heart finally settled, and I began flipping through the files, like my birth certificate, medical
records from throughout my life, blood type, and date of birth. Everything matched. With each detail I had confirmed, my heart
settled a bit more.
I was utterly at ease then. There was no mistake. I was the child of my parents, and their love for me was always genuine.
“Thanks, Mark.” I said gratefully, “Have you eaten yet? There’s food in the fridge. I could whip something up for you...”
“I’ve had a work dinner. That’s why I’m here so late,” Mark declined and playfully scolded, “But didn’t you promise not to be so
formal with me?”
“Huh?” I was stunned.
He smiled. “You promised not to be so distant, remember?”
“Sorry...” It seemed like a habit.
Mark looked earnestly at me. “No need to apologize. Just take your time. Whether we’re just friends or whatever, I don’t want you
to feel like you need to be polite.”
“Okay.” I smiled, accepting his words, and felt a sudden warmth at the affection in his gaze, quickly looking away.
Luckily, he didn’t push further. “It’s getting late. I should head out.”
I got up. “Let me walk you out.”

“How are you with Gregory?” he asked as we headed to the foyer.
“With him?” I was puzzled.
7
He gave me a look. “I feel you’re different around him.”
“No, not really,” I felt strangely defensive. “Just acquaintances.”
Or maybe not even that. Being a friend to someone like Gregory meant I was one of many, and I was well aware of that.
After Mark left, I flopped onto my bed, scrolling through Gregory’s social media until I found that photo of the bunny piggy bank
from three years ago. He rarely posted, so it was easy to find.
It was a photo with no caption. The pink, slightly ugly bunny piggy bank was by the pillow, bathed in sunlight, exuding a sense of
peace and cherished memories.
Just looking at the photo made me feel his fondness for it. The guilt in my heart deepened.
Too embarrassed to ask for a ride again, I texted Gregory the next day and took a cab to work. He didn’t reply.
Life suddenly became unusually calm. I focused on designing outfits for Ramona and Adah, blending modern styles with their
unique personalities and preferences.
I slept better than expected the night before Bryant and Dorothy’s engagement party.
Getting ready the following morning felt like any other workday. Dressed in a casual white turtleneck, light blue jeans, and flat
boots, I grabbed my bag and slipped into Christine’s car.
It wasn’t until we pulled up at the hotel that the reality of the situation hit me. I was there to attend my ex–husband’s engagement
party. I was attending the celebration of a man I had, by some twist of fate, loved for years.
No matter how much I wanted to be indifferent, seeing “Bryant & Dorothy” displayed together at the banquet hall entrance stirred
a wave of melancholy in me.

Christine glanced at the fairy–tale–like, dreamy decorations inside the hall and snarked, “Money sure makes a difference. A
second wedding is even more lavish than the first.”