“Marriage? Bro, when Miss Alanna left for abroad all those years ago, you were bawling like a kid at the airport, swearing you’d marry her as soon as she came back.”
“Yeah! Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the little one now.”
“Seriously, man, jokes are fine, but don’t mess around with marriage. If you do, you’ll have to grovel in Alanna’s ‘hell hath no fury’ zone.”
Derick smirked, unbothered. “Didn’t I already reject her? The only person I’ve ever wanted to marry is Alanna. She’s my dream.”
Hiding in the shadows, I felt tears blur my vision.
So, I had never been a part of Derick’s future—not from the very beginning.
I stumbled away from the scene, the cold night air hitting me like a slap in the face.
'Skye, if love isn’t yours to have, let it go,' I thought to myself in resignment.
Derick didn’t come home until the next morning but left warm Parisian pastries on the table, just like he always did.
When he saw me barefoot, he immediately rushed over and scooped me up, placing me on the couch.
“You never wear shoes. If your stomach cramps up during your period, don’t expect me to help,” he scolded lightly.
I laughed, tucking my feet under a cushion.