Chapter 4

4

"Don't go to the wedding photo shoot tomorrow."

I looked at the calendar. Tomorrow's date had "Photo Shoot" written in large letters.

I didn't know why he wanted to cancel, but since the wedding wasn't happening anyway, I had been planning to find an excuse to call it off myself.

His request actually saved me the trouble.

I nodded calmly.

"Okay. I'll call the photographer and cancel."

Weston seemed stunned. He hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

He thought I would demand an explanation. After all, I had spent months researching photographers to find the perfect one.

I had even paid a premium to skip the waiting list just to ensure our photos were perfect.

But I was strangely at peace.

Weston's expression turned complex.

"Don't cancel it."

"Yara said she'll never get the chance to have her own wedding. She wants to take some wedding photos with me, just to feel like she's had the experience."

"She'll go in your place tomorrow. We can always do ours later."

He said it as casually as if he were choosing what to have for dinner. It was the same tone he used when he told me about the insemination.

It wasn't a discussion. It was a notification. He had already made up his mind.

I lowered my eyes to hide the mockery.

Later?

Weston didn't know that I only had thirteen days left in this city.

He didn't realize there would be no "later" for us.

I gave a quiet "Okay" and went into the bedroom to sleep.

The wedding was dead. It didn't matter who he took photos with.

Weston watched me leave, a flicker of unease crossing his face.

I was too quiet. I didn't even ask why. All the excuses he had prepared were useless.

But then his phone buzzed with a call from Yara, and he pushed his doubts aside, heading to the balcony to answer.

When I woke up the next morning, Weston was already leaving.

He spoke while putting on his shoes.

"After the shoot, Yara and I are going on a trip for a few days. She's always wanted to see the lavender fields in Provence, so I'm taking her."

"Let's keep the wedding simple. I don't have time for rehearsals or decorations. Just decide everything yourself. No need to ask me."

I swallowed a bite of toast and replied, "Okay."

Keep it simple.

This wedding would have no photos, no guests, and no officiant.

And it wouldn't have a bride.

Weston saw me eating my breakfast so calmly and felt a twinge of something strange. He added, "We can go to Europe for the honeymoon after the wedding. I know you've always wanted to."

In the past, if Weston had suggested a honeymoon, I would have been ecstatic. I would have started planning every detail immediately.

Every time I'd asked him to travel before, he'd refused, saying he hated traveling and found it exhausting.

Now, I just focused on my bread. I didn't say a word.

There would be no wedding. How could there be a honeymoon?

Weston looked at me, surprised by my silence. He wanted to say more, but he checked the clock and hurried out the door, throwing back a quick, "We'll talk when I get back."

I picked up the red marker and drew a giant X over the words "Photo Shoot."

Twelve days left.

After breakfast, I started packing. I began clearing out everything in the house that wasn't strictly necessary.

An album with less than five photos. A dusty projector. A pair of matching pajamas we never wore...

In five years, I had hand-picked every item in this house, turning a cold space into a cozy home.

But looking closer, Weston had never used most of it.

He said even in a relationship, he was an individual. He hated "couple items" because they made him feel trapped.

I pulled my thoughts back and continued sorting.

Once I was gone, these things would just be in his way. Better to get rid of them now.

I was purging our memories, one box at a time.