Page 48 of In Another Time

Marcus grabbed him by the arm and whispered, “Chill, bro. For real. Don’t even feed into this shit.”

Mr. Hayes stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for it to sting. “This marriage, . . . it’s not just about love, Omir. It’s about image. Structure. You should understand that if you want to build something that lasts.”

I stepped back, shrugged off the tuxedo jacket, and handed it to the tailor without a word. “I’ll be outside,” I muttered, already walking toward the door.

The second that cool air hit my face, I let out a slow breath and leaned against my car. My hands trembled. Not from fear. From restraint. That man was lucky I had self-control.

I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over Anya’s name. I thought about calling her. Telling her what happened. Letting her know I needed her to check her father.

But I didn’t press it. Because in that moment, the only face that flashed in my mind was Lennox. Her eyes. Her voice. Her truth spilling out at the lake like it had been sitting heavy on her soul for months.

“I love you.”

Fuck. I clenched my jaw and shoved the phone back in my pocket. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t pretend like I was okay with marrying into a family that looked down on me like I was temporary. Like I was tolerated instead of embraced. I couldn’t walk into forever with a woman who, as beautiful and kind as Anya was, didn’t hold weight when it came to Lennox.

I didn’t remember the drive. Not really.

One minute I was gripping the wheel like it might fly out of my hands, and the next I was pulling up to the bridal boutique. Outside, the windows glowed soft with warm light. Inside, Anya stood on a raised platform, a white gown draped around her body like a dream she’d been building since she was a little girl.

Her friends stood around her. Her mother was adjusting the veil, smiling like it was already done. And I stood there. Watching it all. Knowing I was about to shatter the whole damn thing. I pushed open the door and cleared my throat.

“Anya.”

Everyone turned. The room went still.

Her smile faded the second she saw my face. “Omir? What are you?—?”

“Can we talk?” I said, my voice low but firm. “Outside.”

Her mom stepped forward. “We’re in the middle of?—”

“We need to talk now.”

Anya blinked, then nodded. “Okay.” She followed me out to the sidewalk, her heels clicking softly against the concrete. The dress still trailed behind her like a train of innocence I didn’t deserve to touch. We stopped under the golden late afternoon light. She crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”

I swallowed hard. I had to say it. No matter what it broke. “I can’t do this shit.”

She blinked. “Can’t do what?”

“This,” I said, gesturing between us. “The wedding. Us.”

Her face cracked like glass. “What. . . what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can’t marry you.” My throat burned. “Because I’m in love with someone else.”

The silence after that? Heavy. Deafening. Her voice shook. “You’re what?”

“I’ve tried to push it down. Tell myself it was old feelings. That it didn’t matter. But I’m not built to live a lie, Anya. Not with you. Not with myself.”

Tears filled her eyes. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“I didn’t know sooner. Not like this.”

She looked away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Who is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” she snapped, voice trembling. “Who is she, Omir?”

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