Indigo.A tiny squeak escaped me again.I clamped my lips shut, but it didn’t matter, my reflection in the bathroom mirror was already judging me. And I couldn't blame it. I was judging myself as it was.“Get it together, Indigo,” I whispered at myself… right before lifting my hand for the millionth time to admire the ring again.God. It was so pretty and shiny. And real.Slade Fallon had proposed to me.I fought back another squeak.For two days straight, I’d woken up squeaking, brushed my teeth squeaking, showered squeaking, breathed squeaking. I was a menace. A ring-obsessed menace.I sighed, tracing the band lightly, imagining today—Day One of Official Wedding Planning.Me. Slade. Baby Fallon baking in my stomach. Everything should’ve felt perfect.But then the thought slammed into me out of nowhere.A wedding filled with HIS friends. HIS colleagues. Cameras. Judging eyes. Whispers.It was literally just people he knew. Fuck, that'd be intimidating.Get yourself together, Indigo.
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