Still, I kept trying. And Daniel reassured me, “He’ll come around. He’s had it rough. It just takes time.”
I believed him.
We got engaged one rainy evening in November. He proposed at our favorite restaurant, kneeling with trembling hands and eyes full of tears. I said yes, heart full of hope.
When we told Evan, he forced a smile and muttered, “Congratulations.”
For a fleeting moment, I thought we were making progress.
I was wrong.
The morning of our wedding was picture-perfect. The garden venue shimmered with early sun, white roses spilling over every archway. My dress hung like magic, the makeup artist had worked miracles, and everything looked like a dream.
Except I couldn’t stop pacing.
I was halfway through checking my bouquet for the tenth time when there was a knock at the bridal suite door.
“Come in!” I called, expecting my maid of honor.
