Chapter 1: Driving back to her home
The sun-warmed leather of the driver’s seat felt like a hug. Or maybe that was just the happiness radiating from deep inside her. Simone Meyers glanced at the passenger seat, where her NYU graduation cap , its black square and purple tassel, a stark symbol of a dream achieved, sat like a proud, silent companion.
Eight years. It had taken eight years of pouring coffee, memorizing specials, and smiling until her cheeks ached at that high-end bistro in Georgetown. Eight years of saving every tip, every bonus, watching her friends buy new cars and take fancy vacations while her bank account slowly, painstakingly, grew toward this single goal.
And she’d done it.
She turned up the radio, letting the music mix with the hum of the tires on the I-95 South. Washington, D.C. was getting closer with every mile. And with it, Alex.
A smile touched her lips. Alex Hall. Her fiancé. Her rock. The man who had walked into the bistro five years ago few months before she got accepted into uni, all sharp suit and easy smile, had asked for her number instead of the check. He’d never once made her feel less than for her job or her past. He’d celebrated every saved dollar, quizzed her for exams over takeout, and had been the one to ugly-cry when she got her acceptance letter.
She’d been a little sad that he’d missed the ceremony yesterday. A last-minute crisis with a client at the Hunt Group, he’d said. Her best friend Erica, too, had bailed, citing a family political thing that couldn’t be avoided. But Simone couldn’t hold onto the disappointment. Not today. The pride was too big, the future too bright.
Her phone buzzed in the cup holder. A text from Billy, her ride-or-die from the bistro days. *“DC’s finest waitress is now DC’s finest grad! Drive safe, superstar. Call me when you’re home and tell me all about it. Love you!”*
She laughed. Billy was the only one who refused to let her forget where she came from. She loved him for it.
She took the exit into the city, the familiar skyline making her heart swell. Soon, she was turning onto the tree-lined street of their neighborhood. *Their* neighborhood. Alex had bought the townhouse three years ago, right after he’d proposed on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He’d put the deed solely in her name since she had refused to move into his potomac house. “A foundation that’s just yours, Simi,” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion. “No one can ever take it from you. Ever.”
The man was practically a saint. Everyone said so.
She pulled into the driveway, noting with a flicker of surprise that Alex’s car wasn’t the only one there . Maybe he’d prepared a surprise? A graduation gift? Her excitement bubbled over. She grabbed her cap and her small overnight bag, practically skipping to the front door.
The house was quiet when she stepped inside. Still. “Alex?” she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious foyer. “Honey, I’m home!”
No answer. Maybe he was napping. He’d been working so hard lately.
She dropped her bag by the stairs, a plan forming. She’d sneak up, wake him with a kiss, and then… well, they could celebrate properly.
She crept up the carpeted stairs, a giddy smile on her face. The door to their bedroom was slightly ajar. She could hear a faint, muffled sound. Was that… laughter?
Her smile widened. He was awake.
She pushed the door open, the words “Surprise!” poised on her lips.
They died there.
The room was dim, but the afternoon sun sliced through a gap in the curtains, illuminating everything in a cruel, stark light.
It illuminated the clothes scattered on the floor. A man’s shirt. A woman’s dress she recognized instantly. It was the emerald green cocktail dress she’d helped Erica pick out for a fundraiser last month.
It illuminated the two figures in the bed that was supposed to be *theirs*.
Alex’s head shot up, his eyes wide with a panic so absolute it sucked all the air from the room. And next to him, tangled in the sheets that smelled of her laundry detergent, was Erica. Her best friend from university. Her maid of honor. Her face was a mask of sheer horror.
Time didn’t slow down. It shattered.
The graduation cap slipped from Simone’s fingers, hitting the plush carpet with a dull, meaningless thud. The sound of the highway, the graduation march, the sound of her own joyful heart—all of it was replaced by a high, deafening silence.
She stood in the doorway of the home he’d given her, the future she’d built with him lying in ruins at her feet, and the only thing she could think was that the tassel on her cap was supposed to be moved from the right to the left.
She’d never gotten the chance to move it.
