All Chapters of UNWANTED BRIDE : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Luca. For the next few weeks, I started showing up.Every Wednesday, I met her at Cedars. We sat in that freezing cold chemo ward, her hooked up to a machine and me sitting beside her with a thermos of ginger tea and crossword puzzles. It was awkward at first more silence than conversation, more effort than ease. But something kept pulling me back.I think I just wanted to know her. Not the ghost of the woman who left, not the polished stranger from the gala, but her. The real version, vulnerable, tired, still stubborn as hell, and funny in these dry, biting ways that reminded me of how I used to be before all the walls went up.We started talking. Really talking.She told me about the years after she left. How she moved up the coast and worked at a bookstore. How she tried therapy but didn’t stick with it. How she'd go months without hearing her own voice except for muttering to her cat.I told her about the first audition I ever went to. How I nearly puked from nerves. How the fir

Lila. He should have been here by now. I said to myself as I looked at my phone again. There were no missed calls or texts from him. And every time I kept assuming maybe he was still on air, that's why but I was starting to get pissed because deep down I knew he would disappoint me as usual. It’s nearly three in the morning. The fluorescent lights above hum like a warning I keep ignoring, buzzing just loud enough to remind me I shouldn’t be here. The vinyl seat beneath me creaks every time I shift, but I can’t get comfortable. My legs have gone numb from sitting too long, and the Styrofoam cup of now cold coffee in my hands is more for something to do than anything else. It tastes like burnt water.The hospital hallway is quiet except for the occasional nurse passing by, their shoes whispering against the tile. I’ve been here for hours ever since I got the call about my son Kyle, being . “Stable,” they said, but stable doesn't mean safe. It doesn’t mean okay. He had ati still be mon

Lila. The drive back to the house was fast and really calm that I barely noticed. A big part of me was happy I was finally bringing Kyle back home, but a part of me was still stuck on everything that had gone down in the last twenty four hours. The cab pulls up to the townhouse on West 76th quiet, tree lined, all that old money charm Jake said he wanted when he decided it was “time to settle down.” I remember the day we moved in, just six weeks ago. It was raining. Jake said that was good luck. Even though our relationship was not real, it almost felt real. Now it just feels like foreshadowing. Like I was going back to a place I was never wanted, but Kyle needed to be home, he needed to feel the comfort of a home. I thank the driver, and help Kyle out, and gather the duffel bags. They feel heavier than when we left the house two days ago. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe grief has weight. Maybe disappointment does too.Kyle yawns as we step through the front door. “Can I watch cartoons?”

Lila. By the time I get back to the house, my mood has settled into something cautious. Not exactly good, but not bad either. The kind of in between where the world feels still for a moment, like it’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.I unload the groceries, put the gelato in the freezer, toast a slice of the sourdough for myself like I’m some kind of person who’s got it all together. I even make a cup of tea green, no sugar like that’s going to cleanse me of the last two years of my life.Then I make the mistake.I check my phone.Not for Jake. Not intentionally. I just swipe up to clear some notifications, to mute the noise.But one catches my eye.Another Jake Anderson Sighting: I don’t click it. I don’t have to. The preview is enough: a grainy photo of Jake through a half open window, shirtless, holding a wine glass, standing in front of a city skyline that isn’t ours. The woman that woman is curled up on the couch in a silk robe, legs draped over his lap like it’s the most nat

LilaI was lying on my bed, tangled up in a mess of pillows and soft sheets, the phone pressed close to my ear. Nick’s voice, smooth and teasing, poured through the speaker like warm honey. I don't know the last time I was this happy, just genuinely happy and having fun being playful. “So if I’d been there tonight,” he said, voice dropping a notch, “what would we have done after dinner?”I laughed, low and lazy, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “I don’t know… depends on how good you behaved.”“Oh, I’d behave,” he said, that flirtatious lilt creeping in. “At first.”I grinned, biting my lip to keep the giggle from escaping. Talking to Nick like this had become a guilty pleasure, something exciting and easy, a break from everything complicated.Then came the knock. It was almost midnight and Kyle was already asleep so it was weird for someone to be knocking at my door this late at night. I sat up, heart stuttering for just a second as I turned toward my bedroom door. The kn