It’s over. The music’s stopped, the guests have gone, and the house is quiet for the first time in months. I’m sitting in my armchair, still in my suit, tie loose, staring at the empty space where the dance floor was. Annie’s married. She’s really gone.

I remember the moment she told us—back from Europe, radiant, announcing her engagement to Bryan. Three months? I thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. And from that moment on, everything spiraled—meetings with the MacKenzies, Franck’s absurd demands, the swans, the pool, the jail cell…

I just wanted to protect her. To make sure she wasn’t rushing into something she’d regret. But somewhere along the way, I realized she wasn’t rushing. I was the one clinging.

Now, the phone rings. It’s her. From the airport. Her voice cracks: 'Dad… thank you. I love you.'

And just like that, the weight lifts. I turn to Nina, who’s been waiting for me all night, hand outstretched.

Do I take it?