I took a few deep breaths and stood in front of the mirror, ready to leave.
Just then, there was a knock on my door.
"Come in," I said, turning around.
It was Mom. She walked in holding a box—and I could already tell from the sparkle on the lid that it wasn't just anything. She opened it to reveal a pair of stunning black and silver butterfly heels and a matching purse. They were beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made your breath hitch for a second.
She smiled softly. "Your dad used to say… good shoes will take you to good places."
I blinked fast, trying not to cry. There was that sad look in her eyes again—the one she tried so hard to hide. She looked so proud of me… and yet there was this heavy ache in her expression too.
"I just wish he could see you now," she whispered. "You look so beautiful."
I bit down on my lip to keep it together. "Mom, it's just a reunion. Not a wedding."
She chuckled quietly, brushing something off my shoulder. I forced a smile.
"Hopefully he makes it to the wedding," I added.
That did it. She pulled me into a hug and we held each other like we were both holding back pieces of ourselves.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"You're welcome, baby."
I picked up my coat and purse, kissed her cheek, and headed downstairs. At the last step, I turned around. She was standing by the window in her room, watching me from behind the glass. I waved at her. She waved back, but I could tell her thoughts were far away.
We never really talked much about Dad. It hurt too much. He'd been in a coma for seven years now, since the accident. That's why we both worked so hard—to keep his medical bills paid and hold on to the hope that one day… maybe one day, he'd wake up.
I took a taxi to the venue. The reunion was being held in a fancy restaurant at the top floor of a huge hotel—definitely the kind of place that said, "look who made it in life."
When I arrived, Teresa and Abbie were already outside, looking like literal models. If I didn't know better, I'd never guess we were the same three tired workaholics who lived on coffee and deadlines.
We linked arms and walked in together. The elevator took us to the penthouse where the restaurant and bar were. The doors opened—and it was like high school all over again.
Julie screamed when she saw us and ran across the room to hug all three of us at once.
Everyone was there. When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Including Jason.
Even Lucinda.
Yep. Her.
One of the top reasons why high school was absolute hell for me.
She waltzed over like she owned the place. Her fake smile was already in place.
"Well, well, if it isn't Chocolate Cream," she said with that annoying voice. "You look so good, I almost didn't recognize you."
Chocolate Cream.
Yup, that was my nickname—one that Jason gave me, actually. Sounds sweet, right? Nope. Not when it came from them.
He didn't call me that because I was sweet or looked like chocolate. It had nothing to do with my skin or my personality.
Freshman year. We were in catering class and made chocolate cream cake. The teacher loved mine—of course she did, I learned from the best: my mom. Lucinda, being her usual jealous self, stuck her leg out when I walked by. I tripped and fell face-first into the cake. I was covered in chocolate cream. Everyone laughed. Jason laughed the loudest. And just like that, the name stuck.
And it still stuck. Even when he decided I wasn't worth his time anymore.
Now he sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. Everyone else was mingling, laughing, catching up… but Jason? He just kept refilling his drink like the night had nothing to do with him.
When I walked in, I swear he turned to look at me. Just for a second. Then he quickly looked away, pretending he hadn't seen me at all.
My arrival drew attention. I didn't know if it was the dress or the heels or just the fact that I wasn't supposed to look this… different.
"Don't mind them," Abbie whispered, nudging me. "You look amazing. Have fun."
I nodded, but my stomach twisted. Was I doing too much? Did I look weird?
Everyone noticed me… except Jason. Or at least, he wanted me to think that.
The night dragged on. People shared stories, talked about their careers, some even confessed their old high school crushes. It was light and fun—for everyone but me. And Jason. He stayed planted at the bar, eyes distant, sipping whiskey like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
I hated how I kept watching him. Hated how much his silence stung. Had I done something to him? Was I that forgettable?
Lucinda wasn't helping either. She made sure to bring up all my embarrassing moments like she was still stuck in 11th grade.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. The air inside was getting too tight. I needed to breathe.
I slipped out and found a stairwell that led to the rooftop. It was quiet up there. Peaceful. The city lights stretched out like stars and the wind brushed against my skin, gentle and calming. I sat on the steps, letting the silence wrap around me.
Then I heard footsteps.
I wasn't alone.