The bridal car glided through New York streets, the spring sun filtering through tinted windows, casting patterns on my white gown. One month of frantic planning had led here, the seventh wedding attempt, a number that felt cursed despite Marcus's optimism. I sat in the back, hands clasped in my lap, Mr. Hale, my old professor and mentor beside me, his steady presence a stand-in for my late father. He'd flown in from Chicago, his warm smile easing some nerves. "You look radiant than ever before, Elena," he said, patting my hand. "Your parents would be proud.""Thank you," I replied, forcing a smile, my mind racing with flashbacks. Marcus's proposal on the rooftop, the lilies he'd given me recently—wait, no, back then it was roses, Sophia's favorite, not my lilies. I'd accepted them silently, not wanting to nitpick. Now, it all felt like signs I'd ignored or was chosing to. Whispers from his friends comparing me to her, the way he'd light up at her mentions. But today was supposed to
Last Updated : 2025-10-13 Read more