Third Wedding, Right Groom

iles Morretti, had walked away from

ne I'd spent months choosing, feeling the weight

ming through the stained-glass windows, casting rainbow patterns across

Even Miles had seemed genuinely present this time, holdi

wfully wedded wife"-when his assistant burst through the chapel doors with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. "Mr. Morretti," the man said, breathless and pale, his tie askew like he'd run the entire way her

that never seemed directed at me but at some invisible force pulling him away. He pul

les asked, his voice tight with worry that should have been reserved for our wedding vows. "It's Miss Valeria, sir." The assist

e's talking about leaving the country permanently. She's saying she has nothing left

re again." Miles turned to me, and for a moment-just a fleeting, heartbreaking moment-I thought I saw genuine anguish in his eyes. Real conflict. Real pain. But I'd learned the hard way that with Miles Morretti, pain didn't equal action. It didn't equal choosing me. "Lila, I'm sorry," he said, alr

k. "Valeria has no one else, Lila. You know that. Our parents died six years ago. It's been just the tw

isper, but they echoed in my head like a scream. "What about the promises you made to me? What about us?" Miles to

e everything. "You should be more magnanimous, Lila. You have t

g. A better one. Whatever you want. I'll make sure Valeria apologizes for all the trouble she's

step that took him further from our future and closer to Valeria's manufactured crisis. Leaving me standing there in front of everyone-our families, our friends, our colleagues,

r th

u belie

e-that's n

. That sister has him

left him after

she keep

it had been breaking for years, fracture by

ver going to be enough for Miles Morretti. Because in his world, I wasn't competing with another woman for his affection. I was competing with his guilt, his misplaced sense o