on the night before

e I was five years old, ever

, all dressed in their best, their faces a blur of polite smiles and quiet whispers. My father, a man

sive oak door

n, her hair is a mess, and her eyes burn

a finger st

her voice echoing in the sudden silen

en, my heart pounding, th

cared. That dream isn' t a nightmare; i

this day was coming. For thirt

d lawns of our estate. Downstairs, the staff is already making final preparatio

ty. My

nd I will not lose the

erfect daughter of the Blakely family. But underneath, I

oft knock

? You a

e, warm. He' s the musician, the sensitive soul of

turning from the m

ll, velvet box. "Happy b

cket. "I wrote a new song for you. The f

other. This perfect, golden life. The thought of the girl in

iful, Andrew.

for my favorite girl. Today is

my smile feeling

ay. But I also