Chapter 4

It was raining when I walked out of the reception hall.

August storms came fast and hard. Huge raindrops slammed into the pavement, splashing white against the ground.

I was still wearing the red reception dress Lydia had mocked. Within seconds, my hair and clothes were soaked.

Behind me, I heard my mother calling.

"Tanya! Tanya, come back!"

Then Charles's mother spoke.

"Honestly, how can she be so immature? Making a scene like this at her own wedding. What will people think?"

I didn't turn around.

My heel slipped in a puddle, and I nearly fell.

I took off my shoes and kept walking barefoot.

Rainwater mixed with mud, cold and filthy, but I no longer cared.

My phone kept vibrating inside my purse.

My mom had called more than ten times. My dad had called five times. Charles had called three.

There were also messages from relatives and friends, all asking what had happened.

I turned off my phone and flagged down a cab.

The driver hesitated when he saw how soaked I was, but he let me in.

"Where to, miss?"

I gave him the address of the apartment where I'd shared a place with a friend during college.

My friend had moved away after graduation, but the apartment was still empty. I'd never returned the spare key.

The cab drove through the rain for forty minutes.

When I arrived, I found only two hundred dollars in cash and a bank card in my purse.

My phone was dead, so I couldn't even order food.

Upstairs, I unlocked the door.

The apartment was almost empty, with nothing but a mattress and a chair.

I changed out of my soaked dress and crawled beneath the old blanket my friend had left behind.

For a long time, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then the tears came.

I'd loved Charles since I was five.

I'd spent twelve years following him around, believing that one day he'd look at me and see more than the little girl who'd always been behind him.

I'd thought our engagement meant we'd finally reached that day.

But yesterday, in front of everyone, he'd chosen Lydia without even asking what had happened.

And he'd hit me.

I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket over my head.

For the first time, I didn't want to think about how to make things right between us.

I just wanted to sleep.

As I lay there, I drifted in and out of sleep.

In my dream, I was five again.

Charles had just beaten up those bullies, and he turned to look at me.

Sunlight fell across his face. His eyes were bright as he said, "If anyone messes with Tanya again, they'll answer to me."

Then the scene shifted.

He was standing in the wedding reception hall, his face blank as he slapped me.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

The rain had stopped. A faint strip of pale light was showing along the horizon.

I grabbed my phone, plugged it in, and turned it on.

Messages flooded in. The phone vibrated for several minutes before it finally stopped.

Most were from my mom.

They started with "Tanya, where are you?" then turned into "At least text me back!" and finally, "What exactly are you trying to do? You've humiliated both families!"

There were a few messages from Charles, too.

"Where are you?"

"Tanya Larkin, are you done with this tantrum?"

"Answer your phone."

The last one had come in at two in the morning.

"What's the point of this?"

I stared at it, suddenly finding the whole thing absurd.

He'd slapped me, then asked me what the point of this was.

As if everything were my fault. As if I were the one who'd ruined the wedding.

I didn't reply to anyone.

I opened a delivery app and ordered a bowl of oatmeal.

When the delivery arrived, the doorbell rang.

I assumed it was the driver.

Instead, when I opened the door, Charles was standing there.

He was still wearing the gray suit from the wedding. His tie hung loose, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept all night.

He froze when he saw me.

I knew I looked awful. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen, and I was wearing an old T-shirt that must have belonged to my friend.

But what caught his attention was the red mark still visible on my cheek.

His eyes stopped there.

For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. His Adam's apple bobbed as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.

"You stayed here last night?"

I didn't answer. I turned and walked back inside.

He followed me in and looked around the nearly empty room, frowning.

"You live here? There's not even a proper bed."

"That's none of your business."

I sat on the mattress and took a sip of water.

He stood over me, looking down.

After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"Come back and finish the wedding. We'll pretend yesterday never happened."

I looked up at him.

His expression was perfectly calm, as if he were discussing something ordinary.

"Charles, do you really think I can't live without you?"

He frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"I said I'm not marrying you."

His frown deepened.

"Tanya, do you understand what you're saying?"

"I do. I've never been more sure of anything."

"Over one slap?"

Disbelief crept into his voice.

"I didn't mean to do it. Things were happening so fast—"

"Then why didn't you ask what happened?"

I cut him off.

"You walked in, saw Lydia on the floor, and immediately decided I was the one at fault. You didn't ask why we'd argued. You didn't ask what she'd done. You didn't even give me a chance to explain."

He opened his mouth, but I continued.

"She put on my wedding dress. My wedding dress, on my wedding day, without asking me. I told her to take it off, and she refused. When we struggled over it, she fell. That's all that happened."

Charles's expression darkened.

"She'd never worn a wedding dress before. She just wanted to try it on. Was that really such a big deal?"

I stared at him.

"Then was it really necessary to hit me?"

He didn't answer.

I let out a quiet breath.

"Charles, I chased after you for twelve years. I loved you for twelve years. I followed you around for twelve years."

He looked at me, his expression shifting.

But I wasn't finished.

"I thought you just weren't good at expressing your feelings. I thought you loved me but didn't know how to say it."

I glanced at the old mattress beneath me, then back at him.

"Yesterday finally made me understand that I was wrong."

I stood up and walked toward the door.

"Leave, Charles."

He didn't move.

I opened the door wider.

"I don't want to see you anymore. There's nothing left to discuss."

For the first time since he'd arrived, he seemed genuinely caught off guard.

He looked at the open door, then back at me.

"Tanya..."

But he didn't finish the sentence.

I didn't step aside or soften my expression.

After a long moment, Charles finally moved toward the doorway.

He stopped beside me, as if expecting me to change my mind at the last second.

I didn't.