The next morning, my phone's ringtone jolted me awake.
"Hello, Miss, this is Dreamweaver Pavilion. You left a wish bag with us a year ago—it's ready for pickup."
I remembered that day three years back when Dreamweaver Pavilion opened in Argentum Town. I'd been passing by and, on a whim, scribbled down my deepest wishes, hoping they'd come true someday. Half an hour later, I was there, taking a faded wish bag from the staff's hands. Inside was a wedding band—mine and Damien's, the one thing I'd once treasured above all else. Next to it was a yellowed slip of paper with my old wishes:
1. Mend things with my parents and be a family again.
2. Make Damien see my worth, even if it takes forever for him to love me.
My eyes stung as I read them, and I sank to the ground, tears welling up. A s
