Ribbons Unbound: My Fiancé's Lingering Regret novel Chapter 29

He said that he would not marry her.

Because as his wife, she must prepare three meals a day, take care of her husband and children, and serve her parents-in-law.

He couldn't bear to let her go.

I stared at the screen and felt like something was pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I didn't argue or make a fuss.

The next day, I went back to the TV station.

Jackson didn't know that I also had a form.

It was an application form for transfer to Africa.

I was going to be a war correspondent.

The moment I signed my name, I took a deep breath.

The person I really loved was still on the battlefield.

I was going to find him back.

"You're going back to being a doctor?!"

The exclamation rang out abruptly in the hospital corridor that morning.

I handed over my reassignment application form, my tone unusually calm.

"Yes, I'd like to be stationed permanently in the DRC."

The director froze for a moment, taking the form from me, his frown deepening as he read.

"Zoey…"

He sighed softly, as though struggling to find the right words.

"Three years ago, your work in the DRC impressed everyone. But now? You just started your marriage leave! You're about to get married—how can you take such a risk?"

He stared at me, clearly waiting for a reasonable explanation.

I lowered my eyes, my fingers pressing lightly together. Then, after a brief pause, I spoke softly.

"I'm not getting married anymore."

"What?"

The director's expression turned to shock.

I raised my head, meeting his gaze directly, my tone resolute:

"Yes, I'm calling off the wedding."

Last night.

Jackson had gone out to shop for wedding tableware and asked me to send him the list of items saved on his computer.

"Has a younger brother, not considered."

Until the final entry.

The woman's name was Sara. Her page contained no ratings or detailed analysis.

It was blank—except for a single line in the remarks section:

"You are a bird, destined to soar proudly into the distance."

Her name is Sara

This time, I didn't hesitate.

I closed the folder, deleted all the files, and opened another one.

It was my unfinished application form—for a position as a doctor in the DRC.

Not long ago, I'd heard they were desperately in need of a surgeon.

As I signed my name at the bottom of the form, I finally understood:

I was never meant to stay in a cage that shackled a bird.

But more importantly, the man I truly loved was still there.