Where the Flowers Go
I had poured my heart into planning the perfect wedding—for my female client.
Then I turned a corner and saw her kissing my boyfriend at the stairwell.
He chuckled softly. "No wonder you're my wife. You're stunning."
She let out a soft laugh. "Your little secret girlfriend still does not know you're marrying me. She actually wished me happiness—can you believe it? So… when are you planning to tell her?"
He tilted her chin and said, "Didn't we agree? Once we're married, we each live our own lives. Teresa is the love of my life. I hope you'll keep your mouth shut."
She gave a snort of laughter and yanked playfully on his tie. "Relax, babe. As long as you keep treating me right, I won't stir up trouble."
I felt like I had plunged into an ice bath. Face pale, hands trembling, I picked up my phone and texted my mentor:
[I'm ready to take the transfer to Luminous City.]
The reply came not long after:
[Three days from now. We'll go together.]