Chapter 1: Pushed Out of the Frame

I picked up my bag from the small bench in the entryway and pushed open the shop door.

The bell above it chimed, bright and crisp.

No one called after me.

I glanced back once. Cleo was turning in circles in front of the mirror while Lachlan stood behind her, adjusting the decorative bow at her waist.

“Yeah, just like that,” Rhys said.

The shutter clicked, firing in a rapid burst.

I turned and walked to the parking lot, then got into my six-year-old Honda Civic.

My phone lit up. An iMessage from the wedding planner.

“Zinnia, the wedding is only seven days away. Can we confirm the final invitation design?”

Another message followed immediately.

“If you’re having trouble deciding, Cleo can choose. She has great taste.”

The car was so quiet all I could hear was my own breathing.

Staring at the screen, I wondered just how many times I’d been forgotten in this relationship.

I replied: “Let her decide.”

This time, I truly didn’t want to deal with it. Lachlan would just do whatever she wanted in the end, anyway.

The planner quickly texted back: “Got it.”

Then messages started flooding the group chat. Rhys had uploaded today’s photos. The composition was stunning, like something out of a bridal magazine.

Only the man and woman in the ads weren’t me and my fiancé.

When I was little, I always envied the girl who got to play the bride. After I met Lachlan, I thought I’d finally have my chance to be the one in the center of the picture.

I’d spent months making lists for this wedding, terrified something might go wrong. It was supposed to be proof—proof that quiet, undemanding Zinnia could be chosen, firmly and without hesitation, just once.

But in the end, I was still pushed out of the frame.

My phone lit up and went dark, over and over. No one noticed I’d left. No one asked where I’d gone.

I drove back to my apartment in Queens, tore the note that said “7 days until the wedding” off my fridge, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it in the trash.