Starla’s tired eyes scanned the hall, her camera heavy against her chest with every step. White roses lined the walls in immaculate rows, their faint fragrance clinging to the air. Round tables stretched across the room, each swallowed by gleaming ivory silk that shimmered beneath the golden wash of sunlight filtering through tall cathedral windows. The light fell across polished floors, breaking into long streaks that shifted with the bustling crowd. Laughter and conversation overlapped in waves, but to Starla it was just background noise, a haze that blurred into static.

Her hand tugged at the strap of her backpack, pulling it higher against her shoulder, an old habit whenever she felt the ache of nerves settle into her chest. She adjusted the strap of her camera, steadying herself, keeping her movements efficient and professional.

Then—

“Ms. Lee, is it?”

The voice cut through the hum of the room. Masculine. Firm, but polite.

Starla stopped in her tracks and turned. Standing before her was Joseph, the groom-to-be, the man who had contacted her weeks ago with clipped, businesslike emails. He looked exactly as she had imagined: tailored suit hugging broad shoulders, hair combed neatly back, every bit the picture of a man hosting a grand event.

Starla’s lips curved into a practiced smile, the kind she had perfected over the years. Polite, warm, detached. “Yeah, that’s me,” she replied, her voice even.

Joseph’s smile softened in return, pleasant but distracted. His gaze flickered past her, searching the room, until it landed on someone else entirely. His eyes lit with something fonder, something intimate. He lifted a hand.

“Honey! Come over here!”

Starla followed his line of sight, the corners of her smile faltering before she even realized. Her breath hitched. The room seemed to dull, the noise dipping into muffled background hum.

The woman walking toward them stole the air from her lungs.

The face was unmistakable.

Starla froze, rooted to the spot as memories roared up like a tide, sharp and unbidden. That smile, those eyes—features she had once known so well. A face she had traced with her fingertips in stolen hours, a face she thought she’d never see again.

Joseph’s hand settled gently at the small of the woman’s back as she reached him, a gesture of easy possession, unknowing intimacy.

“Ms. Lee, this is my fiancée,” Joseph said warmly, pride slipping into his voice.

Starla’s gaze lingered on her ex, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. She forced herself to breathe, to move, to mask the flood of emotion rushing through her. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, the motion jerky, betraying her.

Her ex looked radiant—absolutely breathtaking in a way that made Starla’s chest ache. Time had only sharpened her beauty, not dulled it.

Starla pressed a smile onto her lips, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her voice was steady, but thin.

“Ah. Congratulations on your marriage,” she said softly, the edges of her tone strained, like glass under pressure.