CHAPTER TWO: THE SECOND GOODBYE

I didn’t wait for the crowd to speak. I didn’t wait to hear the gasps or see the pity in their eyes.

I ran.

Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to get away. I rushed past the flowers, the guests, the shattered eight years dream. My heels sank into the soft grass, and my dress trailed behind me like a burden I was desperate to leave behind.

I slammed the dressing room door behind me with trembling fingers. My legs failed me and I fell to the floor like a coat off the hanger . My chest burned. My heart, if it was still in there, felt like it was ripping apart, piece by piece.

I couldn’t breathe.

My wedding dress was tight, suffocating. The lace that once made me feel beautiful now felt like it was choking me. I clutched at it, dragging it off my shoulders. I couldn’t wear this anymore. Not when the man I had loved my whole life just told the world he didn’t want me.

Tears poured down my cheeks, soaking my ruined makeup. My lips trembled as I tried to whisper his name “Liam” but it burned too much to say it out loud.

I pulled myself to my knees and reached for one of the spare dresses in the open wardrobe. It was a simple ivory gown, one I had kept as a backup for comfort’s sake. It still had its tag on. I tore it off and slid into it slowly, my movements numb. I didn’t even zip the back. I just needed to get out of this room… out of this place.

The door burst open so hard the handle hit the wall.

My father stormed in.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He looked furious, like an air filled ballon about to explode. His eyes were sharp, his mouth twisted in rage.

“You had one useful thing to do for once in your life,” he growled. “One thing. And you couldn’t even do that.”

“Dad…” My voice cracked. “I didn’t… he just…” I muttered, hoping to get sympathy for once.

His hand came down hard across my cheek.

The sound echoed in the room before the sting hit. My head snapped sideways.

I didn’t move. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the floor. My cheek throbbed, but it was the look in his eyes that hurt most. Like I was nothing. Like I deserved this.

“I don’t want to see you in my house again,” he snapped. “You’re dead to me.”

Then he turned and stormed out, leaving me with nothing but the sound of my breathing and the echo of everything I had just lost.

I didn’t cry again. I thought I had run out of tears.

But my heart was screaming.

My father had never loved me.

Not once. Not even when I was a little girl who tried to hold his hand. He always pulled away. He never looked at me with kindness. Not me, not my sister, not even Mom. He only cared about being obeyed. About being feared.

My twin sister and I had tried to stay out of his way growing up. We never played too loud. We learned early how to read his moods, how to disappear when the air shifted. We weren’t close, not like people thought sisters should be, but we understood each other. A quiet bond built from surviving the same storm.

She had left a month ago.

Mom said it was for a business camp, but I knew the truth.

She ran. She saved herself.

Now I was the only one left. And I didn’t even have Liam anymore.

A sob rose again in my throat, but I forced it down.

I needed peace.

I needed comfort.

I needed my mom.

The only person who ever made the world feel safe.

The only one who never made me feel like a burden.

I didn’t know where else to go, so I went to her.

The hospital smelled like disinfectant and heartbreak.

I walked past cold white walls, my shoes clicking on the floor. The spare dress I wore flowed behind me, wrinkled and zipped halfway up. Nurses looked at me with confusion, maybe pity, but no one said anything.

I stepped into my mom’s room and stopped.

She was lying there like a fragile doll. Tubes ran from her nose, and her chest rose in quiet, tired breaths. Her hair was thinner than I remembered. Her skin looked too pale, her frame too small.

She looked so much older than forty-five.

I walked closer and sat beside her. I reached for her hand.

It was cold.

Not lifeless… just tired.

She opened her eyes slowly and gave me that smile, the one that always said, “I’m here, baby. Everything’s fine,” even when it wasn’t.

“Rachel,” she whispered. “Baby, you’re here.”

Her voice was soft but full of warmth. Just hearing it made the broken parts inside me stop shaking, even for a second.

I smiled even though my heart was breaking all over again.

“I’m here, Mom.”

Her eyes searched my face. “How did it go?”

I froze. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I wanted to tell her the truth. That Liam left me. That I stood at the altar like a fool. But how could I?

Not when she was like this. Not when her breaths were numbered.

“It was beautiful,” I lied.

She smiled wider, like she always knew it would be.

“I’m so happy for you,” she said. “Liam loves you. I can see it in the way he looks at you and there is nothing beautiful in this life than been with someone who genuinely loves you.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

That sentence had always been my mom’s anthem, and I knew it wasn’t just a statement, it was personal. She spoke from a place of sorrow, from the heart of someone who had never been loved by the man she loved."

“He was… amazing today,” I said. “Made everyone smile. Even the priest.”

She chuckled gently. It made me feel warm and guilty at the same time.

“Did your sister come?” she asked, her voice even softer now.

I shook my head. “No… she’s still at the camp. I didn’t want to interrupt her.”

Mom sighed and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, they were glassy with tears.

“I wish she’d called,” she whispered. “I miss her. I miss you both, even when you’re right here.”

“We love you, Mom,” I said quickly. “More than anything.”

She squeezed my hand faintly. “I know. You girls… you’re my whole world. From the moment I found out I was pregnant at nineteen, I knew I’d fight for you. Even when your father… didn’t want me to.”

My heart clenched.

“I remember,” I whispered.

“I wanted to give you both a better life,” she said. “I tried so hard, Rachel.”

“You did, Mom. You were perfect.”

She looked at me for a long time, her eyes soft and full of unspoken love.

“You’re so strong, Rachel. Stronger than you know.”

I blinked fast. The tears were coming again.

“Promise me something,” she whispered.

“Anything,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Take care of your sister. And your husband.”

I nodded, even though every part of that sentence hurt. I had no husband. I barely had a sister.

But I nodded anyway.

“I promise.”

“Do you have pictures?” she asked with a smile.

“Liam’s bringing them later,” I lied again. “You should rest now, Mom.”

She closed her eyes slowly. “Stay with me a little longer?”

“Always,” I whispered.

That night, I slept on the small couch by her bedside, holding tight to the little blanket that barely covered half of my body. The room was dark, cold, and quiet, except for the slow beeping of the monitor and the sound of her breathing.

It comforted me.

For a while, I dreamt we were safe.

Then I woke up.

Suddenly, there was noise. Footsteps. Voices. Panic.

My eyes flew open.

A nurse rushed in. Then another. Then a doctor.

“Mom?” I said, sitting up fast. “What’s happening?”

They didn’t answer me.

They moved quickly, crowding around her bed. One nurse pressed her chest. Another shouted instructions. Someone adjusted her oxygen. The heart monitor beeped faster… then slower… then

BEEEEEEP.

One long, sharp line.

“No.” I stood. My hands were shaking. “Please no.”

I tried to get closer, but a nurse held me back.

“Let us work,” she said firmly.

But I could see everything.

The way her body lay still. The way her chest didn’t rise again. The way the doctor’s face fell when the flat line stayed.

She was gone.

The beeping became a bomb in my ears. The room spun. My knees buckled.

“No. Please don’t take her. Please, not her…”

But no one answered.

Because she was gone.

The last person who ever truly loved me…

My mother.

My home.

My everything.

Was gone.