Later that day, Archie posted on his Moments.
They stood in front of the car, arms around each other. Her hand was resting on his shoulder. Fingers bare. No ring.
Caption:
[After everything, you were always the one.]
Margaux liked the post and then commented:
[And I will always be your way home.]
But they weren't done.
Archie posted ten more updates before the day was over.
They visited the Branson family's ancestral home. Margaux sat at the head of the table like she belonged there. Like she'd always been the Branson family's daughter-in-law.
Archie sat beside her, doting and affectionate.
They toasted the elders.
She followed him to the family shrine, knelt, and bowed her head to the floor.
Later, they went boating on Westlake.
The sun lit up her face, soft and golden. And her smile—God, that smile was something else.
She never smiled like that with me.
Whenever we went out, her eyes were glued to her laptop. Her face was always blank, distant.
I used to tell her stories—silly things I saw on the street, hoping to make her laugh, but Margaux never looked up or showed any interest.
She would only frown at me and call me childish.