VibeNovel ad: 😍What happens next👉Click Here to read on

Ten years later, I ran into Liam Carter again at a class reunion. All our classmates, successful now, were married with kids. Only Liam was still single. "Serena, Liam's waiting for you. He hasn't dated or gotten married in years." They'd barely finished speaking when Liam walked in. He walked in, sharp in a suit, and everyone gasped. Ten years later, Liam was still drop-dead gorgeous. The youthful arrogance was gone, though. A calm maturity now settled in his brow. Knowing our history, they made sure Liam and I sat together. He kept sneaking glances at me, like he had a million things to say. But all he managed was a soft, "Rena, long time no see." "Yeah, long time no see." I responded blandly, my face completely devoid of any emotion about our long-awaited reunion. Childhood sweethearts, totally inseparable, but we ended up like strangers. I remembered the party after high school graduation, when he cut a slice of watermelon for the new transfer student. This time, I didn't cry. I just quietly ended things. "All because of a piece of watermelon?" "Yeah." He scoffed. "Fine. Just try to stick with it for more than a couple days this time. Give me some peace." I didn't say anything. I just grabbed my bag and left the private room. This time, he didn't immediately follow me out like he always did. He figured I was just throwing another tantrum, that in a few days, once I cooled down, I'd naturally come crawling back to him, just like before. After all, that's how all ninety-nine previous breakups went. But what he didn't know was that it was the straw that broke the camel's back. My heart, repeatedly stung and already riddled with holes, had finally run out of its last shred of warmth and hope. With that ninety-ninth breakup, I was truly done with him. Liam and I had always been known throughout the school as a match made in heaven. He was the school's golden boy, tall with long legs, a face so chiseled it was almost intimidating. He always rocked a cool, black windbreaker, all swagger and charm, drawing girls in like crazy. But his eyes? They were always, only, on me. We were childhood sweethearts, practically glued at the hip growing up. At our baby party when we were just one, it was like we picked each other, destined from the start. By seven, our parents had already joked about our marriage. At fourteen, we were passing love notes. Sixteen, he officially asked me out. Eighteen, we promised to get into the same college... Everything was perfect until our senior year. That's when Tiffany Hayes, a new transfer student, showed up in our class. When the homeroom teacher set up the "buddy system" for new students, she specifically paired Tiffany with Liam. She made it crystal clear: "If you don't take this on, you can forget about dating Serena Reed anywhere on campus." Liam, who was usually so aloof and distant, had no choice but to take on the assignment. At first, it was just regular tutoring sessions and showing her around campus. But little by little, things started to feel really off. When Tiffany mentioned she craved a cake from that trendy bakery in Soho everyone queues for, he ditched football training to get it for her. When Tiffany posted on Instagram that she was feeling down, he stayed on the phone with her all night. And get this: one time, when she had period cramps, he borrowed money from me to buy her hot cocoa... I was furious. We fought. And that's when I started breaking up with him, over and over again. The first time I dumped him, it was on the phone. There was this long silence on his end, then I heard his breathing, ragged and fast. It was a total downpour that night. He showed up at my place, soaked to the bone, and stood outside all night. His voice hoarse, he kept calling my name, begging me to forgive him. The second time I ended things, he skipped a whole day of classes, posted up outside my classroom door, his eyes bloodshot. He shoved a thick, messily written but totally heartfelt love letter into my hands, begging me to get back together, all humble and desperate. But as it happened more and more often, he finally seemed to figure out my bottom line... that I couldn't actually leave him! So, his apologies started getting lazier and lazier. What used to be an instant makeup turned into a day later, then three days, then a week... Until the ninety-ninth time. All that pent-up disappointment and heartache, simmering for way too long, just burst. I finally decided to leave him for good. The first thing I did when I got home? Fired up my laptop and, without a second thought, changed my top choice on the application. It was supposed to be NYU, our dream school, but I switched it to UCLA, clear across the country. Next, I started clearing out everything that reminded me of him. Limited edition plushies he'd given me, matching couple bracelets, little notes filled with sweet nothings, a thick stack of photos... Each one held a memory – sweet, bittersweet – but now they all felt impossibly heavy. I shoved it all into one massive cardboard box. The next day, I hauled that heavy box over to his place. His butler, who knew me well, showed me straight into the living room. In the spacious living room, he and Tiffany were sitting side-by-side on the plush carpet, playing the latest video game. They were super close, and Tiffany kept letting out excited squeals and sweet, flirty giggles. "Wow, Liam, you're incredible! I've been stuck on this level forever!" My eyes instantly fixed on the oversized black T-shirt Tiffany was wearing. It was the limited edition one I'd hunted down for his birthday last year, hitting up multiple malls just to find it. When he got it, he was so surprised he picked me up and spun me around a few times, then whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin, "Rennie gave this to me. I'm gonna wear it every single day." Turns out, his "wear it every single day" promise actually meant he could just casually lend it to another girl like this. Tiffany must've felt my stare, because she turned around. Saw me standing there with the box, and a sweet, innocent smile bloomed on her face. "Oh, hey Serena! You're here? Liam asked me to come over and play some games. And he even cooked me pasta himself! But I'm such a klutz, I accidentally knocked over my juice, so he lent me his shirt to wear. Hope you don't mind?" Liam didn't even flinch. He just lazily lifted his eyes, giving me a quick glance. His fingers were still flying across the controller. His voice was totally casual. "What do you want? Didn't we break up?" Watching him act like he didn't care at all, a wave of bitter self-mockery washed over me. I remembered the first time I'd brought up breaking up, how he'd been a mess in the pouring rain, practically begging me. Then I remembered how it took him longer and longer to win me back after our fights. And the last time, he'd just sent a WhatsApp message: "Stop being dramatic. I'll take you for BBQ tonight. He kept pushing my boundaries, and because I kept caving and forgiving him, he just got bolder and bolder. But he had no idea that even a camel eventually gets broken by the last straw. This time, the ninety-ninth breakup, I was genuinely done with him. "Exactly because we broke up, I wanted to return some of your stuff." "If you're just gonna be dramatic, you can just toss it. No need to bring it all the way over." "Okay." I nodded, no hesitation. Carrying the cardboard box, crammed with memories, I walked over to the giant dumpster nearby. Without a second thought, I just pitched the whole thing in. The box hit the empty bin with a dull thud. ###Chapter 2 I turned to leave. "Wait." He stopped me. "Take your stuff from my place too." He probably thought I'd be hurt by that, just like always. That my eyes would well up and I'd ask, "Liam, what the hell?" And then he'd smoothly say, "Let's not fight," and everything would just blow over again. But I didn't say anything. I just turned around, silent, and started to systematically clear out my stuff from this house – a place I'd once known so well, practically called it my second home. By the front door, those fuzzy bear slippers he'd specially bought with my initials; on the kitchen mug rack, the cute strawberry mug that was exclusively mine; on the living room couch, the light gray throw blanket I always used... I picked them out one by one, calmly tossing them into another empty cardboard box, as if I were just clearing out some irrelevant trash. Meanwhile, his little game with Tiffany started up again, a fresh round. During a break in their game, Tiffany announced she was thirsty, then very casually picked up his half-empty water glass and took a sip. And he, the serious germaphobe who used to cringe even at my half-finished boba tea, just glanced over and said absolutely nothing. Tiffany then pouted, saying she was hungry, craving specialty tacos from some old, far-off spot. He didn't hesitate, immediately getting up, grabbing his car keys, and walking right out the door. I watched it all, but my heart, strangely, didn't ache anymore. Just a numb, icy coldness remained. I grabbed the packed box and headed upstairs, needing to get the last few things from his room. The moment I pushed open his bedroom door, a figure blocked my path. It was Tiffany. A smirk plastered her face, triumph and challenge in her eyes. "You broke up with Liam. What are you even doing here, still trying to get a reaction?" I didn't want to get into it with her. "I'm just here to get my stuff. Make a clean break." "A clean break?" She scoffed. "You think playing these mind games is going to make Liam even look your way? He's so over your dramatics. Every time you threatened to break up, you just knew he'd come begging, didn't you? What else can you do besides cling to him?" "Let me tell you something. Everything you like, everything you want, I'm taking it. You copied his applications, hoping to cling to him forever, right? Well, too bad. I got into NYU too." I'm gonna take him from you, piece by piece, until he's completely mine. And you'll get a front-row seat to watch yourself lose." I wasn't going to entertain her bullshit. Clutching the box, I tried to walk past her. But she wouldn't let up. She grabbed my arm, her words turning even nastier. "What, did I hit a nerve? Cat got your tongue? Serena, seriously, have some shame! Your clinging is just disgusting! No wonder Liam got sick of you. Looks like your parents didn't teach you squat, raising a..." SMACK! The sharp sound of a slap echoed, cutting off Tiffany's vicious rant. I'd had enough. I lifted my hand and slapped her hard. I could handle being messed with, but no one, no one insulted my parents! She clutched her cheek, eyes wide with disbelief. Then her face contorted with rage, and she raised her hand to hit me back! Just then, I heard the front door open downstairs, followed by footsteps. He was home. Tiffany's eyes gleamed, a wicked idea already forming. She shrieked, then yanked my hand, dragging me down the stairs with her. "Aargh!" We both tumbled, hitting the first-floor landing with a sickening thud. My whole body screamed, every bone feeling shattered. My forehead slammed into the corner of a step, and warm blood instantly streamed down. Tiffany had taken a nasty fall too, but she scrambled up in a flash. Before I could even move, she clutched her face, strategically exposing the bright red slap mark I'd given her. Tears welled up instantly, gushing down as she sobbed dramatically, a perfect picture of distress. "Liam... Serena... she... she just came at me and hit me, then pushed me down the stairs... I'm in so much pain..." Liam's eyes swept over the chaotic scene, his face hardening into a grim mask. He strode over, his eyes first landing on Tiffany, who was sobbing hysterically. Then his gaze, colder than ice, shot to me, struggling to get back on my feet. His voice was laced with frost. "Serena! What the hell is wrong with you?! This is my house. Who gave you the right to lay a hand on my guest?!" I bit back a gasp, fighting the searing pain and dizziness. "She insulted my parents first, that's why I—" "Enough!" He didn't even want to hear it, cutting me off sharply. His eyes were full of disappointment and impatience. "I don't want to hear any excuses! Butler! See her out!" The Butler looked visibly uncomfortable, but still stepped forward, gesturing for me to leave. I watched him turn away without hesitation. He gently helped Tiffany up, then carefully cradled her to the sofa. He pulled out the first-aid kit and gently cleaned and dressed her wounds, as if she were some fragile, precious jewel. In that moment, my heart felt like it had been carved out of my chest. The pain was so intense, I could barely breathe. He used to treat me like that. I remember one time, I busted my knee in gym class. He went white as a sheet, totally panicked, and without a word, scooped me up and sprinted to the med center. The whole time, he kept whispering, "Don't be scared, Rennie, it'll be okay, the pain will be gone in a second. Back then, all his tenderness, all his frantic concern, it was all just for me. But now? All that care, all that patience, it was being showered on some other girl. All my explanations, all my hurt, they just choked in my throat, dissolving into a cold, crushing despair. I didn't say another word, just dragged myself out, every inch of me aching and humiliated. I went to the hospital alone. The check-up revealed a mild concussion and a bunch of soft tissue bruises all over. The doctor wanted me to stay for observation. While I was recovering in the hospital, my phone kept buzzing. It was Tiffany, sending all sorts of taunting messages, along with photos and videos of him doting on her. He spoon-fed her porridge, peeled apples for her, and even took her for strolls in the garden. I just stared at them, my face blank, not replying to a single one. My heart was totally numb. Her provocations didn't faze me one bit. ###Chapter 3 After I got out of the hospital, the class organized a graduation party. I really didn't want to go, but my friends talked me into it. The moment I walked into the private room, I saw Liam and Tiffany sitting glued to each other. Tiffany was smiling, feeding him a piece of fruit. He didn't refuse. When my classmates saw me, they all looked a bit awkward. They quickly gathered around, whispering, "Serena, what's going on? You and Liam... fighting again?" I calmly shook my head. My voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough. "Not fighting. We broke up." "What? Broke up?!" Everyone looked stunned. "Why? Liam was always so good to you!" "Yeah, seriously! When you got sick in senior year, he almost fought the dean just to get you a long medical leave!" "Oh, and! The surprises he'd plan for you every holiday? We were all so jealous!" "You two were the couple everyone thought would go from school uniforms to wedding gowns! How could you break up now, right before graduation?" Listening to them rattle off all his past 『greatness,' my heart felt like it was shriveling up in a pool of acid, bloated and throbbing. Yeah, he was that good to me once. Good enough that I genuinely believed he was my forever. But that's precisely why his later coldness and favoritism felt so utterly brutal. I paused for a beat, then said softly, "We weren't a match, so we broke up. Nobody's indispensable. Besides," My gaze flickered to him across the room, pouring Tiffany a drink. "He and Tiffany seem to be doing just fine now, don't they?" He happened to catch what I said, frowning as he looked my way, his eyes unreadable. For the rest of the night, it was like he was deliberately trying to spite me. He went out of his way to be even more overtly affectionate with Tiffany, super attentive, practically glued to her side. He probably expected me to get jealous, to get mad, maybe even storm over and break them up like I used to. But I didn't. I just sat quietly in my corner, chatting occasionally with whoever was nearby, my gaze calm and unruffled. As if he genuinely was just some random stranger, completely irrelevant to me now. But that utter silence, my complete dismissal, seemed to spark a kind of panic in him he'd never felt before. He instinctively started to move toward me, but Tiffany, right there beside him, grabbed his arm. Tiffany stood on her tiptoes, whispering something in his ear. He stopped cold, a deep frown creasing his forehead, and finally, just sat back down. Soon enough, someone suggested a round of Truth or Dare. A few rounds later, Tiffany lost. Her dare? Kiss the tallest guy in the room for three minutes. All eyes instantly snapped to him. Tiffany's face flushed, but her eyes held a challenging glint as she walked straight up to him. The other classmates gasped, whispering, "Whoa... this is totally messed up, right? Serena's literally right here!" Tiffany, though, shot a glance at me in the corner, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Serena, you and Liam are totally over. So, you're cool with us playing a game and kissing, right?" Her best friend immediately chimed in, "Seriously! She's his ex now, what right does she have to tell Liam who he can kiss?" Instantly, every eye in the room, including his, was on me like a spotlight. His gaze was intense, holding an unspoken pressure, as if he was waiting for my reaction. I lowered my head, my long lashes veiling any emotion in my eyes. My voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the silence, clear to everyone. "...Yeah, it has nothing to do with me." Those words drew a definitive line. His face instantly darkened, his eyes blazing with fury and a simmering rage from being defied. He let out a sharp, cold scoff, then abruptly pulled Tiffany by the waist. To everyone's shocked gasps, he slammed his lips onto hers! A wave of suppressed gasps and sharp intakes of breath swept through the private room, only to be swallowed by an eerie, deathly silence. I just watched as they full-on made out under the lights, practically glued to each other. Tiffany's hand even snaked up around his neck. My heart felt like it was caught in a vice, a sharp, cramping pain that nearly buckled me. I dug my nails into my palms, digging in so hard it hurt, desperately trying to keep the crushing bitterness and despair from totally drowning me, from making me lose it right then and there. It felt like an eternity, but that agonizingly long kiss finally broke. Tiffany's best friend practically yelled, "So, Liam, how was that? Kissing our Tiffany... gotta be a whole lot more exciting than with some other girls, huh?" His gaze swept over my pale face, a cold, cruel smirk playing on his lips. His voice was low, but every word cut deep: "No comparison. Tiffany... total knockout." ###Chapter 4 Tiffany's smugness was practically oozing off her. After a few more rounds, Tiffany lost again. This time, her dare was to sit on a guy's lap and complete a specific task. Tiffany didn't even hesitate, her eyes immediately darting back to Liam. I couldn't take it anymore. I shot up, muttered something about needing the restroom to my friend, and practically sprinted out of that suffocating private room. I hid in the restroom, splashing cold water on my face again and again, but the tears just kept coming, mixing with the water. It took forever to get myself somewhat together. I just wanted to go home. As I turned the corner down the hall, I heard familiar voices coming from the patio. It was Liam and his closest buddies. "Liam, dude, wasn't that a bit much back there? Serena looked ghost-white. Aren't you gonna go check on her?" "Check on her?" He scoffed, a cold sound. "So she can break up with me again in a few days? Am I a glutton for punishment?" "True... it's your own fault for spoiling her, though. She'd always pull the breakup card. Maybe this is a good chance for her to finally learn her lesson." Exactly. Once classes start at NYU, she'll be in a new city, won't know anyone. She'll definitely come crawling back. Then you just throw her a bone, and she'll beg for you back. After this, she won't dare threaten to break up with you again. Perfect. Standing outside the door, every drop of blood in me turned to ice. My hands and feet went completely numb with cold. So, in his eyes, all those times I tried to break up with him, all that pain and disappointment? It was just me 『throwing a tantrum,' just 『a way to manipulate him.' And his 『lesson' for me? To humiliate me in front of everyone by kissing another girl! I silently turned and walked away, down the stairs. The summer night wind brushed against me, but it was so cold it made me tremble. As I walked, memories flashed through my mind like a silent film. There was a time when, if I so much as frowned, he'd get all anxious, asking if I was feeling unwell. Back then, girls would constantly try to give him love letters. He'd always refuse them without even glancing, then come straight to me, looking for praise. "Rennie," he'd boast, "I rejected another one today, all on my own. Praise me!" I'd gotten so used to his kindness, to him treating me like I was his one-of-a-kind treasure. When did it all change? It started the day Tiffany showed up. He'd break his own rules for Tiffany, again and again, completely ignoring my feelings. It wasn't like I didn't notice how Tiffany was special to him, or how he treated her differently. I was just clinging to that last sliver of hope, using breakup threats again and again to test him, to try and win him back. But all it did was make him see me as annoying and childish. Turns out, once I wasn't his one and only anymore, even my tears were wrong. Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed I was almost home. From a distance, I spotted a mail carrier standing by my front door. Guess my acceptance letter finally arrived. I took a deep breath, just about to step forward, when I saw a tall, familiar figure standing with the mailman. It was him! He was holding one of the envelopes, clearly marked with UCLA logo, and he was about to rip it open...

🌟 Wow, what a hair transformation! 🌟 Our ambassador Cassia, a straightening specialist, doesn’t mess around on the job! She used her favorite ally, Grace Enzimoteraphy, to carry out this incredible hair transformation. Do you want to see what the whole process was like and the reaction of your satisfied client? Follow each step in the video! Do you want to know the benefits of Grace? Click on the link available in our bio. . . 🌟 ¡Vaya, qué transformación capilar! 🌟 ¡Nuestra embajadora Cassia, especialista en alisado, no pierde el tiempo en el trabajo! Ella utilizó su aliado favorito, Grace Enzimoteraphy, para llevar a cabo esta increíble transformación capilar. ¿Quieres ver cómo fue todo el proceso y la reacción de tu cliente satisfecho? ¡Sigue cada paso del vídeo! ¿Quieres conocer los beneficios de Grace? Haz clic en el enlace disponible en nuestra biografía.

🪞¿Te miras al espejo y ves una mujer más cansada de lo que estás?🫩 No es la edad. Es que nadie te había dado la solución correcta. Los Parches de Oro 24K de Gold Eelhoe combinan oro puro, colágeno marino y ácido hialurónico — los mismos activos que usan en las clínicas de estética — para ayudar a tensar, hidratar y dar luz al contorno de la mirada en solo 15 minutos. Sin cita. Sin desplazamiento. Sin pagar 80€ por sesión. Más de 10.000 mujeres en España ya los tienen en su rutina. 🔖 Hoy con 50% de descuento en packs. 📦 Pagas cuando llega a tu casa. 👉 Da click en ver más 👇 Haz clic en "Ver más" y descúbrelo.

The night I went into labor, my husband was choosing baby names with another woman. I knew because he answered my call on speaker. "Push through it, Camille," Damon said, distracted. "Vanessa needs me right now. Her panic attacks are serious." "Damon, my water just broke." My voice cracked against the cold bathroom tile. "I'm bleeding. Something's wrong." A soft, syrupy giggle floated through the line. "Damon, do you like 'Lily' or 'Rose'? For when we have ours?" He chuckled — warm, affectionate, a tone he hadn't used with me in months. "Whatever you want, sweetheart." I gripped the sink so hard my knuckles went white. "Damon. The baby. Our baby." A pause. Then a sigh, the kind you give a needy child. "Camille, we've been over this. The doctors say Vanessa could relapse if I'm not there. You're strong. You don't need me." His voice hardened. "Just take a cab to the hospital like a normal adult." Then I heard him whisper, away from the phone but not far enough: "Sorry about that. My wife's being dramatic again." The line went dead. I slid down to the floor, contractions ripping through me, blood pooling beneath my nightgown. I was thirty-four weeks pregnant with the child of Damon Hale — heir to Hale Industries, the man half the city would kill to marry. And I was about to deliver his baby alone. I didn't cry. I'd run out of tears around month six, when he started spending his nights at her apartment, "stabilizing" the fragile childhood friend who'd reappeared in his life like a ghost. Vanessa Cross. The woman who fainted on cue. Who texted him photos of her wrists every time I asked for an hour of his time. I dragged myself to the door, one hand cradling my belly. Hold on, baby. Mommy's got you. Even if no one's got us. The cab driver took one look at me and floored it to St. Augustine General. I was wheeled into delivery at 2:14 a.m. By 4:47 a.m., I was holding a tiny, perfect girl with Damon's dark lashes and my stubborn chin. The nurse smiled gently. "What's her name, Mrs. Hale?" I looked down at her. At the daughter her own father didn't bother to meet. "Hale," I whispered. Then I caught myself. "No. Just... give me a minute." Because three hours earlier, while I was screaming on a bathroom floor, my phone had buzzed one final time. A photo. Damon and Vanessa, foreheads together, her hand on his chest. The caption read: "Finally telling her tomorrow. You're the only family I've ever needed. — D" He wasn't planning to leave Vanessa. He was planning to leave me. I held my daughter tighter and made a decision that would burn his world to the ground. He thought I didn't need him. He was about to find out exactly how right he was.

Twenty minutes. That’s how long it took for me to change grooms. Right there, at the marriage license bureau in Las Vegas. Garrett, my fiancé of three years, had left me standing there alone to go deal with his childhood friend, who had supposedly taken a fall. He thought I’d wait, just like I always did. He thought I’d swallow the text he sent: *Don’t make a scene. We’ll sign when I get back.* But he didn’t know. This time, I called someone else. And twenty minutes after I sent my own text, another man walked through the door, holding a ring and his ID. His name was Noah. A lawyer who, as it turned out, had been in love with me for six years. He told me that for him, this wasn’t an impulse. It was a wish, finally granted. … My phone buzzed again. Another text from Garrett. *Sloane’s condition is worse than I thought. She refuses to go to the hospital, so I need to stay and watch over her. Baby, go back to Charleston without me. Don’t wait.* I stared at the screen, a laugh bubbling up in my throat, sharp and bitter. Don’t wait. Those two words were a perfect, painful summary of the last three years. Don’t wait for him to get off the phone with Sloane. Don’t wait for him to tear himself away from one of Sloane’s endless “emergencies.” Don’t wait for him to keep a single promise that didn’t get derailed by someone who always, always came before me. Today was the day we were supposed to get married in Las Vegas. And he was telling me not to wait. “Next, Ms. Bennett?” Behind the counter, a clerk with tired eyes and smudged glasses raised her voice. It cut through the thick air of cheap perfume and secondhand excitement, impossibly clear. Heads turned. I felt the curious glances of other couples prickle my skin, all of them staring at the lone bride-to-be, clutching her wedding paperwork. A hot wave of humiliation washed over me. I took a deep breath, stood, and walked to the counter. “Yes,” I said, my voice so calm it felt like it belonged to someone else. “I’m still getting married today.” The clerk blinked, her gaze dropping to the documents I’d handed her. Garrett Whitaker’s name was printed in bold. I ignored her confusion and pulled out my phone. I didn’t have to search my contacts; the name was already seared into my memory. Noah Caldwell. Six years ago, during a hurricane evacuation in Savannah, my car had broken down. He was a stranger who’d stopped to help me change a tire, then pressed a case of water and a box of emergency rations into my hands to make sure I got out safely. We’d only exchanged names and numbers. He’d said he was a lawyer, and to call him if I ever needed anything. In six years, I’d only called him once, to ask a question about a business contract for my floral studio. Now, I was calling in the favor. My fingers flew across the screen, no hesitation at all. *Are you in Las Vegas?* Sent. His reply was almost instantaneous. *Yes.* My heart gave a sharp, painful thud. *Clark County Marriage License Bureau. Bring your ID. Get here in twenty minutes and marry me.* The “read” receipt appeared. For a moment, the three little dots bounced at the top of the screen as he typed, deleted, and typed again, no doubt trying to process the sheer insanity of my request. Then the dots vanished. A short reply took their place. *On my way.* I set my phone face down on the cool laminate counter and let out a long, shaky breath. All right, Maya Bennett. You’ve finally done something completely, utterly crazy. But strangely, I wasn’t scared. All I felt was the quiet relief of someone who had just burned their last bridge to the ground. My screen lit up with a video call from my best friend, Jenna. I hesitated for a second, then answered. “Let me see it! Let me see the brand-new Mrs. Whitaker’s marriage certificate!” Jenna’s grin filled the screen, her Charleston living room bright behind her. “Not yet,” I said, my voice flat. “What? They......