With Isla gone, I cleared out my stuff from our place, shipping it to a small house I'd bought in Joravia Town. Every trace of our bond vanished. The night before the ceremony, Isla came home, holding a restored photo—our first together under a blooming pear tree. Nathaniel's dog had torn it up, but she'd had it fixed.
"It's just like before," she said, smiling.
I stared at her. "Make me some noodles tonight. Like old times."
She agreed, but as the bowls hit the table, her phone rang. Her face tightened, and she apologized. "Work emergency."
"Go," I said, stirring the noodles. "Plenty of time later."
She hugged me, grateful. "I'll be late, Evan. Don't wait up. I'm so excited for tomorrow."
"Me too," I muttered, my smile hollow. Excited to see your face when you realize what's coming.
