Chapter 4: Letting Go Hurts Like Hell

The living room was alive with excitement. The chandelier threw gold across every surface, and the place was packed—cousins, aunts, neighbors, everyone clutching sparkling cider and lemon bars. The TV blared Tigers highlights, but no one was really listening.

Marcus and Lillian were the stars—Grandpa Allen cracking jokes about wedding cake, my nephew racing circles with a toy train. Marcus looked calm in his navy jacket, Lillian blushing, clutching a bouquet of lilies that matched her name.

Grandma Carol, old but still sharp, sat in her favorite recliner, a crocheted afghan on her knees. “So, Marcus, when’s the big day?” she asked, voice quivering with age.

Marcus’s answer was steady: he wanted to marry Lillian as soon as possible. A hush fell. Pride and satisfaction hung in the air, as if this marriage would fix something broken. Lillian’s mom dabbed at her eyes. The clinking of glasses started up again.

I watched him closely. He was different from the Marcus I remembered. In my old life, Marcus at eighteen hadn’t been worn down by his stepmother yet—he was a little childish, always splashing lake water at me when we went boating, then picking wildflowers for Lillian. At the Fourth of July fair, he let Lillian pick the fireworks she wanted and gave the rest to me.

It was always the little things—the way he laughed, the way he looked at her, like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

In that moment, it all clicked. He must have dreamed the same dream I did. Now that the dream was over, it was time to wake up.

My jaw clenched. I blinked hard, refusing to let a single tear fall. My heart ached, but I knew I couldn’t keep holding onto a future that wasn’t mine. I needed to let go—to find out who I could be on my own.