Chapter 6: Regret and Reckoning

I refused the bride’s attempts to keep me and insisted on leaving.

Lillian tried to catch my arm, her smile faltering. "Are you sure you don’t want to stay for cake?"

Behind me, I heard her reproachful voice.

She called after Natalie, her voice high with concern.

"Nat, what’s wrong with you today? Why are you talking so weird?"

You could hear the confusion in her words—she was used to kindness, not cold fronts.

"She came all this way to congratulate us. You’re being too rude."

Lillian’s disappointment was palpable. I hoped she wouldn’t blame herself.

Even someone as inexperienced as she was could sense something off in her tone.

She’d picked up on the tension, her eyes darting between us.

A bridesmaid suddenly chimed in, "Rachel Lee—that name sounds familiar, isn’t she…"

The words made me freeze. I pretended to check my phone, dreading the next sentence.

"Shut up."

Natalie cut her off, voice sharp.

It was the same tone she’d used with me when she wanted to end an argument—authoritative, final.

I walked out of the estate and waited at the gate for my Uber to pull up.

It was dusk, the sky streaked with orange and purple. I clutched my phone, boots crunching on the gravel drive, trying to steady my nerves.

A gust of wind blew, dust stinging my eyes. I rubbed at them.

The wind picked up, swirling loose petals across the driveway. My eyes watered, and I cursed the fancy landscaping.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached, and a hand gripped my arm tightly.

Fingernails digging into my sleeve, I turned, startled. I was ready to pull away, but her face stopped me.

I turned and found myself face-to-face with Natalie’s cold expression.

She didn’t say a word at first, just stared at me with those ice-blue eyes.

"Don’t get the wrong idea. Lillian insisted I come out to apologize to you."

She said it like an accusation, not an olive branch.

"Isn’t there anything you want to ask me?"

Her voice was softer, but only just. I could tell she was fishing for something.

I shook my head. "No."

I met her gaze, refusing to give her any more power over me.

Natalie clicked her tongue, and seeing my watery eyes, sneered, "Rachel Lee, still pretending to be tough?"

She tried to look into my eyes, but I blinked away the dust. I wasn’t about to cry for her.

"You’re so eager to leave because you don’t want me to see you down and out, isn’t that right?"

Her words were sharp, meant to wound.

"You dumped me because I was broke. Now that you see I’m rich, you must regret it so much."

She stepped closer, daring me to deny it.

Regret?

For a split second, I felt it—a pang, deep in my gut. But it wasn’t about losing Natalie. It was about losing time, losing chances, losing the version of myself who still believed in fair fights.

I did regret it.

I regretted not breaking up sooner and accepting Marcus’s proposal earlier.

If I had, I could’ve swallowed my pride for money, let my mom have her surgery, and she wouldn’t be left with aftereffects, sitting in a wheelchair today.

I still have nightmares about that hospital room, about watching her struggle with every step. If only I’d been stronger, sooner.