Stranded by My Fiancé, Free for the First Time

The night we got engaged, Vincent Harrington stood with me before the floor-to-ceiling windows of our Ashbourne apartment, holding my hand. "Let's take a trip before the wedding. Where do you want to go?" "Kimbala." His eyebrows rose in surprise. "You don't want to go to Lumerre and look at the Riviera?" "No." Full of anticipation, I handed him my tablet. "I want to see the savanna after the rain and paint the acacia trees. No gallery openings to rush to in the morning, and no receptions you have to attend at night." I zoomed in on the campsite and pointed out the river on the map. "The guide says herds of elephants come here to drink at dawn. I want to paint them." He switched off the tablet, smiled at me, and kissed my temple. "We'll do it your way this time. Just the two of us." I spent six months preparing. I booked the camp, handled the paperwork, and packed my art supplies. Last of all, I placed a treasured box of watercolors in my art case. I had bought it with the first money I earned from selling a painting in art school. I slipped a blank sketchbook and several pencils into my carry-on. Then I added a white linen dress to my suitcase, imagining myself wearing it for him at sunset on the savanna. One week before we left, Vincent's stepsister, Daisy Monroe, posted a mountain-sketching itinerary in the family group text. She was his stepmother's daughter, three years younger than him, with no blood relation to him. Daisy: My professor says this series still needs one showstopping piece. I want to paint the Frostvale mountains while it's still winter. Vincent replied almost at once. Vincent: When? I'll go with you. My heart sank as I stared at the screen and slowly typed my reply. Fiona: But we're going to Kimbala next week. The rooms are already booked. He didn't reply. Instead, he called me. "Asteria can wait. Daisy's senior thesis show is only a month away." "You promised this trip would be just the two of us. Now you're changing the destination too, all so you can go with Daisy?" "Daisy is family." He gave a little laugh. "After we're married, you can't expect me to turn her down every time she wants to come along." I gripped my phone. "I'm not saying you can't spend time with her. But I've been waiting six months for this trip!" "We'll take a honeymoon by ourselves after the wedding." "So I'm still the one who has to change all the plans?" There was a brief silence. When Vincent spoke again, his voice had gone cold. "Are you really going to make me choose between you and Daisy?" I looked down. The wedding was close, and I couldn't bear to fall out with him over this. I was also still clinging to the promise of that honeymoon. In the end, I folded up my map of the savanna and changed our itinerary. Once I agreed, I wanted everything planned properly so we wouldn't argue again on the road. After canceling the camp, I checked the weather, booked the hotels, mapped the route, and packed a first-aid kit and snacks for the three of us. The gallery on the summit was discussing an exhibition with Vincent's foundation. Daisy wanted to participate, so I arranged a meeting for her too. She sent a kissing emoji to the group text. Daisy: Fiona always takes care of everything. With you around, Vincent doesn't even have to pack his own bags. The day we left was the second day of my period. My cramps had been bad since morning, and by the time I finished packing, my lower back was throbbing too. When Vincent arrived to pick me up, Daisy was already in the passenger seat with a cashmere throw pillow in her arms. She smiled at me. "I was revising my painting until 3 a.m., and my head is killing me. I want to recline the seat and sleep for a while. You don't mind letting me sit up front, do you, Fiona?" I braced a hand against my back. Before I could speak, Vincent opened the rear door for me. "She didn't get enough rest. You can sleep in the back. We'll be there soon." I looked at the pillow. Two years earlier, I had also gotten my period on the day we were due to leave on a trip. He had tucked that pillow behind my back, brought me a heating pad and ibuprofen, and refused to let me pack a thing. By the time I felt better, we were already 2 hours behind schedule. "So what if we're a little late?" he had said, smiling as he stroked my face. "What matters is that you're comfortable." My initials were still monogrammed on the cover. I stood by the car door, about to ask for it, but Daisy had already hugged it to herself and lain down. Vincent put my art case in the trunk, bent over to lower her seat, and asked with gentle patience, "Is that more comfortable?" I closed the back door myself.