And now? Now she was staring at photographic proof that everything—every illusion of perfect closure, of forward momentum, of curses broken—had cracked open again.
No. Wait.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe deep.
This wasn't her. Not this time. Anna and Drake had fought before the wedding. Hell, they'd bickered over napkin folds during the rehearsal dinner, and it had ended in laughter and stolen kisses.
Arguments happened. Honeymoons were stressful with jet lag, bad room service, and the weight of forever crashing down after the wedding high.
She had watched them vow their hearts out under a pergola strung with lights that she'd hand-tested for flicker.
Zach's voice echoed in her head, low and sure from that night telling her he loved her.
For one stupid, desperate second, she let herself believe in the fantasy of a happily-ever-after. Let the warmth of his hands on her hips, the way he'd whispered her name like a secret, push back the shadows.
Maybe this was just life? Messy, unglamorous, survivable.
But her chest tightened as a new wave of messages poured in.
Shelby: I know what you're thinking. I know you. Stop it. This is not on you.
Piper didn't type back. She didn't text. Didn't call. Didn't breathe.
She sat very, very still, like movement might make it all worse.
No, no, no.
Her pulse pounded in her ears as that old familiar narrative barbed wire wove its way through her brain.
I'm the common denominator. Always have been.
A quiet sound escaped her throat—half laugh, half ache.
Of course she'd ruined it. Of course she had.
Anna had only wanted something simple and safe and real. Drake spoke his vows with fierce, teary eyes. That moment under the pergola made it all seem like it would last.
Piper dared to believe in it.
That had been her mistake.
With her record—all the parental divorces, cancelled weddings, postmarital break-ups—it didn't matter how flawless her execution was. She knew how this would end.
Why did she allow it to surprise her?
She tried to call Anna. Typed in the numbers, but went straight to voicemail.
She stood slowly. Her hands gripped with twisted resolve. A rope fraying too fast to save.
Zach's name flashed on her phone screen, calling.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she moved down the hallway like her body was separate from her logic, heading straight for Aspen where she was meeting with another junior planner in the conference room. Their murmured voices floated under the door.
It was mid-meeting, but Piper didn't care.
She knocked once, pushed it open.
