At the head of the table sat Harry with his legs casually crossed, wearing a tailored shirt. His sleeves were also rolled up just enough to flash his luxury watch with a smug little smirk to go with it.
“Well, well, look at this. Our golden boy and elegant queen, reunited at last!”
“If Harry hadn’t gone overseas back then, their kid would be in middle school by now!”
As soon as that punch was dropped, the room erupted in laughter.
Tracy blushed and gave the girl a playful slap on the arm. But she didn’t deny it.
Seeing that, my fingers tightened around my glass.
Harry looked past Tracy and gave me the briefest glance.
But it was just that, because for the next two hours, I sat there like a ghost, invisible.
They, on the other hand, traded stories, laughing over memories I was never part of.
And every time the conversation turned to Harry and Tracy’s “childhood sweetheart saga,” someone would glance at me, then lean in and whisper.
Unfortunately for them, I could still hear them.
“Remember how in kindergarten, Tracy always had to be Harry’s bride when we played house? If she didn’t get to, she’d cry until she did.”