Unraveling Hearts

Epilogue.

He came crashing into my life, tearing the world I know, and what used to be normal is no longer normal. Gray eyes with sapphire sparks seem more unfamiliar and suspicious than anyone or anything, and I've realized that I never really figured him out. 

It's the hardest thing to do. To figure someone out. 

And, unfortunately, I never did, not even once.

I just saw him through the rose-tinted filter, romanticizing the concept of him, and now, I'm all alone again for the first time in 18 years.

They say good times are excruciatingly short. And whatever good times I had with him. They were flickering. And what flickers is bound to go out sooner or later.

With a deep inhale, I absorb the enchanting view surrounding me. The soft December sunlight bathes everything in a radiant, golden hue, casting a serene ambiance over the garden. Each table is elegantly adorned with exquisite white linens and vibrant, blooming flowers, presenting a stunning display of colors. The orderly rows of white chairs stand poised while dainty ribbons sway gracefully in the gentle breeze. And the arch, under which the bride and groom will say 'I do,' is entwined in vines and more bright blooms, and the delicate fairy lights are strung above like twinkling little stars. The folks from Sparkling Soirées, the big-shot event company headed by its CEO Taylor Kennedy, mean business here as they scurry about, their clipboards and headsets orchestrating the final touches, getting everything just right.

My gaze drifts over as I see people I know, like my dad's folks and his lifelong buddies, and some I don't. The entire place is abuzz with their spirited chitchat, their laughter filling the air. While the bride is still hidden away, the secret star awaiting her grand reveal, I easily spot Jennie, who is here as my date, with her bright red dress and the way she throws her head back when she laughs as she mingles with the guests.

For a fleeting moment, I find my thoughts drifting to my mom, miles away in India. I've been talking to her over the phone and through messages; her presence is very much felt today... in the delicate gold bangle encircling my wrist. But then, reality pulls me back again as my dad appears, looking sharp in his tan three-piece suit, his smile reaching his eyes.

Our eyes meet, and my lips curve into an involuntary smile. "Are you happy, Dad?" I ask, trying to bridge the gap between us.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Very much, sweetheart. And you?"

"Just seeing you this happy is enough for me," I reply, my heart swelling with a mix of joy and nostalgia.

He nods, understanding unspoken words. "I know it's not easy, but having you here... it's the best wedding gift. It means a lot to both of us, Addy and me."

I chuckle softly. "Make sure you both look after each other, okay?"

"It's a promise," he assures me, his voice firm with conviction. "And remember, I'm always just a call away for you. I'm always here, no matter what."

"I know, Dad."

A sheepish smile breaks through, leaving me unsure what else to add to it.

It's all I really want – for my parents – my dad to be happy.

His voice cuts through the quiet, gentle yet laden with concern. "Heath isn't coming, is he?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. 

His words hang heavily in the air, causing a thick silence to settle between us. Confusion and hurt swirl within me, fresh and raw, the ache from Heath's absence a sharp pang. "No, Dad," I manage to respond, smiling the faintest smile, the turmoil inside too tangled for words, the heaviness of unspoken emotions pressing against my ribs.

***

What a wonderful ceremony it was! 

Now, at the reception, I stand quietly, watching the revelry unfold. My eyes trace the swirl of guests as they move; the air is filled with the soft clinking of glasses, the melodious tunes of a string quartet weaving through the air, and the gentle hum of conversation. My dad and his new wife are lost in their own world, laughing and dancing amidst the crowd, and I also catch a glimpse of Jen nearby, engaged in an animated flirtation with a guy.

In the midst of the lively ambiance, my mind can't help but drift to thoughts of him. I'd pictured him by my side, his presence adding an extra sparkle to the joyous occasion. We would stroll through the gardens, enveloped in animated conversation, stealing glances that speak volumes and dancing together, staring into each other's eyes. Well, I know why he had to leave so suddenly. Jen told me that he had to go due to an urgent call from his grandfather, and even though I completely understand it, it doesn't diminish the ache of his absence, knowing that he would have been here with me.

The mere reminder of his absence once again tugs at my heart as I reach for the cool, polished wood of the bar.

"A club soda, please," I request, my voice barely rising above the hum of festivities.

The bartender, her movements practiced and precise, pauses and glances at the bottles lined up like soldiers behind her. "With vodka or gin? Tequila?" she inquires, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

According to Jen, my roommate, it was revealed that Heath had to leave earlier because his grandfather called him. Urgent business, that's it. Cryptic like him.

"Just the soda," I insist, meeting his gaze with a polite but firm resolve.

She nods, acknowledging my choice, and soon, a glass filled with ice and bubbling soda sits before me, its simplicity a stark contrast to the extravagance around.

"Hey," a voice interrupts my quiet observation.

I turn to find a pair of curious eyes. "Hi," I respond, my guard momentarily down.

"Andrew," he introduces himself, "the bride's nephew."

"Mila," I say, "the groom's daughter."

His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Really?"

I nod, a playful challenge in my voice. "Why not?"

He chuckles, the sound lost in the noise. "Nothing... Want to dance?"

The invitation catches me off guard, only to remind me once again of Heath's absence. However, Andrew's expectant look pulls me back. 

"I'll call you soon." 

Heath's last words to me echo in my mind. 

It's only been a few days, but the silence feels longer. I try to push away the doubt creeping in – after all, he did say he would call, and I trust him with all my heart. 

 "Waiting for someone?" he probes gently.

Setting aside the conflicting emotions, I manage a smile. "No," I admit, the word liberating. "He isn't coming, anyway. Let's go, then!"

And with that, I step into the throng, the night unfolding before us, a story yet to be told, a dance to be danced.

Heath is a memory, but tonight, Andrew is real, and life, with all its unexpected turns, beckons.

Still... he'll call?