Once Ambrose left, Hazel walked to the bathroom, her footsteps steady but deliberate. Slowly, methodically, she washed her face, rinsing away every trace of Ambrose’s fleeting touch as if cleansing herself of his presence.
Belated love. Hollow compensation after betrayal. Hazel didn’t want any of it.
The days crept by, and soon, it was the eve of the wedding. The calendar had thinned to just two fragile pages, one hanging by a thread. Today’s wish read, “Have a family reunion dinner together.”
For over twenty years, Hazel had carried this hope silently in her heart. Yet, deep down, she knew it was a futile dream. Her mother would never forgive her father, just as she could never forgive Ambrose.
Refusing to linger on these thoughts, Hazel brushed on light makeup, slipped into her favorite white dress, and stepped out. She watched a movie alone, ordered a couple’s meal for one, and rode the Ferris wheel in solitary silence.