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Panic steps in as notifications start pouring in from my social media pages.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
An army of digital hearts explodes on my screen.
Something happened.
Something freaking happened.
I didn’t post anything worth this much hype last night.
Did I?
“What’s wrong?” Hansley asks. He’s on the other side of the bed, his eyes wide and his shoulders tense.
After piecing together my crazy night with him, I can remember almost everything.
Running into him at the bar.
Talking.
Drinking.
Crying.
Drinking some more.
Bawling on the street.
Going dancing.
Laughing hysterically.
Drinking again.
The moment he proposed is etched into my soul. Venus’s wedding was over, but I couldn’t leave. I kept staring at the rice on the ground and the bouquet in my hands.
Sorrow overwhelmed me.
I felt insignificant.
Hollow.
Jealous.
Hansley approached and asked what was wrong. I screamed that no one would ever marry me. It was one of the most pathetic moments of my life. One I cringe to recall now.
Hansley got down on his knees and said, I’ll do it.
I’ll do it.
As if we were talking about who’d buy lunch.
“Asia.” Hansley grabs my wrist.
I yank my arm out of his.
He’s naked.
