“I still don’t know exactly what happened, but I know something was off. Last night before the bon fire, I found some evidence of things my parents did.” My voice catches. I love them dearly but there’s no other possible explanation to explain how we fell apart so neatly just like it was orchestrated. “I founda receipt showing they paid your internship director to offer you that spot. And there were also receipts to social media people. I’m assuming they paid all those social media people to post the rumors of me with other women. They clearly wanted you to forget about me.”
Her head snaps back as she turns toward me.
“I literally just found them, or I would have told you about it sooner. I’m upset, but in a way it’s a relief because it’s giving me clarity I never had before. I remember last summer overhearing my mom talking to someone on the phone, saying they were helping you to get ‘perspective.’ At the time, I didn’t know what that meant, but with the receipts, that has a different meaning now.”
Her mouth parts in shock, but I go on.
“I knew my parents weren’t perfect. But I never thought for a moment they would destroy my happiness. And when you left, they were right there for me, acting like they were the ones picking up the pieces.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to clear the frustration. So much of this still doesn’t make sense. “They said you were using me, that once you got what you needed, you were done. I didn’t want to believe them.”
“You did believe them.” Her voice is flat.
“At first, I did with my head, but my heart never fell for any of their lies.”
She blinks, and I press on, “It doesn’t matter,” I say fiercely. “They don’t matter. It took me a long time to realize it, but the only thing that should have mattered was you. And I failed.”
She turns away, blinking rapidly, as her lips press into a line.
“I’m not proud of how long it took me to realize the truth,” I add, softer now. “Truthfully, we were just kids who loved each other, and we both got played by the people who should’ve loved and supported us the most. You have to believe me. I trusted my parents, who I thought loved me. I know better now. They’vealways thought I should marry someone who has more social status. They have never said it directly, but they resent that you’re not from a wealthy family. I always shut that part out, assuming they’d get used to it, but apparently, they didn’t.”
Finally, she speaks, voice shaking, “They called me after we got engaged. A lot. I thought it was nice at first. Like your mom was making an effort to get to know me. She even told me personal things, like how you were struggling. That you weren’t sleeping. That you were dealing with anxiety and had to go to the doctor. They said you weren’t happy anymore.”
I flinch so hard it feels like I’ve been slapped. “What?”
“I thought, I thought maybe you regretted proposing.”
I lean toward her until I’m directly in front of her. “No.Don’t—no. I loved you. I will always love you.” My voice cracks, possibly as much as my heart, but I push through. “I wasn’t sleeping because I was under a massive amount of stress, walking onto a team as an underdog. And the press was all over me, trying to make me choke. I was also hiding secrets from my parents about my car. Everything seemed to spiral at night, and I couldn’t rest, I wasneverunhappy until I lost you.”
The air between us thickens, charged with magnetism. Her lips part as if to speak, but I don’t wait.
I kiss her, pouring every truth I’ve ever felt into it. Her hands curl into my shirt, holding on like she’s scared I’ll let go. When we finally break apart, neither of us utters a word.
It’s as though we know exactly what the other thinks.
No apologies are needed.
The waves kept rolling.
The sun kept sinking.
And we lean closer, just watching it set.
Everything unsaid finally starting to come to the light.
The moment we step back into the hotel lobby, the AC hits us like a cold slap. Koren is beside me, one hand gripping the top of her dress like it might betray her at any second. “Don’t laugh at me,” she mutters while looking at me.
I reach around her back and adjust my jacket for her, tucking it tighter around her shoulders for extra coverage. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I know that grin.” She wags a finger at me. “You’re thinking something.”
I was.
And it is hardnotto with her one-strap bridesmaid dress hanging on for dear life.
“There she is.” Koren points to the wedding coordinator standing outside the ballroom. We make a beeline toward her. Koren speaks before we even get her attention. “Hi—sorry—I, ah, don’t know your name, but do you by chance have a sewing kit? My dress had an accident.”
The woman barely blinks. “Of course.” She pulls a zippered pouch from her bag like she’s in the middle of a military operation. “I’ve got thread, needles, pins, tape, bandages, bug spray, Motrin, sunscreen. What do you need?”
“Just a needle and thread are fine.” Koren accepts the kit and turns to me. “Do you mind helping?”
