Heather
×××

The last few weeks have passed in a blur of wedding preparations-tastings, fittings, meetings with the florist, and endless conversations about centerpieces and seating charts.

My schedule has been so packed that I hardly have time to breathe, which, honestly, is exactly what I need.

I've thrown myself into the wedding with everything I have. Every minute spent organizing or checking off tasks is another minute I don't spend thinking about Robin.

And it's working. Or at least, I keep telling myself that.

This morning, I'm at the wedding venue with Javis, walking the perimeter of the outdoor garden where we'll be married in just three weeks.

The grass is freshly trimmed, the flower beds bursting with color. It's beautiful-exactly what Javis envisioned. He is talking with the event planner about setting up a trellis covered in roses, but my mind is only half here.

I watch him as he gestures animatedly, his face lit up with excitement. He's thrown himself into this too, and I guess we've both learned how to make the best of this arrangement.

We've grown close in a way that feels... almost comfortable.

I don't know if I'll ever love Javis the way people are supposed to love their partners, but for the first time, it doesn't feel like a prison sentence. He's kind, patient, and so damn hopeful. And I think I'm finally starting to learn how to like him like I should.

"And here, I was thinking maybe string lights," Javis says, turning to me. "You know, to give it that romantic, fairy-tale kind of vibe."

"String lights sound nice," I agree.

He smiles at me, and it doesn't feel forced.

Later, we're back at his parents' house sitting with our Mom's. They've taken over most of the planning at this point, buzzing around the living room with binders and color swatches like they're strategizing for a military campaign.

I sit next to Javis on the couch, flipping through a thick booklet of potential cake designs.

"What about this one?" I point to a three-tiered cake decorated with intricate sugar flowers.

He leans over to look. "I like it. Not too flashy, but still elegant."

Our moms launch into a debate about frosting colors, but I tune them out. It's funny-if someone had told me a year ago that I'd be sitting here, planning a wedding like this, I would've laughed. And yet here I am.

Javis nudges me gently with his elbow. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," I say. "Just a little tired."

He nods. "I get it. It's been nonstop lately."

It's a simple conversation, but there's an ease to it now that wasn't there before. I almost feel like we're teammates, working toward the same goal instead of being stuck in some awkward, obligatory partnership. Even when to him, this is real.

But even with this newfound ease, there's a hollow space inside me that won't go away. I know why it's there, and I know there's nothing I can do about it.

Robin.

I haven't seen her since that night. Haven't spoken to her. Haven't even allowed myself to think about her for longer than a few fleeting seconds.

Because if I do-if I allow myself even a moment to remember the way she looked at me, broken and desperate-I know I'll lose whatever fragile control I have left.

And I can't afford that.

It's better this way. Better for everyone.

I repeat those words to myself like a mantra.

Better this way.

Better for Javis. Better for our families. Better for me.

But most of all, better for Robin. She deserves more than this mess.

Still, no matter how many times I say it, the guilt gnaws at me.

Twice. I've hurt her twice now. First by getting engaged to Javis, and then by leading her on and ending things so suddenly.

I can't see how much she's breaking. I can't see the damage I've done, or I won't be able to go through with this wedding.

×××

We head back to the venue that afternoon for a meeting with the photographer. The sun is high in the sky, casting golden light over the garden. The photographer, a bubbly woman named Elena, is already snapping test shots of the space when we arrive.

"I was thinking we could do some shots under the big oak tree," she suggests, waving us over.

Javis agrees enthusiastically, and I follow them to the tree, where we're asked to pose for some mock photos.

I smile for the camera, my hand resting lightly on Javis's arm. His touch is warm, solid, but it doesn't feel right, not in the way I want it to.

Javis shifts slightly, his fingers brushing against my skin. I catch a glimpse of him looking at me, as if he's trying to gauge what's going on in my head. But the moment passes quickly as Elena lowers her camera, her eyes scanning the screen.

She flashes us a bright smile as she zooms in on the picture. "This is perfect," she says, her voice full of approval. "You two look perfect."

The words are meant to reassure me, to remind me that everything is fine, that we look good together, that this is what people want to see.

And for a brief moment, I let myself believe it. I glance at the photo on the screen, it's beautiful.

Javis catches my eye, his lips curving into a soft smile. He leans in just slightly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

"See?" he says, his tone gentle but encouraging. "We've got this. I told you it would get easier. Don't be so nervous. It'll pass soon."

I want to believe him. I really do. But I can't shake the feeling that something's missing, something that no amount of perfect photos or rehearsed smiles can fill.

The words are hollow, even though I know he's trying to comfort me. He's trying to hold everything together, like he always does. And I'm grateful for him, really. But I wonder if he can see the cracks that I'm so carefully hiding from everyone, including him.

I nod slowly, forcing another smile, though it feels even more strained this time.

"Yeah, you're right," I say, even as doubt lingers in my chest.

I smile again, a little more tightly this time, and let the moment pass.

And when Elena calls out her thanks and walks away with her gear, I find myself standing alone with Javis, trying not to feel the emptiness creeping in.

Javis turns to me, his expression soft. "Do you want to walk around for a bit?"

I nod with a smile.

Back at home that evening, I collapse onto my bed, exhausted. The day was productive. Everything is on schedule. We're nearly there.

So why does it feel like I'm about to fall apart?

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I glance at the screen. A text from Javis.

Thanks for today. You were amazing.

I text back a quick Thanks before tossing the phone aside. He's trying. I'm trying. And it's enough-at least, it should be.

But the ache in my chest says otherwise.

I lie there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling. Every time I close my eyes, I see Robin. I see the hurt in her eyes that night, the way her voice cracked when she asked me why.

I know I did what I had to. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

And no matter how much distance I put between us, the guilt stays with me. It's a constant, nagging presence, a reminder of the damage I've caused.

Twice.

Better this way.

The words feel emptier every time I say them. But they're all I have left.