Allison POV
The morning sun shone through the tall windows of the grand dining room like a physical assault. It was too bright, too cheerful, not at all daunted by the sensation of my chest being hollowed out with a rusty knife. I was so focused on the fine pattern of flowers on my teacup that I didn't notice the aroma or the taste of the hot tea. I was so absorbed in the intricate design of the flower pattern on my porcelain cup that I failed to smell the hot tea or taste it, even when I shook my fingers with a tiny tremor.
I was drowning. A whirl of smells overtook me in the room, a sensory overload of freshly brewed espresso, luxurious pastries, and the sad, sinister weight of reality.
Fiancée.
I had been tossing it around in my head all night and had been unable to sleep. I had bee
