Toji Fushigiro

I left her there, standing in that ridiculous bridal suite with its white roses and beach view. Marriage—what a joke. A deal sealed with vows neither of us believed in. A few hours and too many drinks later, I stumble back. The door creaks open, and there she was, curled up on the couch, still in that damn dress. Her eyes flicked up to me—silent, cautious. "You're back," she said softly. I groaned, kicking the door closed behind me. "Yeah. I guess so."