The Day I Chose My Parents Over My Fiance Chapter 08
I never thought I’d see Tristan again.
I definitely didn’t expect him to look like this.
He was leaning on a crutch, a jacket hanging off his frame. Whatever ease and confidence he used to wear was gone.
He’d lost so much weight his cheekbones jutted out, sharpening his face into something almost gaunt.
The moment he saw me, he lurched forward on the crutch.
His eyes lit up – desperate, alive – but his voice came out raw and scraped thin.
“Audrey…”
“Lily wasn’t at the engagement party.”
“I picked out every single one of those thousand roses myself.”
“I stayed up all night handwriting every invitation.”
“I visited venue after venue until I found one that could do the starlight theme you always loved.”
“I thought you’d come.”
I didn’t move. The silence hung between us before I finally answered.
“When my parents flew halfway across the country to Crestwood for our engagement dinner.”
“I thought you’d come too.”
All the color drained from his face.
I looked away and kept walking.
“Go home, Tristan.”
“The winters up north were never right for me. I like the rain down here.”
Behind me, a crutch clattered against the pavement.
He came after me, dragging his injured leg, stumbling.
“I’ll stay, Audrey. If you like it here, I’ll stay. I’ll move here for you.”
“Just don’t leave me. Please.”
His fingers caught my sleeve. I turned and saw his eyes-red-rimmed, wrecked – and for a second, time folded.
He’d looked at me exactly like this once before. In the ICU. Bruised and broken, begging.
“Audrey, don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
And my heart had cracked open. That was how he’d pulled me under – how I’d spent years drowning in the same questions.
Was I not enough? Was I too jealous? Too small?
But a year without him had taught me something. Those questions were never mine to answer.
I pulled my sleeve free.
“I’m not falling for this again, Tristan. Not twice.”
A voice called out from down the street. Oliver Grant was walking toward me, roses in hand, smiling wide.
“Audrey Brooks! Over here.”
He noticed Tristan standing there. His eyes drifted down to the crutch, to the leg, and something like pity crossed his face before he could stop it.
Tristan’s gaze moved from me to him and back.
Something broke behind his eyes. He dropped his head and stepped back, shrinking into himself.
He stumbled. Went down hard.
Oliver rushed over, pulled him to his feet, pressed the crutch back into his hand, and told him to take it easy
Tristan couldn’t take it. He turned and limped away as fast as his ruined leg allowed.
It hit him then- fully, finally.
His leg was ruined. He was ruined. Something broken beyond repair.
He would never pick her up and spin her around again. Never race her down a street at sunset.
Behind him, Oliver’s voice drifted over.
“Audrey, who was that guy? The way he looked at you – should I be worried?”
And then her voice – the voice he knew better than his own.
“I don’t know him. He was just asking for directions.”
She didn’t know him.
Good. That was good. Better she didn’t. Better than letting his broken body become something people pitied her for.
The wind picked up, cool and damp. And somewhere deep in his memory, her voice came back to him.
“Tristan is my boyfriend. And one day, he’s going to be my husband.”
“We’re going to be together forever and ever. Nothing’s ever going to come between us.”
The wind died down. And her voice faded with it.