“I know, Jess. But maybe I’m allowed to hope. I feel something for him. I can’t explain it, but it’s there, you know? I just want to see where it goes. If I see any of that ugly behavior rear its head… I’ll walk away. I promise.”
A year and a half later, he proposed—quietly, in a parked car, rain tapping against the windshield, his fingers intertwined with mine.
“I know I don’t deserve you, Tara. But I want to earn whatever parts of you you’re willing to give.”
I said yes—not because I forgot, but because I believed people could change.
And now, here we were.
I turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom, my dress still half-unzipped, cool air brushing my back. Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled up, collar undone.
He looked like he was struggling to breathe.
“Ryan? Are you okay, honey?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he finally looked up, his expression held something unfamiliar—not nerves or tenderness, but a strange relief, like he’d been waiting for the moment after the wedding.
“I need to tell you something, Tara.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Do you remember the rumor? The one in senior year that made you stop eating in the cafeteria?”
My body went rigid.
“Of course. You think I could ever forget something like that?”
“Tara, I saw what happened. The day it started. I saw him corner you, behind the gym, near the track field. I saw the way you looked at your… boyfriend when you walked away.”
