romised his mom, Eleanor, I' d come help set up days ago, long before I knew her son wa

ise against my raw nerves. I moved through the motions, setting plates and filling glasses,

iping her hands on her apron. "He was supposed to be

had some things to take care of, Eleanor. I'm sure he'

rriving, but there was still no sign of Liam. His father, M

d, a line of worry creasing his for

t her cell. "I'll

it ring, and ring, and ring, until it went to v

The same result. And again. On the fourth try, after a single ring, the c

red, her face pale with shock and

notification from Instagram. A new post from a user I didn't follow, but whose name was popping up in the c

. She was laughing, turning the camera to the driver's seat. It was Liam. He was smiling at her, a stupid, love

call lit up

sing the red "decline" button on the screen. She giggled and added a caption in

was the casual cruelty of it. He was letting this girl, this stranger, di

om. I saw Eleanor, now sitting at the table, her fa

pened. Mark was trying to reassure her, but his own face was tight with worry. I remembered all the

on social media for the world to see. A cold, hard clarity washed over me. This wasn't just about me anymore. This was about who Liam really