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Aiden crushed his cigarette under his heel, a grim determination settling
over him.“I booked us the first flight out to Seattle,” he said, his voice rough with
urgency.“We’re going after her. Two heads are better than one.”
Ethan didn’t hesitate, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.“Let’s go.”
The drive to the airport was a blur of adrenaline and fear, the Los Angeles
cityscape rushing past in a kaleidoscope of blurred lights and forgotten
landmarks. Ethan pushed his Porsche to its limits, the roar of the engine a
guttural echo of the storm raging within him.
They arrived at the airport breathless, their minds a chaotic jumble of what-
ifs and frantic prayers. They had no luggage, no plan, just a desperate need to
reach Violet, to explain, to apologize, to beg for a second chance. They were
terrified that if they were even a minute late, they’d lose her forever.
As the plane lifted off into the pre–dawn sky, leaving behind the city that
had held so much promise, so much heartbreak, a heavy silence descended upon
them.
Meanwhile, in Seattle City, I tossed and turned in
my hotel bed, my mind
replaying the events of the past few weeks, the hurt, the anger, the bittersweet
pang of letting go.
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The day we would go to the city hall.
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A wave of nerves washed over me as I got out of bed and walked over to the
window, the city sprawling beneath me like a concrete jungle, a stark contrast to
the palm trees and sunshine of Los Angeles. It was a new beginning.
The thought should have filled me with excitement. Instead, a strange sense
of melancholy settled over me, a persistent ache in my chest that had nothing to
do with heartbreak and everything to do with the life, the love, I’d left behind.
And then there was him.
My fiancé.
Charles Evans. The name had been a constant presence in my life,
whispered in hushed tones by my parents, a legendary figure whose accomplishments were both admired and envied by the entire Foster clan. I barely remembered him, just a fleeting impression of a serious, studious boy with kind eyes and a surprisingly mischievous grin, a distant cousin who’d
visited from Seattle when we were children.
To be honest, it didn’t matter who I was marrying. It was the act itself, the finality of it, the severing of ties, the closing of a chapter in my life that had been written in sunshine and laughter and had ended in a storm of betrayal and tears.
I stared at my
reflection in the mirror, my face pale, my eyes shadowed with
fatigue. I looked…older. Weary. But beneath the exhaustion, a glimmer of steely
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resolve shone through.
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remnants of a love that had long since turned to ash.
Charles was waiting for me in the lobby, his dark hair neatly combed, his suit impeccable, his gaze steady and reassuring. He looked… different. Older, of course, but also… kinder. The coldness I remembered from my childhood was
Here,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.“Have a
candy. It helps with the nerves.”
I stared at the colorful candies in my palm, a kaleidoscope of sugar and
artificial flavors, and something inside me, something tight and constricted,
Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. We drove to the City Hall, Charles’s hand warm on mine, his presence a steadying anchor in the storm of my emotions. He led me through the paperwork, the photos, the vows, his calm
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demeanor a stark contrast to the chaotic symphony of doubt and regret playing
“Look at the camera, Violet,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear,
his hand gently nudging my chin up. His fingers lingered on my skin, a spark of
The official stamp thudded onto the marriage certificates, the red ink a stark
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