The softest, most guarded place inside me—the part I never let anyone near—was shredded to ribbons.
Rhys was everything. Too good. So good I never felt worthy of standing beside him.
I had clung to every smile he gave me, hoarded every moment of warmth like a beggar counting coins.
But the longer we were together, the more terrified I became.
Between us lay a chasm I could never cross, and it left me no choice but to tear myself away.
Now I couldn't even bring myself to explain. Not a single word.
I deleted his contact immediately.
Because if I replied—even once—I knew I'd never be able to let go.
I don't remember how I made it back to my room.
All I could do was wrap my arms around myself, bury my face between my knees, and cry until there was nothing left.
That afternoon, Stella posted photos in the family group chat—snapshots of her and Rhys out together, sightseeing.
Every image dripped with easy, tender closeness.
My mother enlarged them one by one, studying each photo, then going back to study it again.
A faint smile curled at the corner of her mouth—so small it was almost invisible.
When she caught me watching, she let out a sharp scoff.
"Showing off. All smiles today—tomorrow she'll be crying somewhere, just you wait."
"These rich boys love stringing girls along. If you left it up to him to register the marriage, he'd drag his feet forever."
As she spoke, my mother fired off a message in the family group chat.
[Stella and Rhys are so in love—when are they going to make it official?]
Aunt Grace's reply popped up almost immediately.
[No rush. Young people should focus on their education first. I fully support them establishing their careers before settling down.]
My mother curled her lip. "See that? They haven't even gotten started, and your aunt's already scrambling for excuses to stall us."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she talked.
[Irene is registering her marriage with Joel Lambert tomorrow. You two better pick up the pace.]
My head exploded.
Every ounce of reason I had was swallowed whole by the fury rising from my gut.
"Mom, what the hell are you talking about?"
"When did I ever say I was registering a marriage with Joel Lambert?"
She shot to her feet.
"I already accepted his betrothal gift. You ate the dinner tonight, you met the relatives—what, you're going to back out now?"