Updated Mar 21, 2026 • ~9 min read
SUMMER – SATURDAY, LANCASTER ESTATE
Theo’s mother has summoned me.
“Wedding planning brunch,” she called it.
It’s an interrogation.
The dining room table is covered in binders. Fabric swatches. Vendor portfolios.
Astrid sits at the head like a general planning war.
“Summer! Finally.” She air-kisses both cheeks. “We have so much to finalize.”
My mother is already here.
Of course she is.
They’re united. A terrifying alliance.
“Sit, dear.” Astrid gestures to a chair.
I sit.
Feel the trap close.
ASTRID
“First item: the venue has a cancellation for eight weeks from now.”
My blood runs cold.
“Eight weeks? The wedding is supposed to be in twelve.”
“Was supposed to be,” my mother corrects. “But this is the Plaza, Summer. People wait years for Saturday availability.”
“We already have a date—”
“This is better,” Astrid interrupts. “Sooner is better. Before you get cold feet.”
Her eyes are sharp. Assessing.
Does she know something?
“I don’t have cold feet,” I lie.
“Good. Then there’s no reason to wait. Theo agrees.”
“He does?”
“Of course. He’s eager to make you his wife.”
The room tilts.
Eight weeks.
Rose’s gallery opening is in seven.
If I marry Theo in eight weeks…
The timeline collapses.
Everything collapses.
“I need to talk to Theo first,” I manage.
“He’s in his father’s study. Go. We’ll wait.”
It’s not a suggestion.
SUMMER
I find Theo looking at spreadsheets.
Even on a Saturday, he’s working.
“Hey.” He looks up. Smiles. “Surviving the wedding planning?”
“They want to move the date up.”
“I know. My mom told me. What do you think?”
“I think twelve weeks was already fast.”
“But eight is better. We get the Plaza. Saturday night. It’s perfect.”
“Theo—”
He stands. Crosses to me. Takes my hands.
“I know you’re nervous. But Summer, I can’t wait to marry you. Every day that passes feels like wasted time.”
Guilt.
Crushing, overwhelming guilt.
“Don’t you want to wait? Have a longer engagement?”
“Why? We’ve already been together a year. We know this is right.”
Do we?
Does he?
Because I don’t.
“What if I’m not ready?” I whisper.
His face changes. Concern. Worry.
“Are you having doubts?”
Yes.
So many doubts.
But I can’t say that.
Not with our mothers downstairs. Not with two families’ expectations. Not with business deals and social alliances hanging in the balance.
“No. Just… nervous.”
Relief floods his features.
“That’s normal. My mom had the same cold feet before she married Dad. It’s a big step.”
“Did she almost call it off?”
“What? No. Summer, where is this coming from?”
“I just want to make sure we’re doing this for the right reasons.”
“We are. I care about you. You care about me. We’re building something solid. Something real.”
But it’s not real.
None of it is real.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
“Okay to the new date?”
“Okay.”
He kisses me. Soft. Relieved.
I feel nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
JAX – SATURDAY AFTERNOON, BROOKLYN
Marco’s watching me pace the shop.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
“Summer’s been weird all week.”
“She’s always weird.”
“More weird. Distant. Something’s wrong.”
“So ask her.”
“I did. She said she’d tell me Friday.”
“That’s yesterday.”
“She didn’t come.”
Marco stops tattooing. Looks up.
“She bailed?”
“Family emergency. Her grandmother.”
“Again?”
“What do you mean again?”
“Jax, every time something important comes up, she has a family emergency. Her grandmother gets sick a lot, doesn’t she?”
I freeze.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe there is no grandmother. Maybe she’s lying.”
“Why would she lie?”
“Why does anyone lie? Because the truth is worse.”
I grab my phone. Text Summer.
How’s your grandmother?
Better. Thanks for asking.
Which hospital is she at? I want to send flowers.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Finally: She’s home now. But that’s really sweet.
What’s her address?
Jax, you don’t have to—
I want to.
More dots.
Then: She doesn’t like visitors. Very traditional. But I’ll tell her you offered.
Marco’s watching me.
“She won’t tell you, will she?”
“No.”
“Because there is no grandmother.”
My chest tightens.
“You don’t know that.”
“Then prove me wrong. Show up at her place Monday. See if she’s really ‘with family.'”
“That’s crazy.”
“No, it’s smart. You’ve been dating this girl for two years. You don’t know where she lives. Where she works. Who her family is. That’s not a relationship, Jax. That’s a secret.”
The words land.
Because he’s right.
“I’ll talk to her Friday,” I say.
“You mean when she shows up again? If she shows up?”
“She’ll show up.”
But I’m not sure anymore.
Not sure of anything.
SUMMER – SATURDAY NIGHT
I’m back at Theo’s place.
His mother finalized everything while I was upstairs.
Eight weeks.
Saturday at the Plaza.
Three hundred guests.
Orchestra. Twelve-tier cake. Ice sculpture.
A spectacle.
Not a wedding.
“You’re quiet,” Theo says.
We’re in bed. He’s reading. I’m staring at the ceiling.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Everything. The wedding. Us. The future.”
He sets down his book. Turns to face me.
“Summer, are you happy?”
Second time someone’s asked me that this week.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
His face falls.
“You don’t know if you’re happy with me?”
“I don’t know if I’m happy with… any of this. The wedding planning. The expectations. The timeline.”
“We can slow down—”
“Can we? Your mother already booked the Plaza. The invitations are being printed. There’s an orchestra.”
“If you want to postpone—”
“Do I have that option? Really? Or will your mother and my mother and both our fathers pressure us until we go through with it anyway?”
Silence.
Because he knows the answer.
“This is what we signed up for,” he says quietly. “When we agreed to let our families match us. We knew there would be expectations.”
“I didn’t think it would feel like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m being sold.”
He flinches.
“Is that how you see me? As someone who bought you?”
“No. I see you as someone who deserves better than this. Better than a wife who isn’t sure.”
“Summer—”
“I need some air.”
I get up. Pull on clothes. Leave.
He doesn’t stop me.
THEO
She left.
Just walked out.
I stare at the ceiling.
Adrian was right.
Something’s wrong.
I grab my phone. Text him.
Hire the PI.
About damn time. I already did.
When?
Last week. Should have a report Monday.
Part of me is relieved.
Finally, answers.
But another part is terrified.
What if Adrian’s right?
What if Summer’s cheating?
What if I’m Blake all over again?
SUMMER – SUNDAY, 2 AM
I’m walking through Manhattan.
Alone.
Phone off.
The city that never sleeps.
Neither do I anymore.
I end up at Melody’s apartment.
Bang on the door until she answers.
“Summer? It’s two in the morning—”
I push past her. Collapse on her couch.
“The wedding’s in eight weeks.”
“Okay?”
“Rose’s gallery opening is in seven.”
Understanding dawns on her face.
“Oh.”
“Theo’s mother booked the Plaza. My mother approved. It’s done.”
“Did you tell Theo you want to postpone?”
“I tried. But it’s not about what I want. It’s about business. Alliances. Appearances.”
“So cancel it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You just won’t.”
“If I cancel, my parents will disown me.”
“So what? You’re twenty-three. Get a job. Build your own life.”
“Easy for you to say. Your parents are supportive.”
“My parents are divorced and both remarried to people I hate. I built my own life because I had to. You’re choosing to stay trapped.”
Her words sting.
“I’m not choosing this.”
“You are. Every day you don’t end it, you’re choosing. Every lie you tell, every excuse you make, every time you run back to both of them instead of picking one—you’re choosing this mess.”
“I love Jax.”
“Then leave Theo.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Summer!” She’s frustrated now. “There is no ‘soon.’ The wedding is in eight weeks. The gallery opening is in seven. This train is leaving the station whether you’re ready or not.”
I know.
God, I know.
“I’ll tell Jax the truth,” I say. “This Friday. About Theo. About everything. And I’ll let him decide.”
“Decide what?”
“If he still wants me. After he knows what I’ve done.”
Melody softens. Sits beside me.
“He’s going to be hurt. Devastated.”
“I know.”
“You might lose him.”
“I know.”
“But it’s the right thing to do.”
I nod.
Close my eyes.
Friday.
I’ll tell him Friday.
And hope he doesn’t hate me.
Hope there’s still something worth saving.
But deep down, I know.
When he finds out what I’ve done…
I’m losing him.
And I’ll deserve it.
THEO – MONDAY MORNING
The PI’s report arrives via email.
I stare at it.
Forty-seven pages.
I open it.
Start reading.
And my world tilts.
Subject: Summer Chen
Surveillance Period: One week
FINDINGS:
- Subject maintains residence in Brooklyn (address attached) despite claiming to live with parents in Queens
- Subject frequents tattoo parlor “Ink & Steel” (Brooklyn) multiple times per week
- Subject photographed entering/exiting building with unidentified male, Latino, approximately 26-30 years old, multiple tattoos
- Physical contact observed: kissing, hand-holding, intimate embraces
- Subject spends Friday-Sunday at male’s apartment
- Male identified as Jaxon Torres, owner of “Ink & Steel”
- Relationship appears romantic/sexual in nature
The photos are attached.
Summer kissing someone else.
Summer in his arms.
Summer looking at him the way she’s never looked at me.
I’m going to be sick.
ADRIAN
Theo calls me at 9 AM.
“You were right.”
His voice is dead.
“Theo—”
“She’s been cheating. The whole time. Two years, according to the report.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“We have a wedding in eight weeks. Invitations are going out this week. Three hundred guests.”
“Cancel it.”
“My mother will—”
“I don’t care what your mother will do. Cancel. The. Wedding.”
Silence.
Then: “I need to confront her first.”
“Why? You have proof.”
“I need to hear her say it. I need to look her in the eye and watch her lie.”
“Theo—”
“She’s coming for dinner Wednesday. I’ll do it then.”
“You’re going to wait two days?”
“I need time to process. To decide how to handle this.”
He hangs up.
I stare at my phone.
This is going to be a disaster.
SUMMER – MONDAY NIGHT
Oblivious.
I have no idea the ax is about to fall.
I’m planning what to tell Jax on Friday.
Rehearsing my confession.
I’m engaged. I’m so sorry. I love you. Please forgive me.
Hoping he’ll understand.
Hoping he’ll give me another chance.
Not knowing that by Wednesday…
Everything will already be over.
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