The Last Choice
First.
Only. The night breeze brushed over my face, carrying the scent of cut grass and the sea that still lingered on Damien's clothes. He laced his fingers through mine, his palm warm and steady, no tremor, no hesitation, just the solid weight of someone who had chosen me, over and over, long before I dared to believe I deserved it.
Somewhere crickets started chirping, and the stars pricked through the dark blue sky, bright and soft. I didn't need the approval I'd spent half my life chasing. I didn't need to be the daughter they wanted, or the girl anyone else had left behind.