I walk stiffly, my whole body is like a statue. My father’s grip is firm, possessive. I can smell his cologne, the same one he’s worn since I was a child. For some reason, it makes bile rise in my throat.

As we walk out of the room, I glance back. My mother is standing there, watching us. Her face is pale, but her eyes… her eyes are burning.

The hallway is quiet, and soon we step out into the garden where I had my engagement party. It looks the same and not the same. Flowers bloom along ...