The sun had already started to set, casting long, bloody streaks of orange across the sky when we arrived at the rehearsal dinner venue. It was a fancy waterfront restaurant my family had rented out just to impress Danielle’s parents. It was way over their budget, something Brandon had complained about for months, but appearances were everything to the Fosters.
Every table had champagne glasses already poured. Every seat had gold-trimmed place cards. And every person inside already had an opinion about me.
Except this time, they weren’t laughing.
Nathaniel didn’t let go of my hand once. Heads turned the moment we walked in. Conversations dropped off mid-sentence. I caught glimpses of widened eyes, the subtle nudges between relatives who had never once asked how I was doing over the last two years.
My cousin Charlotte’s jaw was practically on her plate. My brother’s fiancé, Danielle, blinked at us like we had walked in wearing Halloween costumes.
Brandon was standing by the head table, holding a scotch. When he saw us, his face tightened into a mask of confusion and annoyance. I could tell he didn’t recognize Nathaniel at first. Not until one of the groomsmen—a finance guy from the city—leaned in and whispered something urgently in Brandon’s ear.
Then his expression changed fast. Fear.
“Is that…?” I heard someone mutter behind us.
Nathaniel pulled out a chair for me quietly, casually, then sat beside me like he owned the place. Which, knowing him, he might have considered buying on the drive over.
My mom hadn’t said a word since the front door incident earlier. She walked in five minutes after us, red in the face and moving like someone who had just had the rug pulled out from under her. She sat across the room with Aunt Carol and didn’t even look in our direction.
It was awkward. It was tense. But it was glorious.
Just when things were beginning to settle, the microphone screeched.
Brandon stood at the head of the room, grinning nervously, tapping the mic. “Alright, everyone. Let’s get this started. First of all, thank you all for being here. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day, but tonight… tonight’s for laughter, for love, and for family.”
I saw his eyes flick to me for just a second. His smile twitched, a reflexive cruelty kicking in.
“And since we’re all together,” he continued, gaining confidence from the alcohol, “why not start with a little story about my amazing sister, Hannah?”
Nathaniel shifted in his seat, his body tensing like a coiled spring.
Brandon raised his champagne glass. “Hannah, the girl who once tripped over her own shoelace at my middle school graduation and took down the cake table. You remember that, right, Han?”
A few awkward chuckles rippled around the room. I didn’t say a word. I just stared at him.
Brandon grinned wider, misinterpreting the silence. “Don’t worry, sis. We’re not expecting you to make a scene this time. Though, I gotta say, the outfit earlier today was bold. Very… grunge chic.”
The room rippled with uneasy laughter. It was their default setting: mock Hannah, feel better about themselves.
Nathaniel stood.
He didn’t slam the table. He didn’t shout. He just stood up, calmly and confidently. The room went dead quiet instantly.
“Actually,” Nathaniel said, his voice even and projecting perfectly without a microphone. “If anyone owes someone a toast, it’s me.”
Brandon blinked, his smile faltering. “Uh…”
Nathaniel turned his gaze to me, softening instantly, before addressing the room. “To Hannah. Who stood strong when others mocked her. Who held her head high when her own family tried to humiliate her. And who, despite everything, has more class in one ruined dress than some people have in their entire overpriced suits.”
Aunt Carol choked on her drink, coughing loudly into a napkin.
Nathaniel raised his glass. “To my wife. And to knowing your worth, even when the people closest to you forget it.”
He clinked his glass against mine. The sound rang out like a bell.
The silence that followed was louder than the toast.
And then Brandon muttered, loud enough for the front tables to hear, “Wait… wife?”
Someone gasped. My mother dropped her fork onto her china plate with a loud clatter.
Nathaniel glanced around the room and spoke again, quieter this time, but with lethal precision. “Yes. I’m Hannah’s husband. I wanted to meet her family properly before tomorrow, but it seems I already have.”
He sat down like nothing happened. He took a sip of his water.
My brother stood there frozen, the microphone limp in his hand. His fiancé tugged at his sleeve, whispering something urgent and angry. My mom looked like she’d aged ten years in ten minutes.
And me? I just smiled and took a sip of my champagne. Because they still had no idea what was coming tomorrow. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.
Chapter 4: Sapphire Blue
