No—I wasn’t going to crumble. I still have Soren. He said he liked me. He promised that he wanted to spend forever with me.
Soren would stand by me. He had to. He wasn’t the kind of man to fall for Aunt Hannah’s manipulation. I ran out of the house, my heart pounding as I tried to call him. But the line was busy. I tried again. And again. Nothing but that damn busy tone.
Two hours later, my phone finally rang.
“Soren Armitage,” the screen read.
I snatched it up, hopeful. “Hello?”
“Fran, I have something to tell you,” he said, voice flat. “I don’t think we’re a good match. Let’s break up.”
Just like that. A single sentence hit me like a gut punch. It echoed in my ears like thunder.
Yesterday, when we parted, he held me so tight, whispered that he couldn’t wait to marry me.
And now this?
“Why?” I choked out, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood.
There was a long pause.
Then—before Soren could say anything—I heard another voice.
“Do you really need someone to spell it out for you?”