Chapter 3: What Hope Sounds Like

SOFIE

My phone rang just as I headed toward the subway. My heart lifted.

“Hey, Claire Bear.”

“Hey, SoSo!” Her voice bubbled with energy. “I’m on my way to help you get ready for the big day tomorrow. I’m staying over.”

Laughter slipped out before I could stop it. “Can’t wait to see you.”

By the time I got home, Claire had somehow transformed my apartment into something special. Not quite a bridal suite, but close. Thoughtful. Soft. The dress hung near the window like it had always belonged there, silk and lace catching the afternoon light in a way that made me pause.

The lavender candles she lit blended with the scent of freshly pressed linens, clean and floral and slightly too perfect.

I stepped closer, fingers grazing the fabric. The pearlescent sheen felt smooth, expensive, weightless.

Outside, the city kept humming. Horns in the distance. Someone shouting three stories down. Tires skimming pavement.

It was all still there. Loud and alive and familiar. And somehow, that grounded me more than anything else. “Okay, SoSo, relax and put your feet up. I’ll take care of everything,” Claire said, full of bossy affection.

I laughed and nodded, then stepped into my room. Out of habit, I checked my phone.

No missed calls. Still nothing from Andrew.

His distracted tone echoed in my mind, dulling the joy I should have felt. After eight years together, I still didn’t know where I stood next to his ambition. Is his heart still in this... or buried under his next deadline?

I pushed the thought aside and wandered back into the living room. Claire and I sat on the couch, face masks in place, wine glasses half-full, old stories tumbling out between us like they always did. Somewhere between laughter and silence, something in me started to give.

“I don’t think Andrew is as excited about the wedding as I am.” The words came before I could hold them back. Quiet. Shaky. Too honest.

Claire turned to me, but I couldn’t look at her. I stared at the rim of my glass instead, watching the wine tilt with every breath I took.

Even with her sitting beside me, the unease didn’t ease. It just stayed there, sharp and lodged under the surface. “Is it normal to feel this way the night before your wedding?”

“It’s okay to have doubts,” she said gently. “Love doesn’t always mean certainty. It’s about trusting what you’re building together.”

I nodded like I agreed, like I could absorb it and let it anchor me.

But what if I’m the only one building it?

I nodded, letting her words settle somewhere fragile inside me. They didn’t fix everything, but they gave me something to hold onto.

She nudged me, sensing the shift. “Do you remember when we first met?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “How could I forget? That December in Boerne feels like a lifetime ago.”

The apartment faded. I was back there, standing in the brisk Texas morning. Leaves crackled underfoot. Students passed in light jackets, their laughter floating on the breeze.

I stood alone on the playground, tugging at the sleeves of an oversized sweater. Their laughter felt like a language I didn’t speak.

“Hey, New York!” Willie called, his voice taunting and loud.

I turned, heart pounding, throat tight. His friends circled in close, their sneers sharp and certain.

Then Claire appeared. Small but fierce. All wild hair and sharp elbows.

She grabbed Willie by the hair and yanked him into a headlock. “Think you’re tough, bullying someone just because she’s the new kid?”

“Say you’re sorry,” she demanded, her grip unshakable.

His apology was barely audible. She shoved him into a puddle, her eyes still burning.

Back in the present, I laughed. “You were definitely intimidating.”

Claire smiled. “You were worth standing up for.”

A wave of emotion swelled inside me, gratitude, joy, sorrow. Tomorrow would mark a new beginning. Mom would have redone my hair three times. Dad would have practiced walking me down the aisle until it was perfect.

But they weren’t here. And Andrew... he felt more distant than ever.

I glanced at the clock. It was late.

Claire’s presence anchored me. Proof that family didn’t always mean blood. I thought of Andrew. Of everything we’d faced. This is just a rough patch. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.

I brushed my teeth and changed into the silk pajamas he’d given me on our last anniversary. The jasmine-scented lotion helped settle my thoughts.

I looked at the photo of us on my nightstand. His smile still flickered through me. That little spark of hope hadn’t gone out.

Please let our love be strong enough to carry us through this.

With the lights off and the city beyond the windows, I slipped beneath the covers. The quiet promise of tomorrow wrapped around me, and sleep came gently.

* * *

SOFIE

The sun rose over New York City, gold stretching across the skyline as the metropolis started to buzz. That early hum, the one that always made it feel like the city was breathing, rolled through the streets. 

Today was my wedding day. The one I used to dream about when I still had scuffed knees and plastic tiaras.

Outside, everything looked touched by spring. Cherry blossoms hung in soft pink clouds. Tulips opened wide beside them, bright and showy. 

Even the daffodils looked like they had something to prove. The air smelled like wet concrete and flowers, like the world had just been rinsed clean.

Tucked between the glass towers, the church waited. It looked old in the best way. Solid. Steady. The carved stone on the front steps had been worn smooth from years of weather and footsteps. 

Inside, colored light spilled through stained glass, soft and warm across the pews.

The air smelled like incense and lilies, the kind of mix that clung to everything: skin, fabric, memory. Satin ribbons trailed down the aisle, catching faint movement in the air.

It felt still. Like the whole space was waiting.

And there I was, standing right in the middle of it, one breath away from forever.

Claire stood close, her hand steady as she swept the brush over my cheek. Neither of us spoke. The only sound was that soft, repetitive glide, bristle against skin, again and again.

I reached for my mother’s pearl necklace. My fingers found the clasp. A small smile tugged at my lips, and then a tear slipped free before I could catch it. The memories hit fast and hard.

Spinning in her gown. Pearls clinking with each turn. Her laughter filling the apartment like music. Her arms wrapped around me, warm and safe. The whole world held together in that hug.

I wish you were here, Mom.

The weight of the day settled over me. This wasn’t just my wedding. It was my parents’ anniversary too. They had built something real. Steady. The kind of love I still wasn’t sure existed outside of them.

This didn’t just feel like my beginning. It felt like a continuation of theirs.

The dress hugged my skin, smooth and whisper-soft. Ivory lace and gold satin clung to my frame, the colors making the red in my hair stand out just enough. It fit like it had been waiting for me.

Claire adjusted my veil with a soft touch. “You look beautiful.”

I met her eyes in the mirror. They shimmered, holding back tears. She didn’t have to say anything. That look said it all.

Gratitude bloomed in my chest, messy and full. And beneath it, joy and hope.

“I always imagined having a marriage like theirs,” I said. My voice wavered, but I didn’t stop. “They were everything I want to be. And now I’m starting that same journey. On the same date. I want that kind of love.”

I hesitated. “I want to build a family. With someone who sees me. Loves all the way. No matter what. Something real. Something that doesn’t break when life gets hard.”

Claire gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “They would be so proud of you.”

I nodded, my throat tight.

She’d been my person since before we knew what that even meant. My friend, my sister in every way that counted. The one who stayed through the worst and reminded me to laugh, even when everything felt too heavy. My constant.

A flutter stirred low in my stomach. I let out a breathy laugh, but it didn’t quite land. “Will you check if Andrew’s ready? I’m nervous all of a sudden.”

She nodded, her smile small but warm. “Of course.”

The door closed quietly behind her.

Silence wrapped around me.

My heart beat loud in the stillness. My hands were damp. I rubbed them against my gown, trying to focus, trying to breathe under all the layers of lace and anticipation.

Calm down. It’s just nerves. This is normal.

But the silence didn’t ease. It pressed closer. Something wasn’t right.