Franklin didn’t leave the gala.
He couldn’t.
He sat in his car, parked just across the glittering hall, watching the entrance through the windshield. The night was beautiful, alive with laughter and champagne dreams, but he felt none of it. His hands rested on the steering wheel, with his heavy heart.
His mother already left angrily, she booked her flight back to Chicago immediately and asked him to join her but he wouldn't, not until he got to talk to Thalia.
“I can’t leave without you, Thalia,” he whispered.
He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his worn black wallet. He opened it slowly, and there her picture came into view. The edges were old, faded, but her smile still shone like the first day he took that photo. His throat tightened as he brushed his thumb over
