Chapter One (Draft Opening Scene)
Present Day — Peyton & Martin
The earrings don’t match.
She notices it too late — one pearl, one tiny gold hoop — while tilting her head toward the bedroom mirror, already running late. She exhales through her nose, quietly irritated with herself. Martin’s voice floats in from the hallway, low and warm.
“Need help with the clasp?”
He steps into the room holding her forgotten clutch. Peyton forces a smile. “No, I’ve got it. Just having a moment.”
Martin leans against the doorframe, watching her fumble with the mismatched earrings. “You look great either way.”
She lets out a short laugh. “One pearl, one hoop?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, grinning. “Very... fashion-forward.”
It should feel light. It almost does.
He walks over, gently takes both earrings from her fingers, and replaces them with matching studs from the small tray on the dresser she’d normally wear. His touch is soft, familiar. His eyes linger on her just a little longer than necessary.
Then, casually — too casually — he asks, “Do your parents still wear their wedding bands?”
Peyton stills.
She blinks at their reflection in the mirror — her eyes, wide; his, curious. Not accusatory, just wondering.
“I don’t think they ever did when I was growing up,” she says eventually, voice low. “Honestly, I don’t even remember what they’d look like.”
Martin nods, lips pressed into a line. “That’s kind of sad.”
She shrugs. “It is what it is.”
But it isn’t. Not really. Not when that tiny question throws her mind into a spiral — into her mother’s clenched jaw, her father’s apologies, the nights of shouting that she used to pretend not to hear. Not when it reminds her of Ralph, and the ring he never wore, the promises he never made.
The ghosts are quiet, but they’re always there.
Let’s go, Pey, she tells herself. It’s just a wedding.
Still, as she walks out the door, her hand brushes against her own bare ring finger — and lingers.
