Page 4 of When Forever Falls Apart

My mother had an affair with some farmer, which resulted in Aston. We didn’t share the same father, and suddenly it all made sense: why Aston was always treated differently from me; why my mother frequently went AWOL, tryingto escape the truth. And, most importantly, the root of my father’s resentment. My father was no saint in all of this. He drove my mother away, and while I’m not one to condone extramarital affairs, a part of me understood why she found a connection with another man. My father can be a very cold and callous man. This family secret of ours was always set to destroy everything. At least, that’s what he said during the fight that revealed the truth.

Our whole lives were turned upside down the moment I said “I don’t” instead of “I do.”

“Aston,” I say faintly, “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. It’s pretty fucked up, but he’s still my father. A father I thought cared enough about me to check in to make sure I’m not dead in a damn ditch somewhere.”

“What do you expect, Madelina? You ruined his reputation. That’s all that matters to him. Look, you can’t avoid coming home. First, we all miss you. Second, your visa will expire, and you’ll get booted back to the States.”

Aston has a point—I can’t run away forever.

“Right… I guess I can’t afford to lay around the beach forever. It’s just the thought of going back to Cinnamon Springs is freaking me out. Four months ago I got engaged. A month after that, I’m running from the altar to end up alone in paradise. Now, the whole going-back thing? It’s a lot.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Eva chimes in. “I promise you, nothing feels better than being home. Summer in Cinnamon Springs is fun. Swimming at Peppermint Lake, afternoon strolls for ice cream. They’ve even reopened the drive-in theater, which they should never have closed to begin with.”

“They closed it down because it basically became a drive-in sex theater,” I remind her.

Eva laughs. “Oh yeah, but now they have a ranger who keeps an eye on all the cars.”

“What if I’m, like, canceled in everyone’s eyes?” I complaina little too loudly, only to notice one of the men beside me looking invested in my conversation.

“So? Own it. Get T-shirts made and maybe throw yourself a welcome party. Maddy, it’s one moment that will blow over as soon as someone else entertains them,” Eva tries to reassure me.

The familiar heaviness sits in the middle of my chest; a feeling I’ve gotten used to by now. “My life is just one big joke to everyone.”

“Only if you let it be,” Eva emphasizes. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Don’t let a bunch of bored townspeople stop you from shining.”

Only my best friend could convince me there is still some shine left in me.

I glance at my surroundings, willing myself to take it all in—from the idyllic sandy shore to the clear blue sky with not a cloud in sight. France is beautiful, it’s the country dreams are made of, but it isn’t home.

As soon as Aston and Eva say goodbye, I stand and walk toward the water. My feet squish into the pebbles with every step I take until the small waves crash into me. The water is reasonably warm, coaxing me to go further until my whole body is immersed in the ocean. My body relaxes, but something doesn’t feel right.

And that’s the irony of the situation.

I’m in the most beautiful place—yet I’m all alone, feeling the complete opposite of perfect. The unsettling feeling is enough to make me lose my patience and get out of the water. At least it’s cooler now, but with nothing to do and no one to talk to, I go back to the cabana chair with the same weight on my chest.

I can’t run forever, but I can lie here for a while and pretend the world around me doesn’t exist, and that the moment I turn on my socials, everyone will have movedon to something else and not still be fixated on Madelina Beaumont—the runaway bride.

The girl who gave up everything in the hope that there was something more.

I draw in a deep breath as if my life depends on it, and with renewed determination, I redownload my apps and dive back into the world of social media.

The loading symbol disappears, and without a second thought, I press the familiar Instagram icon to switch to my feed. Rediscovering what was once an addiction brings back a slight ping of excitement. In the top right-hand corner, red notifications catch my attention.

“Rip the Band-Aid off…” I mumble to myself.

I take another breath, ignoring the anxious butterflies in my stomach, and tap on my DMs. The last message is from someone I don’t even know tagging me in a picture by some influencer. I click through only to see a picture of me in a wedding dress with another man. I zoom in, unable to recognize the man, only to realize it isn’t evenmy dress! This shit is completely photoshopped. A swirl of nausea rushes over me as I read the caption.

The billionaire’s daughter runs away with a new man on her wedding day.

I gasp loudly, causing the people around me to look in my direction. Mr. and Mr. Eavesdropper beside me appear to be on the edge of their seats with anticipation.

My head snaps up and I tell them, “This is a lie! I didn’t cheat on Myles, okay? He was a great guy, andreallygood in bed. It just wasn’t right.”

They obviously have no clue who the hell I’m talking about, so I focus my attention back on my phone.

My hands begin to shake as I attempt to read the rest of the post, each word blurring together in a haze of frustration.Anger surges within me as I try to comprehend how people—strangers, no less—have the sheer audacity to make up so many lies.

There isn’t, nor was there ever, any other man. I simply didn’t feel the connection.How dare they spin things out of control for, what, a few hundred views?