"This is ridiculous," I said, my voice sharp with disbelief. "Two weeks? You expect us to get married in two weeks?"

My father sighed as if I was being unreasonable. 

"Vienna, dear, this is for the best. The sooner the better. The media is already talking, and if we let this linger, it will only get worse."

Keith let out a dry laugh, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Of course. A quick wedding announcement should fix everything, right?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to his father. "That's your great plan? Force me into a marriage I don't want so the media stops talking about me? Brilliant."

Aaron Devlin's expression darkened. 

"Watch your tone, Keith. You created this mess with that scandalous display. Margaret Howey, really? What were you thinking?"

Keith's jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't respond.

Aaron leaned forward, his hands pressed against the desk. "People will forget, Keith. They always do. But only if you give them something else to talk about. The announcement will shift the focus. The engagement will turn into a wedding, and that is what they will remember."

I felt sick.

Keith ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "This is insanity."

"No," my father cut in, his tone firm. "This is business."

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Of course, it was. It always was.

Keith's shoulders tensed beside me, and for the first time, I felt something other than frustration from him. Something closer to anger, but laced with something else I couldn't quite place.

Aaron's gaze turned cold. "The decision has been made. You will be married by the end of the next week. If either of you has any objections, keep them to yourselves. You have no choice in this matter."

Silence stretched between us.

For once, Keith didn't argue.

And neither did I.

I didn't know if it was shock or exhaustion, but as we exited the office, I felt like I was moving in slow motion. The door clicked shut behind us, and the weight of what had just happened settled on my chest like a heavy stone.

Keith was ahead of me, walking briskly, his movements rigid.

I followed quietly, not sure if I should say something or let the silence hang between us.

Then, out of nowhere, he turned on me.

"You look like you have something to say," he snapped.

I blinked at him, taken aback by the venom in his voice. "I don't."

His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "That's a first."

I frowned. "Keith, I'm upset too."

His laugh was hollow. "Oh, I'm sure you are. This must be so hard for you, Vienna."

His sarcasm stung more than I cared to admit. "Why are you so angry at me? I didn't create this mess."

"You didn't?" He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You agreed to it. You stood there and let them control you. You are just as much a part of this as I am."

I stared at him, his words cutting deep. He was lashing out, but why? Why all of a sudden?

"You have been very vocal lately," I muttered, watching him closely. "At least now you're showing me some sort of emotion."

He stiffened.

I tilted my head, studying him. "Is this because of Margaret?"

Keith's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes darkened, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Mind your own damn business," he spat. "Stop thinking about my life, my relationships, my choices. You don't matter in any of it."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Fake fiancée." he muttered as he looked away.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. 

"You're right." My voice was quieter now. "I don't matter."

He exhaled sharply, as if he had more to say, but I didn't give him the chance. I turned and walked away. 

Each step I took felt heavier than the last.

I didn't understand why he was so angry at me. Why he was taking all his rage out on me when I was suffering just as much.

And worse, I didn't understand myself.

When did I start caring about Keith Devlin?

What exactly had I seen in him that made me so stupid to fall for him?

The realization made my stomach churn.

"I had to kill these feelings before they got worse. Before they consumed me."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Jesse's number.

"Vienna?" he answered almost immediately. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I need the day off. I just... I need to go home."

A pause. Then, "Yeah, of course. Do you need me to—"

"No. I just need to be alone."

"Alright," he said softly. "Take care, okay?"

I ended the call before I could say anything else.

By the time I got home, the weight of everything crashed into me all at once.

I dropped my bag on the floor and sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. The pressure in my chest was unbearable.

A sob escaped before I could stop it.

I hated this.

I hated this entire situation.

I hated how my life had spiraled out of my control, how I was being forced into something I didn't want, how the whole world was watching and judging me.

And most of all, I hated that whenever I closed my eyes, all I saw was Keith's face.

His cold eyes. His mocking smirk. The way he kissed Margaret.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

I needed to stop thinking about him.

I pushed myself off the couch and made my way to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. My eyes landed on the bottle of wine tucked in the corner.

Without thinking, I grabbed it.

I didn't bother with a glass. I twisted the cap off and took a long, burning gulp.

I just needed to forget.

Forget Keith.

Forget this wedding.

Forget everything.

But no matter how much I drank, no matter how much I tried to drown it all out, the only thing I could see was that damn picture.

Keith.

Margaret.

Their lips pressed together.

And the sinking feeling that, no matter how much I hated it, no matter how much I tried to deny it...

It hurt.

It hurt more than I could ever admit.

~

The bottle slipped from my fingers, rolling across the wooden floor with a dull clink before coming to a stop near the edge of the couch.

I sat on the floor, my legs sprawled out in front of me, my back slumped against the sofa as I stared blankly out the window. The evening sky had darkened into an inky shade of blue, speckled with the faint glimmer of city lights. The distant hum of traffic echoed through the streets below, but it felt like background noise, like a world separate from mine.

I felt empty.

Numb.

The alcohol coursed through my veins, leaving a dull warmth in my chest, but it did nothing to fill the hollow ache inside me. My head was heavy, my body sluggish, but my mind refused to quiet down.

The weight of my phone in my lap dragged my gaze downward.

And then I saw her.

The screen had dimmed, but there she was—my mother.

A soft picture of her smiling, frozen in time, untouched by the cruel years that had passed without her.

My throat tightened as I picked up the phone with trembling fingers, my thumb hovering over the screen before I finally swiped across it, bringing the picture into full view.

A lone tear slipped from my eye, trailing down my cheek as I let out a shaky breath.

"If only you were here," I whispered into the silence.

My voice wavered, barely above a breath.

"If you were here, things would have been different. You wouldn't have let them do this to me. You would have fought for me, wouldn't you?"

I ran my fingers across the screen, tracing the curve of her gentle smile.

The ache in my chest swelled.

"Mom," I let out a choked sob. "The guy I like is always so mean to me."

Another tear slid down my cheek, followed by another, and another.

"He hates me," I confessed, my voice breaking as I pressed the phone to my chest, clutching it as if it could somehow bring her back.

"He looks at me like I'm a burden," I whispered through my sobs. "Like he can't stand the sight of me."

I sucked in a shuddering breath, but the pain didn't ease.

"Why did it have to be him?"

I wiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand, but the tears kept falling, betraying me.

"I didn't even want to fall for him," I admitted bitterly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't ask for this."

But it was too late.

Because I had.

I had fallen for him.

And Keith Devlin didn't care.

He didn't care that my heart ached every time he threw those cold, cutting words at me. He didn't care that every time he lashed out, it felt like he was shoving me further into the pit of despair. He didn't care that I was standing at the edge of something dangerous, something that would ruin me if I let it.

And that realization shattered me more than anything else.

I let my head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the room spun slightly from the alcohol.

A bitter laugh escaped me, but it held no real amusement.

"How pathetic," I muttered to myself. "I'm crying over someone who doesn't even think twice about me."

The truth of it burned.

I needed to stop this.

I needed to get rid of these feelings before they ruined me completely.

Because Keith wasn't going to change.

He wasn't going to magically look at me one day and realize he cared.

And even if he did, it would be too late.

I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion weigh me down.

But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't push his face from my mind.

Keith, standing in front of me, telling me he wanted this to end.

Keith, looking at Margaret with an expression I had never seen directed at me.

Keith, telling me I didn't matter.

Another sob wracked through me, and this time, I didn't try to stop it.

Because, for the first time, I realized something painful.

I had spent so much time being angry at this situation, at my father, at Keith's indifference.

But the person I hated the most right now was myself.

Because despite everything—despite the cruel words, the cold glances, and the way he made me feel so insignificant—

I still wanted him to look at me.

I still wanted him to care.

And that, more than anything, was the cruelest part of all.

I had no idea how or when my fingers moved on their own, dialing his number. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding my judgment, or maybe it was the unbearable weight in my chest that I could no longer carry alone. But as soon as the first call rang unanswered, followed by a second, the fog in my mind lifted just enough for realization to hit.

He wasn't ignoring the calls.

He was cutting them.

My grip on the phone tightened as frustration built inside me. I stared at the screen, watching as the line went dead once again. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs.

And then, all of a sudden, the phone vibrated in my hands.

My breath hitched.

Why am I being so desperate? So needy?

The name flashing across the screen sent a rush of nerves through me.

Keith.

I swallowed hard, my fingers hovering over the screen before I shakily pressed the answer button, lifting the phone to my ear.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Keith's sharp voice cut through the line before I could even speak.

I flinched at the anger in his tone.

"Do you not get it when someone doesn't want to talk?" His voice was sharp, clipped, each word dripping with irritation. "I ignored the first two calls, Vienna. You had to keep pushing, didn't you?"

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words died in my throat.

"You're so impatient," he scoffed. 

I sucked in a shaky breath, pressing my palm against my mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to escape. He wasn't even letting me speak. He wasn't even giving me a chance to explain why I had called.

He just assumed the worst of me.

Like always.

I bit down on my trembling lip, gripping the phone tighter as his words sank deeper, cutting through whatever strength I had left.

"I swear, Vienna, do you ever think before you act? Or do you just make everything about yourself?" he continued, his voice colder than I had ever heard it. "I don't have the time or patience to deal with your ridiculous calls right now."

Through the haze of his words, I caught a faint noise in the background.

The soft hum of the engine.

The faint whoosh of passing cars.

He was driving.

Guilt twisted inside me. 

Had I distracted him? Made him lose focus on the road?

But before I could even apologize, something else made my entire body go numb.

A woman's voice.

Light. Flirty. Playful.

The sound of laughter.

And then, the words that sent my world crumbling down.

"Keith, you're being so mean," the woman's voice teased, closer this time. "Who are you talking to?"

The bottle slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

I sat frozen, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to do anything but listen as Keith let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'll call you later," he said dismissively, as if I was nothing more than an inconvenience. "I'm busy."

My throat burned. My heart ached.

"I need to focus on more important things," he continued, his tone void of any concern. "Like figuring out ways to get out of this damn marriage."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, my fingers still curled around it, even though there was nothing left to hold onto.

Tears spilled down my cheeks, silent and unrelenting.

The woman's voice replayed in my head like a cruel melody.

Margaret.

It had to be her.

Keith had been with Margaret this whole time.

A broken sob escaped my lips as I curled into myself, hugging my legs tightly, as if I could physically hold myself together.

I had been such a fool.

All this time, I had been fighting my own feelings, trying to make sense of the ache in my chest, trying to understand what it was about Keith that had drawn me in.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Because the answer was clear.

Keith Devlin was already thinking of a future without me.

And I was the only idiot who had no idea what to do.