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“Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.”
The lie is so automatic it barely feels like one anymore.
“I have an early meeting, but I wanted to remind you that Olivia’s coming by around eleven with the invitation samples Graham’s mother chose. She thinks the ivory cardstock is more appropriate than the white.”
Of course she does. Graham’s mother has an opinion about everything, from the weight of the invitations to the number of peonies permitted in each centerpiece.
“I remember.”
“And your father may be home late. He had two surgeries added to his schedule.”
“Okay.”
“I left breakfast downstairs.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Her footsteps remain outside my door for a moment.
She’s probably standing in the hallway in one of her immaculate suits, a leather bag hanging from her shoulder and a cup of coffee in her hand. I’m certain she’s checking emails while talking to me. She’s always doing at least two things at once.
“Astra?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re proud of you.”
The words land harder than they should.
My throat closes around my answer.
“I know.”
She walks away before I have to say anything else.
I remain still until I hear her heels descending the staircase. A minute later, the front door closes. Only then do I sit on the edge of my bed.
For one dangerous second, I consider unpacking. Everything could go back before anyone notices. I could shower, meet Olivia, pretend to care about ivory cardstock, and have dinner with Graham at seven.
Tomorrow, I could attend another orientation meeting.
Next month, law school.
Next year, a wedding.
It’d be easy. That’s the most terrifying part.
Every stop of the life they chose for me could keep unfolding exactly when expected, and no one would ever realize I was disappearing. Maybe I wouldn’t realize it either. Not until there was nothing left of me to save.
“No.” The word comes out quietly, but the room feels different after I say it.
After a final look at my engagement ring, I cross to my dresser and slide it off my finger. A faint indentation circles my finger where the band rested. I hold it between my fingers for a long time, thinking about Graham’s face in the garden and the way his hand trembled slightly when he slid it onto mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He deserves someone who can look at him and see her future.
