The week of Olivia’s wedding arrived, and with it, a strange calm settled over me. I’d expected to feel guilt or regret, to question my decision to prioritize myself over family expectations. Instead, I felt the quiet thrill of autonomy, like I’d finally stepped off a path that was never mine to walk.
The morning of the wedding, I woke early, sunlight streaming through the curtains of my beachfront suite. The sound of waves greeted me, rhythmic and reassuring. I sipped coffee on the balcony, watching the ocean breathe in and out, a reminder that life moved on, indifferent to human drama.
By afternoon, I was exploring the local market, vibrant and bustling. Vendors sold everything from handmade jewelry to tropical fruits, their stalls a kaleidoscope of color and life. I found myself drawn to a small pottery stand where a woman with kind eyes and weathered hands crafted unique pieces. I bought a small vase, its glaze a deep, calming blue.
