Chapter 11 - THE NIGHT MADISON FINALLY BROKE
Grief doesn't move in a straight line.
I learned that the hard way.
Some days, I felt strong.
Independent.
Happy.
Other days, a song in a grocery store could make me cry.
One evening, I found a box of wedding invitations in the back of my closet.
I sat on the floor.
Opened it.
And stared.
Madison Hale & Everett Cross
November.
Fredericksburg.
Together forever.
I began crying.
Not because I wanted Everett back.
Because I was grieving the woman who had believed those words.
Nathaniel called.
I didn't answer.
He sent a message.
Hope you're okay. No pressure to reply.
I stared at it.
Then typed:
I'm having a bad night.
He answered:
Want company?
I hesitated.
Then wrote:
Yes.
He arrived twenty minutes later.
Carrying soup.
Bread.
And a small bag of chocolate.
I laughed through my tears.
“Did you rob a grocery store?”
He smiled.
“Almost.”
We ate on the living-room floor.
Then I told him everything.
The wedding invitations.
The house.
The betrayal.
The way I sometimes felt foolish for not leaving sooner.
Nathaniel listened.
Then said:
“Madison, you trusted someone you loved.”
I looked down.
He continued.
“That isn't foolish.”
My eyes filled.
“Then why do I feel so stupid?”
He took my hand.
“Because betrayal makes people question their own judgment.”
I swallowed.
He smiled gently.
“But Everett's choices don't define your intelligence.”
I leaned against him.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then I whispered:
“I'm scared.”
Nathaniel looked down.
“Of what?”
“Loving someone again.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
I looked up.
“And hurting like this.”
He brushed a tear from my cheek.
“I can't promise you'll never be hurt.”
My eyes filled.
“But I can promise I won't ask you to ignore your own feelings to protect mine.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time, I let myself believe that love could be different.
