Belle's POV

A week had passed since the confrontation with Dave’s mother, but it felt like a lifetime. Each day dragged on, and with every passing hour, I felt more and more like I was slipping away from myself.

The days blurred together. I spent most of my time idly, staring out the window or sipping on cocktails that did little to numb the ache in my chest.

And this cool breezy evening, I was doing just that. Nursing a drink in the sitting room, when my mother’s voice cut through the silence. She was on the phone, speaking in rapid Italian with a designer about the wedding dress the...