The wedding was small.
That was the first thing I noticed when I came downstairs in the dress my mother had picked out for me—soft blue, simple, nothing that would draw attention away from her. The sitting room had been transformed overnight. White flowers everywhere. Chairs arranged in neat rows. A small arch by the windows where the winter light came through pale and soft.
Maybe thirty people. Richard's family, a few friends, some colleagues . My mother had no family to invite. Just me. And one friend who'd flown in that morning.
I hadn't seen Diane in years. She'd been my mother's closest friend back when I was young, before life got complicated and people drifted apart the way they always do. She looked the same as I remembered—blonde hair, sharp features, the kind of smile that never quite reached her eyes.
Her daughter stood beside her.
Meredith.
The air left my lungs.
She was taller now. Hair darker. But I recognized her immediately, the way you recognize a nightmare even when the details have shifted. We'd gone to the same school. Run in the same circles. She'd been there when everything fell apart.
She'd been one of the first to share the video.
Our eyes met across the room. Her lip curled, just slightly. Disgust. Judgment. Everything I'd run from, standing ten feet away in a floral dress.
I looked away first.
The ceremony passed in a blur.
I stood beside my mother, holding her bouquet when she needed her hands free, watching her face as she said her vows. She was crying. Happy crying, the kind that made her look young and hopeful in a way I hadn't seen in years. Richard held her hands like she was something precious.
Across the arch, Asher stood beside his father.
He was wearing a dark suit. No tie. Top button undone. He looked uncomfortable in the formal clothes, like they didn't quite fit right even though they obviously cost more than anything I'd ever owned. His jaw was tight, his posture stiff, but he was there. Present. Watching his father promise forever to a woman he'd known for barely a year.
I wondered what he was thinking. If this was hard for him. If he was remembering his mother, wishing she was the one standing there instead.
His eyes flicked to mine.
I looked away.
After, there was champagne. Laughter. People congratulating Richard and Claire, shaking hands, making small talk. I drifted through it like a ghost, smiling when I was supposed to, answering questions I barely heard.
Yes, I'm Claire's daughter. Yes, I just moved here. Yes, I'm starting at Ashworth after the break. Yes, it's all very exciting.
The words came out mechanical. Empty.
I could feel Meredith watching me. Every time I glanced in her direction, she was there, whispering something to Diane, looking at me with that same expression. Like I was something dirty. Something shameful.
Like she knew exactly what I was hiding.
I needed air.
I found a corner near the back of the room, half-hidden behind a tall arrangement of flowers. Pressed my back against the wall and tried to breathe. The champagne glass in my hand was shaking. When had my hands started shaking?
"That woman's daughter keeps staring at you."
I jumped.
Asher was beside me. I hadn't heard him approach. He wasn't looking at me, just gazing out at the room with his hands in his pockets, casual, like he'd wandered over here by accident.
"It's nothing," I said.
"Didn't say it was something." He glanced at me sideways. "But she looks at you like you owe her money."
I almost laughed. Almost. It came out as something closer to a breath.
"We went to the same school," I said. "Back home. She's just... we didn't get along."
He was quiet for a moment. Watching the room. Watching Meredith, who was still staring, still whispering.
Then his arm hooked around my neck.
Casual. Lazy. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. He pulled me into his side, my shoulder against his chest, and I was so surprised I forgot to resist.
"What are you doing?"
"Smile."
"What?"
"She's still looking." His voice was low, close to my ear. "Smile like I just said something funny."
I tried. It felt weak on my face, more grimace than grin.
"That's pathetic," he said. "I'm funnier than that."
Something broke loose in my chest. A snort escaped before I could stop it, and then I was actually laughing, the sound bubbling up from somewhere I'd forgotten existed. He glanced down at me, and there was something in his face—not a smile exactly, but the shadow of one. The closest I'd seen him come.
"Better," he said.
I was very aware of his arm around me. The warmth of him through his suit jacket. The way he smelled—clean, expensive, something I couldn't name.
Across the room, Meredith was still watching. But her expression had shifted. Confusion now. Maybe jealousy.
"She's going to think we're together," I said.
"Let her."
"That doesn't bother you?"
He shrugged. The movement shifted his arm against my shoulders. "I don't care what people think."
"Must be nice."
He looked down at me then. Really looked, in that way he had that made me feel like he was seeing straight through my skin to whatever was underneath.
"You care too much," he said.
"I know."
"It'll destroy you if you let it."
I didn't have a response to that. He wasn't wrong. I'd spent two years letting other people's opinions eat me alive, letting the whispers and the stares and the judgment carve pieces out of me until I barely recognized what was left.
"How do you stop?" I asked.
He was quiet for a long moment. His arm was still around me. Neither of us had moved.
"You decide that you're the only one who gets to define you," he said finally. "Everyone else is just noise."
"That simple?"
"I didn't say it was simple. I said that's how you do it."
The reception continued around us. Music playing. People laughing. My mother dancing with Richard, her head on his shoulder, looking happier than I'd ever seen her.
Asher dropped his arm.
The absence of his warmth felt sudden. Cold.
"I should go find my father," he said. "He'll want pictures."
"Yeah. Okay."
He started to walk away. Stopped. Looked back at me over his shoulder.
"You're not pathetic," he said. "Whatever she thinks she knows about you. She doesn't know anything."
He left before I could respond.
I stayed in my corner for a while longer,thinking if he saw the video he would behave just like her.
Meredith caught my eye one more time before she left with Diane. That same look. That same judgment.
But this time, I didn't look away first.
I held her gaze until she turned. Until she walked out the door. Until she was gone.
Then I went to find my mother, hugged her tight, and told her she looked beautiful.
She did. She really did.
And for the first time since I'd arrived in England, I thought maybe—just maybe—things might actually be okay.