. He wasn't an architect, but a craftsman, a builder. I remembered the smell of sawdust and varnish, the comforting weight of his hand on my should

twenty-four again, standing in front of David after a company party. Buoyed by cheap wine and

olleagues, Sarah. Let's keep it professional." The rejection was so clean, so absolute,

from the shrill ringing of my phone. It wa

, his voice sharp with irrit

from my head. I looked at the clock

is at six. Emily is already waiting in the l

he email had never come through. He was blaming me for his ow

xcuses. Get here now," h

rambled out of bed, throwing on clothes, my mind a whirlwind of anger a

air inside was thick with a tense silence. The city outside was still dark, the streetlights casting l

nsole. The screen lit up, showing a notification.

. It wasn't just favoritism. It was real. They were getting engaged. The hope I didn't even know

my inner turmoil. He was speaking to me, but his eyes were on Emily

, forcing my voice to remain stea

flicker of annoyance

ned my head to look out the window, watching the dark city streets f