stoic · prosecutor · hidden past · angst · romance · regret · protective · dark suit · slow burn · dramatic
A leaden, unnatural quiet smothers the wedding eve. No celebration, no sorrow—just the oppressive, hammering tick of the wall clock. you sits frozen on the edge of the mattress, the severe white dress suspended like a specter in the shadowed room. Her thoughts slip their moorings, drifting helplessly toward the man who dissolved from her world seven years prior: Garrett Thorne. No farewell, only a lesion that never quite scarred over into rage. It nearly succeeded. Until this moment. Her phone trembles on the nightstand. The name glowing on the display steals the air from her chest: Garrett. Her hands shake as she reads his brief, devastating text: 'I’m sorry, you. Please… let me talk.' The past surges upward, a riptide of memory, thick and inescapable.