Unraveling Hearts

Epilogue.

He comes crashing into my life, tearing the world I know, and what used to be normal is no longer normal. Gray eyes with sapphire sparks seem more unfamiliar and suspicious than anyone or anything, and I've realized that I never really figured him out. It's the hardest thing to do. To figure someone out. And, unfortunately, I never did, not even once.

I just saw him through the rose-tinted filter, romanticizing the concept of him, and now, I'm all alone again for the first time in 18 years.

They say good times are excruciatingly short.

And whatever good times I had with him. They were flickering. And what flickers is bound to go out sooner or later.

I sigh and look around, scanning the place. It's a perfect December afternoon, and the sun makes everything look like it's glowing. The garden unfolds before me, a rainbow of colors, with each table covered in soft white cloths and topped with bright flowers. White chairs are lined up in neat rows, and ribbons dance in the gentle breeze.

The arch, under which the bride and groom will say 'I do,' is wrapped in vines and more bright flowers, and the delicate fairy lights are strung above like twinkling little stars.

The folks from Sparkling Soirées, the big-shot event company captained by its CEO Taylor Kennedy, mean business here as they scurry about, their clipboards and headsets orchestrating the final touches, getting everything just right.

My gaze drifts over as I see people I know, like my dad's folks and his lifelong buddies, and some I don't. The entire place is abuzz with their spirited chitchat, their laughter filling the air. While the bride is still hidden away, the secret star awaiting her grand reveal, I easily spot Jennie, who is here as my date, with her bright red dress and the way she throws her head back when she laughs as she mingles with the guests.

For a fleeting moment, I find my thoughts drifting to my mom, miles away in India. I've been talking to her over the phone and through messages, her presence is very much felt today... in the delicate gold bangle encircling my wrist. But then, reality pulls me back again as my dad appears, looking sharp in his tan three-piece suit, his smile reaching his eyes.

Our eyes meet, and my lips curve into an involuntary smile. "Are you happy, Dad?" I ask, trying to bridge the gap between us.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Very much, sweetheart. And you?"

"Just seeing you this happy is enough for me," I reply, my heart swelling with a mix of joy and nostalgia.

He nods, understanding unspoken words. "I know it's not easy, but having you here... it's the best wedding gift. It means a lot to both of us, Addy and me."

I chuckle softly. "Make sure you both look after each other, okay?"

"It's a promise," he assures me, his voice firm with conviction. "And remember, I'm always just a call away for you. I'm always here, no matter what."

"I know, Dad."

A sheepish smile breaks through, leaving me unsure what else to add to it.

It's all I really want—for my parents—my dad to be happy.

His voice cuts through the quiet, gentle yet laden with concern. "Heath isn't coming, is he?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

The silence stretches, a canvas for the words we don't speak. Confusion and hurt swirl within me, fresh and raw, the ache of Heath's absence a sharp pang. I muster only the faintest smile and a shrug, the turmoil inside too tangled for words, the heaviness of unspoken emotions pressing against my ribs.

***

I stand at the edge of the reception, my eyes tracing the swirl of guests as they move in a symphony of celebration, the air filled with the soft clinking of glasses, the melodious tunes of a string quartet weaving through the air, and the gentle hum of conversation. My dad and his new wife are in their own world, laughing and dancing amidst the crowd, and then I see Jennie nearby, animatedly flirting with a guy.

As a silent observer of this joyous atmosphere, a stark contrast to the lingering thoughts of certain gray eyes and his absence, I approach the bar, the polished wood cool under my fingertips.

"A club soda, please," I request, my voice barely rising above the hum of festivities.

The bartender, his movements practiced and precise, pauses and glances at the bottles lined up like soldiers behind him. "With vodka or gin? Tequila?" he inquires, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Just the soda," I insist, meeting his gaze with a polite but firm resolve.

He nods, acknowledging my choice, and soon, a glass filled with ice and bubbling soda sits before me, its simplicity a stark contrast to the extravagance around.

"Hey," a voice interrupts my quiet observation.

I turn to find a pair of curious eyes. "Hi," I respond, my guard momentarily down.

"Andrew," he introduces himself, "the bride's nephew."

"Mila," I say, "the groom's daughter."

His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Really?"

I nod, a playful challenge in my voice. "Why not?"

He chuckles, the sound lost in the noise. "Nothing... Want to dance?"

The invitation catches me off guard. My mind races—Heath's absence a shadow that lingers—but Andrew's expectant look pulls me back. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see a familiar face, but there's only the jubilant crowd. I face Andrew again, his hand extended, an offer of escape from my thoughts. "Waiting for someone?" he probes gently.

"No," I admit, the word liberating. "He isn't coming, anyway. Let's go, then!"

And with that, I step into the throng, the night unfolding before us, a story yet to be told, a dance to be danced.

Heath is a memory, but tonight, Andrew is real, and life, with all its unexpected turns, beckons.