Chapter 4 No.4

Clare started building a wall.

Brick by digital brick.

She went through her social media and began unfollowing Chase's friends, one by one. She muted his family members. She was shrinking her world, cutting off the streams of information that felt like tiny paper cuts on her soul.

The next day, a text message from Karis appeared on her phone.

It was a picture. A selfie of her and Chase, smiling brightly. In the background was a travel agency, a poster for St. Barts clearly visible behind them.

The caption read: He's so sweet, trying to cheer me up! Can't wait for some sun! ;) xx

Clare stared at the screen until the image blurred.

She didn't feel anger. She didn't feel jealousy.

She felt nothing. A vast, hollow emptiness.

She typed back a single word.

Nice.

She hit send and put the phone down.

Later that week, she ran into the same kind-eyed woman from the rehearsal dinner while picking up coffee.

"Clare, dear!" the woman said, her face full of concern. "I was so worried about you. You and Chase are such a perfect couple. He's been so good to you."

The words hung in the air. A perfect couple.

Clare gave a small, tight smile. "We were," she said, the past tense deliberate and sharp.

The woman looked confused. "Were?"

"People change," Clare said simply, picking up her coffee. She walked away, leaving the woman standing there with her mouth slightly open.

Inside, a voice screamed. He was good to me? He took me from one cage and put me in another, more beautiful one. He owned me. That's not goodness. That's possession.

That night, she had a dream.

She was a little girl again, back in her family's farmhouse. Her father was yelling, his face red. Her mother was crying silently into a dishtowel. They were angry she wouldn't marry the neighbor's son. Angry she wanted more.

Then Chase appeared at the door, bathed in golden light. He held out his hand. He promised her New York. He promised her everything.

She took his hand, and the farmhouse dissolved.

She woke up with a gasp, her chest tight.

The dream wasn't a comfort. It was a horror story.

The greatest cruelty wasn't the neglect or the betrayal. It was that he had given her hope first. He had made her believe in the fairy tale before setting it on fire.

The next day, she went through her closet. She found the dress she was supposed to wear on their honeymoon. A beautiful, white sundress.

She held it up. It felt like a costume for a role she would never play.

She dropped it into a donation bag.

Just then, Chase walked in. He saw the dress in the bag.

He laughed. A short, humorless sound.

"Giving up on that already?" he said. "Don't worry. I'm sure your hands will be fine by the time we have our first anniversary."

He didn't see it as an act of letting go. He saw it as a temporary surrender.

He still thought she had nowhere else to go. He still thought she would always be there, waiting.

That was his biggest mistake.