When I stepped outside, the New York sky had opened up. Snow was falling fast, thick flakes sticking to my hair and lashes. I gritted my teeth, climbed into the car, and drive.
My driving had never been strong, and with the streets slick and the snow coming down harder every block, I almost crashed more than once.
I finally bought the cherry cake after slipping on the icy sidewalks more times than I could count. My fingers were numb from the cold, and I could barely feel the box in my hands. When I handed it over, Madonna took one bite, scrunched her face, and spat it into a napkin.
“It’s cold. It tastes so bad!” she whined.
Wilmer didn’t say a word. He just brushed the whole box into the trash then bent down to scoop her up in his arms. “Come on, I’ll take you to the restaurant to eat.”
I stood there quietly, holding myself together, when he glanced back at me, impatience written all over his face. “Why are you just standing there? Get in the car.”
I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. I slid into the back seat, pressed my head against the cold glass, and tried to shut everything out.
The whole ride, Madonna giggled and leaned against him, whispering things in his ear, and he let her. My head was heavy, the noise of their laughter dull in my ears. I thought if I closed my eyes long enough, maybe I could pretend none of this was real.
Then suddenly, headlights blinded us. A car from the opposite lane spun out on the ice and came skidding straight toward us.
Wilmer didn’t hesitate. He turned the wheel, swerving hard, and the world seemed to tilt sideways. The moment before impact, he threw himself over Madonna, holding her close beneath him.
The crash rang in my ears like thunder. My body slammed against the seat, pain shooting through me. I saw blood dripping down his forehead, but all I could really see was him. Him holding her. Him protecting her.
My lips trembled, and the world went dark.
.....
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A stranger told me they had found me unconscious and brought me here. I stayed there for a week. Not once did Wilmer show up.
But every day, I saw Madonna’s posts. Photos of him at her bedside, holding her hand, feeding her soup. Her words cut sharper than the pain in my body.
“I didn’t expect that between life and death, he would choose me.”
“He wanted to see you, but I said I had a headache, so he stayed.”
“Lucille, I will make sure I’m the only one in his heart.”
I blocked her. I blocked him too.
Before, I thought maybe we could part peacefully, still carry some piece of the love we once had. But after this, I knew. I never wanted to see him again. Not even once in this lifetime.
The day after I was discharged, it was his mother’s birthday. I wanted to stay away, to cut every tie with the Prestons, but his mother kept calling. She begged me to come, even said if I didn’t, she wouldn’t celebrate at all.
She has always been good to me. After my parents died, she treated me like her own daughter. I couldn’t ignore her, not when she was the only warmth I had left in that house. And besides, if I was going to end this engagement, I had to say it in front of her and his father. They deserved to hear it from me.
So I agreed.
His mother loved big, lively occasions. By the time I arrived, her birthday party was already grand and noisy, lights glittering, laughter spilling through the house like nothing had ever broken in it.
The second I stepped into the Preston manor, the sight hit me like a slap. Madonna was holding Wilmer’s arm, steadying him as if he could not walk on his own. His voice was sharp, cutting through the hum of the party.
Then Madonna strode her way to me.
“Look at yourself. You nearly got yourself killed just to protect me.”
My stomach tightened. Before I could even move away, Madonna turned her gaze on me, her lips twisting into a smile I had seen too many times.
“Wilmer’s mum is so on your side, you must feel very proud,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery.
I frowned and tried to pull my arm free, but she clung tighter, her nails biting into my skin.
“She is only on your side because of your mother. If we’re being honest, your parents were short-lived, weren’t they? They’re gone. How long do you think that friendship can last? Once I secure Wilmer, do you really think she would go against her own son just for you?”
Something in me snapped. My parents were the one place no one was allowed to touch. Before I even thought about it, my hand came down hard across her face. The sound cracked through the air.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she staggered back. She covered her cheek and ran straight into Wilmer’s arms, sobbing.
“I only told her not to stay angry at you,” she wailed, “but she said I should not care at all. That you are nothing in her eyes.”
Wilmer’s face darkened instantly. He looked at me like I was a stranger.
“LUCILLE. APOLOGIZE.”
I let out a bitter laugh. The man who used to protect me at all costs now stood shielded around someone else. I stared at them both, then turned to leave. I wanted no part in their twisted little play.
But Wilmer’s hand clamped onto my wrist so tightly it felt like my bones might break. His grip hurt, but what hurt more was his silence, the way he stood there believing her.
I raised my eyes to him and forced each word out. “I hit her because she called my parents short-lived. And as for you, she is right. Someone who sides with her without even asking the truth is nothing to me.”
I pried his fingers off one by one, refusing to let him cage me in, and walked away.
