Nadia had been engaged for three years, and she'd stopped believing in the fairy tale somewhere around month eight.
Still, she'd let her mother plan the ceremony — white roses, string quartet, a vineyard terrace strung with fairy lights. She'd let herself hope, just once, that tonight would feel like the beginning instead of the slow, grinding middle of something already dying.
She'd been looking for Daniel for twenty minutes when she found him.
The wine cellar was supposed to be empty. It was tucked beneath the terrace, cool and candlelit, a romantic afterthought the venue had shown her with a wink.
Nadia had descended the stone steps expecting to find her fiancé fetching a bottle, expecting to drag him back to their own party.
She found him against the far wall with his hands under
