Page 150 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
The moment I finished speaking, something inside me broke quietly at the thought of it.
I don’t even know if I can do it.
But I had to believe I could.
Ramiro didn’t respond.
He only sighed.
The car shifted slightly as we approached something louder, more chaotic.
I could feel it before Ramiro even spoke again.
Music spilled into the night air in waves I couldn’t see but could feel in my bones.
The club.
We had arrived.
And suddenly I understood why I had asked for this.
Not because I wanted joy.
But because I couldn’t stand silence anymore.
I needed noise to cover the echo of Rafael’s footsteps leaving the room.
To erase the image my mind kept replaying—the way he had said Zara’s name like it still hurt to breathe it.
Ramiro slowed the car.
The engine softened as he parked.
“People here can be a bit unpredictable,” he said, voice lowering. “And given your visual impairment... are you certain this is the place you want to be?”
There was real concern in his tone.
I didn’t let myself think.
If I did, I might stop.
And stopping meant going back.
Back to silence. Back to thinking. Back to him.
I reached for the door handle before doubt could grow teeth.
“I’m sure,” I said.
The door opened, and the sound of the outside world rushed in immediately—bass heavier now, laughter sharper, the distant clatter of heels on pavement.
I stepped out.
The air hit me differently here.
Warmer and alive in a way Rafael’s estate never was.
I adjusted my footing carefully, letting the ground beneath me register through my senses.
