The low thrum of music and clinking glasses bled through the thick oak doors of The Willows, a sound that should have been celebratory.
To me, standing under the pale glow of a gas-style lantern on the stone patio, it sounded like a requiem for a life I was no longer sure I wanted.
My dress, a deep emerald silk that had felt like armor when I put it on, now felt like a costume. A lie.
My phone was heavy in my hand, the screen dark. I hadn’t looked at it in an hour, but I could still feel the phantom weight of Rhys’s text from that afternoon.
*Whatever you decide, I’m here. Not going anywhere. *
He wasn’t. He’d proven that last night, standing in my doorway, rain-slicked and resolute.
He hadn’t just spoken of a future; he’d built a bridge to it, plank by plank, with a portfolio of my work and testimonials that made my own heart ache with a fierce, forgotten pride. He’d laid himself bare, offering not an escape, but a place to land.
I’m done running, he’d said, his voice raw with a sincerity that had stripped away all my defenses. *I want to plant roots. With you. *
Chaos and passion. A messy, complicated, beautiful future. That was his offer.
Inside that dining room, with my parents and my sister and all the people who had known me my whole life, was the other offer. The one I’d been chasing for years.
Stability. A white-picket fence kind of love.
A man who fit neatly into the box I had designed for my life long before I knew how small that box truly was.
A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I couldn’t hide out here forever.
I had to go in, face them, play the part of the happy, soon-to-be-wed sister-in-law. I had to smile and pretend the ground wasn’t cracking open beneath my feet.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath that tasted of night-blooming jasmine and impending doom, I started for the door.
“Ava?”
I froze, my hand hovering over the cold, brass handle. The voice was a ghost from a past I was still living in. I turned.
Marcus stood a few feet away, silhouetted against the warm light spilling from the venue’s windows. He’d taken off his suit jacket, and his tie was loosened at his throat.
He looked tired, his shoulders slumped in a way I knew meant he was carrying the weight of the world, or at least, the weight of our world.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with a concern that felt like a warm blanket I desperately wanted to shrug off. “Everyone’s asking for you. Jessica’s about to give her toast. ”
“I just needed some air,” I lied, my voice thin.
He closed the distance between us, his familiar scent of sandalwood and clean linen wrapping around me. It was the scent of Sunday mornings, of shared beds and whispered secrets, of a life I had once craved with every fiber of my being.
“Is this about the article. Ava, I told you, we’ll get through it. My father has his lawyers looking at—”
“It’s not about the article, Marcus. ” The words came out sharper than I intended.
He flinched, then his expression softened into one of pained understanding. “It’s him, then. ” It wasn’t a question. “It’s about Rhys. ”
My silence was answer enough.
He sighed, a heavy, defeated sound that scraped at my insides. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up for the first time all night.
“I know I messed up, Ava. I know I was a coward. When all of that happened, when the press came after you, I should have stood by you. I should have been a shield. Instead, I… I listened to my father. I thought about appearances. I failed you. ”
He took another step, his eyes, earnest and pleading, searching mine in the dim light. “But I’m not failing you now. I see my mistake. I see you. I see everything I almost lost. ”
He reached out, his hand gently taking mine. His skin was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the frantic pulse hammering at my wrist.
“I know the last few weeks have been… confusing. He’s exciting, I get it. He’s a whirlwind. But what happens when the wind dies down, Ava. What’s left?”
My throat was tight, a desert. I couldn’t speak.
“I’m offering you what’s left,” he continued, his thumb stroking the back of my hand in a soothing, hypnotic rhythm. “I’m offering you the morning after. The quiet moments. A home. A family. Forgiveness. I love you. Not in that wild, burn-it-all-down way he probably does. I love you in a way that lasts. A real love. The kind you build a life on. ”
Every word was a carefully chosen brick, rebuilding the dream I had once so painstakingly designed. He was offering me the blueprints back. Stability.
Forgiveness. A love he promised would be real this time.
My old dreams, gift-wrapped and presented with a heartfelt apology. A few weeks ago, I would have wept with relief. I would have fallen into his arms and thanked God for this second chance.
I looked at him, really looked at him. The kind slope of his jaw, the worry etched between his brows, the genuine love shining in his eyes. He was a good man.
A kind man who had made a mistake out of fear, not malice. He was everything I used to think I wanted.
He was safety and security and the approval of my family all rolled into one handsome package.
And as he stood there, offering me my own past, a strange, quiet calm settled over me. The storm inside me stilled.
The two paths that had been tearing me apart converged into one, and for the first time, the way forward was painfully, terrifyingly clear.
I gently slipped my hand from his.
The loss of contact was a physical blow. I saw it in the way his shoulders fell, the way the light in his eyes flickered.
“Marcus,” I said, my voice finally steady. “You’re offering me a beautiful dream. It’s the dream I’ve had my entire life. ”
A fragile hope bloomed on his face. “Then take it. Let’s wake up in it together. ”
I gave him a sad, small smile. “I can’t. ”
The hope shattered. “Why. Because of him. Because of some fling with my best man. Ava, that’s not real life. ”
“No,” I said softly, firmly. “Because of me. ”
He looked lost, utterly confused. “I don’t understand. ”
“You deserve someone who chooses you, Marcus. First. Without a moment of doubt or hesitation. You deserve a woman who hears that beautiful speech and doesn’t have to weigh it against another life. A woman who sees you and knows, with every cell in her body, that you’re her home. ” My voice cracked on the last word, and I swallowed hard against the lump of unshed tears. “I can’t be that woman. Not anymore. ”
He shook his head, a desperate, jerky motion. “Yes, you can. We can get back to that. ”
“But that’s just it,” I whispered, the truth of it landing with the force of a physical impact. “I don’t want to go back. The person who wanted that life, who fit into it so perfectly… she’s gone. Maybe she was never really there at all, just a version of me I thought I was supposed to be. The woman I am now is… messier. She’s more complicated. She makes mistakes and she wants things that scare her. And I have to be brave enough to choose her. I have to choose the person I’ve become, not the person I used to be. ”
He stared at me, the reality of my words finally sinking in. The hope drained from his face, leaving it hollow.
He looked older, wounded. “So this is it?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the distant strains of a string quartet.
“You’re just… throwing us away?”
“No,” I said, my heart aching for the pain I was causing him. “I’m letting you go. So you can find someone who deserves the wonderful future you’re offering. And I’m letting me go, so I can find mine. ”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stood there, a statue of a forgotten dream.
Finally, he nodded, a single, sharp dip of his chin. It was an admission of defeat, an act of grace that was so quintessentially him.
He was a good man, even in heartbreak.
“I hope you find it, Ava,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I really do. ”
He turned then, without another word, and walked back toward the music and the light, leaving me alone in the cool darkness.
I watched him go, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a cold path down my cheek. I didn’t wipe it away.
It was a goodbye to the girl I was, to the life I had planned, to the safe and steady love I had just turned down.
The grief was a sharp, clean pain. But underneath it, something else was stirring.
A current of purpose, sharp and electrifying, surged through me. The dread was gone, replaced by a terrifying, exhilarating certainty.
My choice was made.
I had to find Rhys.