Chapter 1: The Tear That Changed Everything

The last thing I remember before dying was Marcus’s hand gripping mine, his tear glinting in the glow of Maple Festival lanterns. The air was thick with the sweet scent of cotton candy, our laughter echoing between bursts of fireworks. In that moment, I truly thought our story would last forever.

Looking back, Marcus Caldwell and I were Maple Heights’ golden couple. People whispered about us at the annual festival, and the baristas at Brew House Café always winked when we ordered our usuals together. On those chilly Michigan mornings, knowing Marcus was mine warmed me from the inside out.

Our love felt untouchable—like we were the couple everyone measured themselves against. Sometimes at summer block parties, Marcus would catch my eye, his brown gaze reflecting fireworks overhead. Friends teased us, but we just grinned, sure nothing could shake us.

That certainty stayed with me until the end. As I faded, I saw a single tear streak down Marcus’s cheek. For a heartbeat, the world held still. That tear made me believe everything would be okay—enough to carry me into whatever came next.

But when I opened my eyes again, the world was buzzing—literally. My house was filled with voices, laughter, the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls hanging in the air. Everything looked the same, but I felt like I’d landed on a different planet.

Only this time, Marcus wasn’t here for me. He was here to propose—to someone else.

My heart hammered as I tore down the hallway, passing family photos and sunlight pooling on the maplewood floor. Laughter grew louder. Even as my feet hit familiar boards, I felt like a stranger in my own home.

Across the crowd, I saw Marcus take my cousin Lillian’s hand. He looked straight at my family and declared, “Lillian’s not like Natalie—she doesn’t have to be. I’ll always have her back, no matter what.”

The room went silent. Aunt June dabbed her eyes. Uncle Pete nodded, stone-faced. Lillian blushed, staring at the rug like she wanted to disappear.

My hands went numb. I pressed them to my chest, as if I could stop my heart from splintering right there on the maplewood floor. I blinked hard, refusing to let a single tear fall in front of them.

Was everything I’d lived before just a dream?

The living room—the Detroit Tigers pennant above the fireplace, Aunt June’s lemon bars cooling on the counter, the scent of old books—suddenly felt like a place I’d never belonged. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, desperate not to let anyone see my pain.