After He Let Go
Two weeks before I stopped waiting, Ethan Hayes gave my island invitation to another woman.
Her name was Mia Lawson.
Twenty-six, pretty, soft-spoken, and always close enough to him that people had started pretending not to notice.
That night, everyone at our table went quiet.
Ethan didn't.
He placed the envelope in her hand and said, "You've been working too hard. Take a break."
Mia blushed like he had given her roses.
I looked at the envelope, then at the man I had waited eight years to marry.
That island was supposed to be ours.
The beach, the villa, the ceremony site facing the ocean. All of it.
Maya gripped my hand under the table and whispered, "Claire, say something."
But I only smiled, because if I opened my mouth, I was afraid I would beg. And I was done begging.
Two weeks later, on that same island, my phone kept lighting up with Ethan's name.
I didn't answer.
I was already wearing the white dress he had told me to return.