The atmosphere at the high school reunion wedding was electric, the kind of forced joy that usually comes with an open bar and old rivalries. It was all fine until the MC grabbed the mic, grinning as he announced that whoever caught the bouquet would be the next one to find their "happily ever after." In a moment of sheer, desperate impulse, I lunged forward. I didn't just catch it; I fought for it, elbowing my way to the front until the silk ribbons were crushed in my palm. Breathless and beaming, I turned toward him, shouting his name over the music. "Daniel! Look! I got the bouquet!" But the reaction I’d rehearsed in my head—the smile, the kiss, the whispered promise—never came. Daniel didn’t even look at the flowers. He just turned his back on me and walked straight toward Sophie, his first love, who was standing a few yards away. The whispers started instantly, sharp as glass shards. "Who is she? She practically tackled that girl for the flowers. Is she that desperate to get a ring?" "That’s Daniel Thorne’s girlfriend. Apparently, she’s been hounding him to propose since they graduated med school. He’s clearly dragging his feet. Doesn't she get the hint?" "The woman she pushed is Sophie—his high school sweetheart. She’s a single mom now. Imagine getting shoved by your ex’s desperate girlfriend. Talk about bad luck." I looked down at the bouquet. Suddenly, the flowers felt like glowing coals. Throwing them felt like admitting defeat; holding them felt like a slow burn. Daniel was already on the lounge sofa, lifting Sophie’s foot onto his lap with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. … "Does it still hurt?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. "I’m okay, really," Sophie replied, her voice that specific brand of soft that makes every man in the room want to be a hero. The snickers from our former classmates grew louder. "Man, Daniel really hasn't changed. He’s still got it bad for the one that got away. Look at him. It’s like the rest of the room doesn't exist." "His girlfriend is a piece of work, though. Fighting for a bouquet like it’s a Black Friday sale. She’s lost all her dignity just to get a wedding. If he doesn't marry her soon, she’ll probably stage a kidnapping." The laughter cut through me like a serrated blade. I tightened my grip on the stems and walked over to him. "I didn't push her, Daniel." He didn't look up. He was focused on Sophie’s swollen ankle, cleaning a scratch with a precision he usually reserved for the ER. He moved with a practiced ease, his touch light but firm. Finally, he raised his head. His eyes were cold. "Go find out if there’s a shop nearby that’s still open. She can't walk in those heels. Size six. Get her some flats." I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. My knuckles were white against the bouquet. "Do you even know what size I wear, Daniel?" He hesitated, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "It doesn't matter," I said, a hollow laugh escaping my throat. "I could tell you a hundred times, and you’d still forget." The judgmental stares followed me like spotlights. Sophie made a half-hearted attempt to stand, her face a mask of concern. "I’m so sorry, Hannah. It’s not what you think. Daniel, please, your girlfriend is upset. I can handle this myself." But he gently pressed her back down into the cushions, murmuring instructions on how to keep the foot elevated. I couldn't breathe. I turned and bolted out of the hotel lobby, the humid night air hitting me like a physical blow. I waited. I stood by the curb, half-expecting—praying—that he would chase after me. I waited until the Uber pulled up. He never came. My phone buzzed as I sat in the backseat. A text: I’m taking her to the hospital just to be safe. Stop making a scene, Hannah. It’s embarrassing for everyone. A tear fell, splashing onto the screen, blurring his words. Seven years. We had been together for seven years, not seven days. How had my desire for a life with him become a punchline? Every woman I knew—girls younger than me, couples who had started dating years after us—was already married. I had watched them all walk down the aisle, one by one. And every single time, they asked the same question: "Hannah, when is it your turn?" I always said, "Soon. We’re just waiting for the right time." I told myself he was busy with his residency, that he needed to establish his career. But I had waited seven years. When my grandfather was dying, his last wish was to see me in a white dress. He never did. That regret would haunt me forever. Tonight was the wake-up call I had been ignoring. This man didn't love me. He certainly didn't want to marry me. He didn't get home until dusk the next day. I had been sitting on the sofa for five hours, staring at nothing. "When are your parents coming into town?" I asked, my voice thin and exhausted. "I need to make the dinner reservations." I gripped the hem of my shirt. Every time I brought up wedding planning at dinner, he found a way to deflect. My parents were starting to look like fools, constantly being stood up or brushed off. He paused, not meeting my eyes, and headed for the bathroom. "Don't bother with a reservation." "Just get some rest," he added over his shoulder. "You have work tomorrow." "I’m quitting," I said. He stopped in his tracks. "My parents found me a job back home. They also found someone they want me to meet. A setup. I saw his picture—six-foot-two, handsome, a doctor just like you. If things go well, I could be married by next year." He spun around, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp anger. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight. "Are you really that desperate? You’re going to blackmail me into a proposal by threatening to marry some stranger?" "Yes! I’m thirty, Daniel! Not twenty-three, not twenty. Thirty." My voice broke. "Do you have any idea what that means? If I waste another two years on you, the doctors will be writing 'geriatric pregnancy' on my charts before we even pick a venue. I gave you the best seven years of my life, and no matter how hard I try, I can't compete with the ghost of Sophie." His brow furrowed. He reached out as if to touch my face, then pulled back, his hand hovering in mid-air. "Sophie and I... it’s not what you think." A loud knock interrupted us. A man’s head poked through the doorway—one of Daniel’s med school friends. "Hey, man! You ready? We’re heading to the after-party. You coming?" "Get out," Daniel snapped. "I’m not going." The friend hesitated. "Sophie’s there... some of the guys from the old crowd are cornering her, trying to get her to do shots. She looks pretty overwhelmed. You sure?" The change in Daniel’s face was instantaneous. The anger he’d felt toward me vanished, replaced by a sharp, focused anxiety. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to give him permission—or perhaps just waiting for me to get out of his way. "Go," I said, the word tasting like ash. "Go before your precious Sophie gets her feelings hurt." He didn't hesitate. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "Go to sleep," he said. "Stop overthinking everything." The roar of his engine faded into the night. He hadn't loved me in a long time. I was just the only person in the world who refused to admit it. I tossed and turned all night, finally succumbing to a chemical sleep after two Ambien. When I woke up the next morning, the table was set with breakfast. Daniel was in the kitchen, wearing an apron. He walked over and slid a small, navy-blue folder across the table toward me. His birth certificate and social security card. "Let’s do it," he said. "Let’s get married." For seven years, I had prayed for those words. Now, my heart just felt heavy. "I know your favorite food is honey-glazed salmon," he said softly. "I know you wear a size six shoe. I know you prefer leggings to jeans because you hate being restricted. I know you don't wear perfume because you’re allergic to most florals." So, he did know. He had always known. Maybe I had pushed him too hard yesterday. Maybe this was his way of finally choosing me. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then quickly stripped off the apron. "There’s an emergency surgery at the hospital. Wait for me. As soon as I’m out of the OR, we’ll head to City Hall and get the license." I had waited so long for this. Seven years of history was too much to just throw away. I spent the afternoon doing my makeup, picking out my most elegant white dress, and I arrived at City Hall early. I waited until the clerks started clearing their desks. I watched the sun dip below the skyline. "Ma'am?" the security guard asked. "We’re closing in five minutes. Are you waiting for someone?" Numbly, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. It rang and rang. Finally, someone picked up. But it wasn't Daniel. It was a woman. "Dr. Thorne is busy right now. Is there a message I can take?" Daniel hated anyone touching his phone. And I knew that voice. It was Sophie. "I..." The words died in my throat. I hung up. Walking out of City Hall, the evening chill seeped into my bones. But it was nothing compared to the sharp, sudden cramp in my abdomen. My vision went black, and the pavement rushed up to meet me. When I woke up, I was in a sterile hospital room. A young nurse beamed at me. "Good news, honey. You’re pregnant." Later, as I walked past the neonatal unit, I stared through the glass at the tiny, fragile lives in the incubators. So small. So innocent. I remembered asking Daniel once if he wanted kids. He had pulled me close, his chin resting on the top of my head, and whispered, "Let’s have two. One that looks like you, and one that has my stubborn streak." But now, carrying his child, I didn't feel joy. I felt a cold, paralyzing fear. At the end of the hallway, I saw a familiar white coat. Daniel. He was holding the hand of a small boy, walking toward me. Sophie was at his side. Looking at them, they didn't look like a doctor and a patient’s family. They looked like a family. If Sophie hadn't left the country all those years ago, she would have been the one in the white dress today. I was just the placeholder. "Daddy Daniel, when I’m all better, can we go to Disney World?" the little boy chirped. My heart stopped. Daddy? Daniel finally saw me. He let go of the boy’s hand, his brow knitting together. "What are you doing here?" I looked him dead in the eye. "Since when do you have a son?" A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but Sophie stepped forward before he could speak. "Hannah, please don't be mad at Daniel. I’m divorced, and my son is just very attached to him. He calls him that because... well, because Daniel has been so wonderful to us." She looked back at the boy and lowered her voice. "He has a congenital blood disorder. Daniel didn't tell you because he didn't want you to worry. Today was his surgery. Daniel hasn't left his side." I looked at Daniel. He stood there, silent. He could have explained. He could have sent a text. A single sentence would have saved me hours of agonizing at City Hall. But he chose to let her be the one to tell me. I looked at the thin, pale boy hiding behind Sophie’s skirt, his arm wrapped in gauze. My anger flickered, replaced by a hollow ache. To make it up to me, Daniel invited my parents to a private dinner at a high-end steakhouse. The table was filled with my favorite dishes, the atmosphere forced but polite. But every time the conversation drifted toward the wedding, his phone would vibrate. Finally, he answered. It was Sophie, her voice a frantic, sobbing mess that bled through the receiver. "Daniel, I’m scared! His father is here—he’s trying to take him! He hit me, Daniel! Please, I don't know what to do!" Daniel surged to his feet. I grabbed his hand, using every ounce of my strength to hold him back. "My parents are here, Daniel. You promised. You said you wouldn't walk out today." He looked down at me, then gently but firmly pried my fingers off his arm. "I have to go. This is an emergency, Hannah. I’ll come back as soon as it’s settled and apologize to your parents. I promise." The door swung shut behind him. My mother sat in stunned silence. My father’s wine glass remained suspended in mid-air. I looked at my empty palm and realized how pathetic I looked. Worried about his safety—or perhaps just needing to see the truth for myself—I followed him. His car was parked in front of a luxury townhouse I recognized. It was the house we had toured six months ago. We were supposed to move in after we got married. Now, the windows glowed with a warm, inviting light. Sophie and her son were already living in my dream. In the driveway, Daniel was in a heated scuffle with a man. Daniel’s knuckles were bloody—the hands of a surgeon, now bruised for a woman who wasn't his. He pinned the man against a car. The man spat on the ground and laughed. "Fine! You want me to leave them alone? Give me twenty grand a month. Or I’ll keep coming back. You can't protect them forever." Daniel kicked the man’s legs out from under him, pulled a gold card from his wallet, and threw it at his face. "Take the card and get the hell out of here!" Sophie threw herself into Daniel’s arms, sobbing into his chest. I stood in the shadows, watching them. I felt like an intruder in someone else’s life. My phone rang. It was my mother. "Hannah, that man is not reliable. Seven years, and he treats us like an afterthought. You’re not a girl anymore. Don't waste another second." "That setup your father mentioned? I called him. He’s successful, kind, and he wants to meet you. Hannah..." "Mom," I interrupted, my voice sounding like a stranger’s. "Set it up. I’ll meet him." The next day, I went to Daniel’s office to return the navy folder. The room was empty. As I turned to leave, Sophie’s son appeared in the doorway. "Are you the Mean Lady Mom talked about?" The Mean Lady? My heart tightened. He raised a toy water gun and squirted it directly into my face, laughing. "Bang! You’re dead, Mean Lady! You can't have my Daddy! My Mom and Daddy belong together!" Water dripped down my forehead, soaking my hair. I stepped forward to take the toy away from him, but the second I moved, he let out a piercing shriek. Daniel and Sophie burst into the room. "What happened?" Sophie cried, rushing to her son. The boy pointed a trembling finger at me. "She said I don't have a daddy! She tried to hit me!" Sophie’s eyes welled with tears. "Hannah, if you think Daniel and I are too close, I’ll stay away. But please, don't take your bitterness out on my son. He’s sick. Do you have any idea what this stress does to him?" I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Daniel grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning with a dark, primal rage. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed. "I told you I’d marry you! What more do you want? Do you need to destroy a child just to feel secure?" He gripped me so hard that the bandage on his own hand began to seep blood. I couldn't find the words. Sophie screamed. "Daniel! He’s turning pale! Help him!" Daniel shoved me aside to get to the boy. The force was so sudden that I stumbled back, the small of my back slamming into the sharp corner of his mahogany desk. A white-hot pain exploded in my spine. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as my vision blurred. "Daniel... it hurts..." He didn't turn around. I looked down. A dark, crimson stain was blooming across the skirt of my pale dress. I collapsed onto the floor, the world fading to gray. When I woke up, the doctor’s face told me everything before he even spoke. "I’m so sorry, Hannah. We couldn't save the baby. You’re young, though. You’ll be able to try again." I touched my flat stomach. I felt nothing. No tears, no anger. Just a profound sense of relief. The last thread tying me to Daniel had finally snapped. My parents helped me pack. My mother’s eyes were full of pity as we loaded the last of my boxes into the car. "Are you sure about this, Hannah? Once we leave, we aren't coming back." I took one last look at the apartment. Seven years of memories, seven years of building a life for a man who didn't exist. I checked my phone one last time. A notification from Sophie’s Instagram popped up. A photo of Daniel’s hand—wearing the watch I had bought him for his birthday—holding hers. The caption: No matter what happens, you’re always by my side. I forced a smile. "I'm sure, Mom. I’m staying with you and Dad from now on." As the car pulled away, I took out my SIM card and tossed it out the window. That night, back at the hospital, Daniel developed a nagging cough. He reached for the drawer where I always kept his medicine, but it was empty. He realized he’d been too harsh with me. He realized he’d stood up my parents. Again. He sighed and reached for his phone to call me. There was a knock on the door. A young nurse walked in, holding a chart. "Dr. Thorne? Your girlfriend, Hannah... she was admitted earlier. She had a miscarriage. The doctor said she needs to be very careful with her recovery." Daniel froze. The world around him seemed to stop breathing.
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