𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

Hey baby... thinking about you🤍 stay safe pls. I miss you so much!!

I sigh after sending a text to Chris, and then shove some packages out of the way.
Boxes crowd the floor, most of them are for me from brands, others are wedding items - gifts and last minute decorations.

Entering the kitchen, my eyes land on the calendar that hangs on the wall. I scratch off the last few days and shake with excitement, seeing that the twentieth is getting closer.

A sigh is released from my mouth as I walk across the heated floors.

Duke naps while Stevie showers Piper with affection. Their pup is getting along just fine, she's a great addition to the family, that's why I'm hoping Chris will change his mind about giving her away.

Since it's nearly lunch time and I haven't gotten an ounce of work done, I whip up a grilled cheese and check my email.

"Shoot." I hiss upon reading one message.

This luxury men's brand had reached out to us to have Chris wear one of their suits for the wedding. I loved the suit on Chris and he fell in love with it, too, but as apart of the deal to get the suit for free essentially, Chris was supposed to post an ad for them on his Instagram.
The business email they sent was professional while expressing the need for the ad to be posted as soon as possible since it's passed due.  I reply explaining to them that we just returned from a trip yesterday, plus between wedding planning and Chris's job, he's busy but will post it in the next day or two.

Whew. I exhale the stress of that email and shoot Chris a voice memo asking him to post the ad with the approved caption. While Chris has no interest in being an "influencer" he does cooperate, especially because he's getting a free suit of it.
My fiancé has a lot of money but loves it so much, he will do anything to save it. Although, he has been very generous with this wedding to make me happy.

"Hm..." I tilt my head, looking at the phone screen. I realize I've sent Chris four texts by now and haven't gotten a response yet. It's not like him. I know he's not sleep, so he should've replied by now.
Oh well, I figure, maybe he's busy working.

BARK! BARK! BARK!

The dogs's noise alerts me that someone is at the door before I even hear anyone knock.

I push my weight off of the counter and go to answer the door.

"Oh, hey." I greet the wedding coordinator as she pushes her way inside.

Her dirty blonde hair is tucked into a sock bun with not a single strand out of place.

She looks around then turns on the heels of her black pumps to face me.

"Are you ready, darling, we have lots to do?" She suddenly reminds me.

I shudder at the word "darling" still and disassociate for a second.

The strict clap of Marie's porcelain hands make me return to the present.

I facepalm. "I'm sorry, we haven't looked over anything. Marie, I'm just getting back and-"

"Very well," Marie pauses for a beat. "I will check back in tomorrow?"

I nod my head, wearing a pitiful smile. "As soon as Chris gets home I will call you."

"You better, it's your wedding." She makes me chuckle on her way out.

"Thank you, Marieee." I drag my words as I watch her wave and descend the driveway.

I step over the threshold and push the door closed but the motion is stopped with an unexpected force on the other side.

"Oh-" I gasp, taking a step back.

It's Lydia. She picks her dog, Bebe, up and presents herself inside of my home.

"Hello, Annie," she says in her mature voice. "I didn't know you and Christopher were back home."

I cross my arms over my chest and take a deep breath to compose myself before speaking out of turn. The only reason I'm not kicking her out right now is because I agreed with my fiancé that I would be more kind to this lady, his client.

"Chris isn't back, yet. Can I offer you something to drink?" The annoyance is clear in my tone as I stomp towards the kitchen.

"What are you having?" She asks me, removing her dark sunglasses. The glasses — like her velour tracksuit— are red, of course. It tracks as her favorite color, a staple in her wardrobe just as the collection of grey wigs she has. Today's unit is a bob styled with bangs and bumped ends, reminiscent of a 1950s housewife.

"Bleach." I puff out, staring blankly at the unwanted visitor. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Not you," she insists, "I only came to talk business with Chris."

"Like I said," I huff, flailing my arms, "he's not here, so."

Before I can show her to the door myself, my phone rings. I stomp across the floor to pick it up off the counter and see that it's Nia calling.

My eyes follow Lydia on her way out but she's taking her time, blowing kisses at Piper.

"The cutest thing!" She accentuates with the wrinkle of her nose. "I think it likes me."

I force a laugh. "She - Piper."

"Piper!" Lydia's eyes light up with the same wonder that laces her tone. "What a divine name. You know, Bebe doesn't have much time left, I fear, the two of us could use some company. Perhaps, just another play date, this time with Piper?"

"I'll think about it." I affirm, darting my eyes to the exit.

"Oh," she bursts before stepping outside. "Do let Chris know that I asked for him; he hasn't been answering my calls or texts."

That makes two of us, I think in my head but I'd never say it our loud. Not to her. Although, it does make me wonder why he's not replying. If not to me, for whatever reason, you'd think since he's away on business, he'd pick up the phone for said business.

With Lydia finally out of my hair, I can let it down. I take a deep breath and retreat to the couch where I plan on spending at least the next three hours.

Before I can even kick my feet up on the brand new McIntosh coffee table, my phone rings. I let out a groan that echoes throughout the empty space, and hesitate to see who dares interrupt my afternoon this time.

It's Nia.

Only because she's Chris's boss, I answer the call.

"Hey." I talk first, speaking fast to set the tone so she won't keep me forever. Her conversations tend to linger and they're usually all about her.

"I knew you would pick up." She scoffs.

I sit up on the sofa and asks what she means by that.

"I haven't heard from Chris, I don't even know if he landed."

"What?" I laugh because I don't believe her. "He got on a plane right after me."

"Are you sure?" Her question makes me second guess myself.

My eyes wander as my tone falters. "Um, he was supposed to..."

"How do you not know where your husband is?"

"Well, I just assumed he would be where he told me he was. Look, it's no big deal, I'll just check his location." I remain confident as I put the call on speaker to launch the 'Find My' app.

"What?" I gasp, quite confused.

"What?" Nia mimics me, wondering the reason for my sudden silence.

I don't tell her this, but I can't see my fiancés location.
Knowing there must be some mistake, I open our text thread only to see that he's stopped sharing his location with me.

When I begin typing a text, I realize the messages aren't being delivered.

I send the message anyway and after a minute, see that there's no status under the text - the message wasn't delivered.

"He blocked me." I mumble, not realizing at first that I've said it out loud.

"He blocked you?!"!Nia sounds judgmental.

I shake my head to snap out of my head before jumping to conclusions. She heard that much already, God knows she'll spread the word like a virus.

"No," I lie without thinking. "Erm, I don't know where he is right now, but I'll have him call you, okay?"

"You better," Nia bosses, "he has a job to do."

"And he'll do it. Just," I pause for a beat, grabbing a fistful of hair to think. "give me a second to call him."

"Tell me when you get a hold of him, and make sure he knows how important this opportunity is." Nia's mature voice is heard loud and clear before she ends the call.

I'm left with a feeling of worry that settles deeply in my stomach.

Quickly, I launch Instagram and see if he's active. No. I DM him anyway and wait for a response.

The waiting is absolutely killing me. I turn to TikTok to check if he's currently online but he isn't. I shoot him a message there but it's no use.

Delivered.

I'm riddled with anxiety, struck with a hot flash and feeling of uncertainty that seems it'll stick with me forever, or at least until I get a hold of my fiancé.

I switch through each app frantically to double and triple check if he's messaged me back, yet.

After seeing the mailman drive off, I pace outside. The dogs follow to bask in the fresh air. That's exactly what I need - fresh air.

I ignore the new package on the step and walk down the lane to the mailbox.

There, a pile of mail. Out of habit, I sort through it on my walk back inside.

Bills, bills, blah, blah, blah, I mutter in my head as I flip through the envelopes.

Not a lot of the paper mail is usually for me so one envelope in particular catches my eye. It's plain and handwritten. On it, not just any handwriting, it's Chris's.

I call for the dogs to follow me quickly, and agitatedly rip the paper apart. In it, a single sheet of paper folded in half.

"Duke... Stevie!" I yell for the dogs again and this time they come running so I can shut us inside.

With my next breath, a sombre feeling becomes me.

My throat swells preemptively. I land myself in a chair, body gone frigid, I suddenly feel like I weigh a million pounds.

Once the beat of my pounding heart fades some, I begin to read.

Annie,

I never meant for things to be like this. I always intended to give you the world because you are mine.

Thoughts of you surround me as I write this. I've wasted at least four papers trying to get the right words down but I keep soaking them with my tears.

I didn't think it would end like this. Words cannot express how sorry I am that it has to, though.

This is selfish, I know.
I thought if I would tell you this face to face that you wouldn't let me go because you're too good of a person. You would try to find a solution and make things work for everyone. I need you to not be a good person this time.

I fucked up. Bad. So this has to be goodbye because I can't face you and know that I'm the reason constantly holding us back.

When I look into your eyes, I see forever. Your eyes tell me everything will be okay. Except it won't be this time, you don't deserve that.

What you deserve is a happy ending and one day, years ago, you promised me that no matter what, you'd live happily ever after. Don't break that promise, Morgan.

I got a call from a prison in New York. Sabrina is alive but barely. And she has a child. It's mine, Morgan. I'm a father, but the child is not yours.

My life, and consequently yours, will never be the same because of this.

This is why I can't come home to you. This is the most cowardly way out, I know, but it's easy and hopefully the least damaging to you.

I love you in every way, in every language, in every lifetime.

And you can hate me but know that you're my treasure - the most precious thing in my life that's why I can't raise that child. I can't love anything like I love you. You're my soulmate but I Have to let you go. I have to do my part to end this constant cycle of stress and suffering for you.

Know that I haven't been the same since you and I never will be again. This is not your fault. It's not about you. Blame me. Hate me if you must but heal and don't dim your light ever again.

You'll continue being the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'll survive off of our memories.

So this is goodbye

Don't worry about me, but I know you will. Just know that as long as your heart beats, I'll be okay.

I love you. So much. And then more than that.

Chris