Chapter 2

A loud, frantic banging jolted the house awake.

“Evan! Lucky’s gone!” Faith’s voice trembled from behind the door. “He must’ve sensed that someone here doesn’t like him. Please, help me find him!”

Evan didn’t even glance at me. Didn’t hear me call his name.

In three hurried strides, he was at the door.

Throwing it open, he pulled Faith into his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“Don’t be scared, I’m here,” he murmured into her hair, like a protective lover in a tragic novel.

Then he turned to me, voice like thunder. “Well? What are you standing there for? Get up and help find Lucky!”

And just like that, I was dismissed again—forgotten in my own home.

We eventually found Lucky curled up in a bed of crushed daffodils behind the garden.

Faith and Evan rushed over, kneeling beside him like he was their child. They parted the grass carefully, afraid even their breath might hurt him.

I stared at the scene, numb.

March was when the daffodils bloomed—my favorite time of year. I had planted them myself, dreaming of using them to build the flower wall for our wedding. Every bloom had held a piece of my hope, my love, my future.

Now? Broken stems. Fallen petals. Crushed dreams.

I dropped to my knees and tried desperately to reattach the stems, to fix what had been destroyed. As if by putting the flowers back together, I could piece myself back together too.

“Camila, forget the flowers,” Evan called out impatiently. “Run some warm water. Lucky needs a bath.”

He didn’t even remember. We had planted these daffodils together. He once held my hands in the dirt and whispered, “Daffodils mean our love will never fade.”

And now? They meant nothing to him.

Back inside, Evan was sitting on the floor, towel-drying Lucky with all the tenderness he used to give me.

A bitter laugh bubbled up my throat. “Evan... is Faith’s dog more important than your own wife?”

He didn’t even flinch. “Camila, don’t be ridiculous. Are you really jealous of a dog now?”

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang.

I opened it—and there stood the designer from my studio, arms full of delicate white lace and fabric.

My wedding dress.

Faith gasped the moment she laid eyes on it. She rushed to the mirror, holding the gown in front of her.

“Oh my god, it’s breathtaking! It’s like something out of a dream,” she said with awe. “Camila, did you design this yourself?”

Before I could stop myself, I stormed over and snatched it from her hands.

This wasn’t just a dress. It was mine. I’d spent three years perfecting every seam, every fold, every delicate daffodil petal sewn by hand.

Faith looked hurt. Evan’s eyes darkened. Without hesitation, he reached for the dress.

“Camila,” he said firmly, “our wedding’s been postponed. Let Faith wear it first.”

I clutched the gown tighter, my fingers trembling.

“Every daffodil on this dress... I sewed each one with my own hands. Petal by petal. It’s mine.”

I pulled too hard. The fabric bunched, creased. The dress—the dream—crumpled in my arms. Helpless, I dropped it.

And then, I broke.

I sank to the floor, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed like my soul was tearing apart.

“Evan... why can’t you just let me have this one thing? Why are you giving my wedding… my dress… to her?”

I had held on so tightly to the idea that he loved me. That our wedding still mattered. But he just stood there, frozen.

Until Faith began crying too.

“Evan…” she whimpered, “the doctor said… the cancer’s in its final stage. My liver’s failing. I probably have a month left—at most.”

She looked at me, eyes watery with pity.

“Camila, you’re so lucky. You survived last night’s accident. You have Evan. You have a lifetime ahead.”

I stood abruptly, my heart pounding with fury.

“No. I don’t have a lifetime,” I snapped. “You’re dying—but that’s your tragedy, not mine.”

I shoved her, and she fell back onto the floor. Evan rushed to her side like I’d committed a sin. His voice trembled.

“Camila! It’s just a damn dress! Why are you making this such a big deal? You’re a designer—just make another one!”

But that was the point. I couldn’t make another one. I didn’t have time. All I wanted… was one moment. One wedding. One dream fulfilled.

Evan picked Faith up in his arms and headed for the door. I screamed after him, desperate and breaking.

“I only have six days left! Can’t you just give in to me this one time?”

But he didn’t look back. He walked out the door and took my heart with him.

The dress still lay on the floor, twisted and wrinkled like a discarded promise. I dropped to my knees and tried to smooth it out, my fingers trembling.

Tears fell freely, soaking into the lace.

And just like that, the wedding I’d dreamed of became the grave for my most beautiful dream.