Fuming, Yzail threw the empty thermos into the sink and angrily rolled up his sleeves to make a fresh batch of soup for his precious Zolenn. While it simmered, he busied himself tidying up the house, but it didn’t take long for him to notice something wasn’t right.
“Lanaya, didn’t you buy a lot of wedding stuff? Why isn’t any of it out?” He glanced around, confused. When he reached for his usual glass of water, he realized even my favorite set of matching cups had disappeared.
When I didn’t answer, he frowned and came into the bedroom. “Lanaya, are you having a rough time with your period? You look really pale.”
Finally, the ever-observant Yzail noticed something was off. “You didn’t… you weren’t pregnant, were you?”
His voice was filled with sudden panic, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. I didn’t want to make things more complicated than they already were, so I lied and denied it. The child was gone now, and I didn’t need him mourning or offering fleeting compassion. He didn’t deserve to end things on his terms. He had lost that right.
Relieved by my denial, Yzail’s face softened. “Weren’t you short a bridesmaid? I’ve decided Zolenn can be your bridesmaid.”