I followed her eyes and saw Brittany, laughing with Jasper, glowing like the sun itself.
My throat tightened, a sharp, unbearable ache rising in my chest. “She doesn’t know,” I whispered.
“Tell her,” Sierra murmured. “Before it’s too late.”
But it was already too late, wasn’t it?
Sierra brushed past me, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me standing alone with nothing but the hollow echo of music in my ears.
I drifted through the rest of the night like a ghost, my smile fake, my laughter thin. I stood beside Jasper during his vows, handed him the rings, gave the toast, clinked glasses, posed for photos — but none of it felt real.
Brittany caught me staring at her across the dance floor, and when she smiled at me, I felt my heart shatter all over again.
I held her in my arms during the last dance, her head resting on my chest, her fingers tangled in mine, and I wanted to memorize everything — the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin, the way she fit so perfectly against me.
“Are you okay?” she whispered, tilting her head to look up at me, concern clouding her eyes.
“I’m fine,” I lied, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Just… happy. I’m happy.”
And for a moment, I believed it.
For a moment, I let myself believe that I could hold onto this, just a little while longer.
We left the wedding late, slipping away from the reception, her hand in mine as we walked through the gardens under the moonlight. We kissed goodnight outside her room, her smile soft and sleepy, her lips lingering on mine.
“I love you,” she whispered.
And I almost broke right there.
“I love you too,” I choked out, my arms tightening around her like I’d never let go.
But I did.
I let go.
And when I finally closed the door to my room, when I finally collapsed onto the bed, when the silence wrapped around me like a noose — I broke.
I buried my face in my hands and let the sobs tear through me, raw and ugly and shaking. My chest heaved, my throat burned, my fingers dug into the sheets as if I could hold myself together by force alone.
I cried for her.
I cried for us.
I cried for the life we were supposed to have.
I don’t know how long I lay there, curled up on that bed, the moonlight spilling across the floor, my chest aching so badly I thought it might split in two.
But when the tears finally ran dry, when all that was left was a hollow ache and the sound of my own ragged breathing — I knew.
I knew I was going to lose her.
And there was nothing I could do.
Nothing.
I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my fists, hating myself, hating my father, hating the world that had handed me everything and then ripped it away in the same breath.
A soft knock at the door made me flinch.
