Breaking Her Vows – Sasha Simpson

Dylan stood in the quiet, the weight of the moment settling like dust. She couldn’t do this anymore. She wouldn’t be able to pretend. She stared at the spot where Hayley had stood, memorizing it, letting the ache settle in her chest. 1kitap1.com/en y the time they crossed the border into Massachusetts, Hayley was ready to gnaw her own arm off just to feel anything at all.

Cody’s car felt like a suffocating capsule. She stared at the landscape flashing past, miles of dry grass and gas stations, little towns that looked like the paint had peeled off a century ago. They were going to Cody’s parents for the weekend— something he’d insisted on, framing it as a treat and not a parole hearing. “We can skip if you’re not feeling up to it,” Cody offered, for the third time in as many hours.

He didn’t look at her. “Honestly, I know you’re slammed with work. Mom won’t mind.” “I already told the office I’d be out,” Hayley said. “It’ll be good to see them.” Cody drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Just… don’t let my mom interrogate you. She gets excited and starts the ‘future grandchildren’ routine.” “I can handle it,” Hayley said, remembering the last time Margot Mills-Brown had spent the entire dinner toggling between listing Cody’s academic achievements and gently shaming Hayley for not having a taste for golf.

The memory made Hayley want to swallow her own tongue. Cody went silent for a bit, and Hayley let the music fill the car— bland indie-pop, probably curated by a team of Stanford MBA dropouts. Her thoughts drifted, as they always did, to the last time she’d felt anything approximating real: the library, Dylan’s hands on her hips, the hot press of bodies and the delicious danger of it all. Hayley replayed the scene obsessively, but only in fragments. The way her own voice had trembled; the shock of pleasure, the panic.

And afterward: the rush to build the wall again, to retreat. She remembered what Dylan had said—”It’s okay to want things.” Hayley was so deep in her own head that she didn’t notice when Cody veered off the highway and onto a winding side road, flanked by rows of sad evergreens and half-melted snow. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Town looks pretty much the same.

Except more vape shops, less dignity.” He forced a laugh, which died instantly in the quiet. They turned onto Main Street, and Hayley saw exactly what he meant. The town was a patchwork of nail salons and shuttered diners and “Historic” plaques nailed to buildings that would be condemned anywhere else.

he bride was ugly-crying into her third glass of champagne, and Dylan Hendricks was trying not to roll her eyes. “It’s just so perfect,” Rebecca sobbed, mascara streaking down her cheeks, making her look like a mime artist gone wrong. She flailed her arms at the rose-covered arbor, the soft petals trembling in the late afternoon breeze. “Marcus and I are so in love. This is the most important day of our lives!” Dylan nodded, forcing a sympathetic smile while mentally calculating how fucked her timeline was going to be if Rebecca kept this up.

She’d spent four painstaking hours getting that arbor positioned to catch the light just right, and now the bride was having a meltdown twenty minutes before the photographer wanted to start shooting. “I’m so glad everything turned out the way you wanted,” Dylan said, her voice calm as she pulled out her phone to fire off a quick text to Maya: Bride having moment.

Stall photographer 10 mins. What she didn’t say to Rebecca was “Girl, your husband-to-be was groping his groomsman behind the catering tent an hour ago.” Or, “you’ve been flirting with the bartender since cocktail hour started.” But hey, that wasn’t Dylan’s problem. Her job was to make sure the flowers looked good, the food didn’t run out, and nobody fell off the cliff during photos. Her job was not to give relationship advice to people who clearly hadn’t thought this whole marriage thing through.

“Dylan, you’re a miracle worker,” Rebecca gushed, swaying slightly on her Jimmy Choos. “The way you made everything so romantic, so magical. You must believe in true love even more than I do!” Dylan’s smile tightened. “Ah, true love—where the roses are as fake as your smile right now,” she thought, but instead said, “I believe in good vendors and detailed timelines.

That’s the real magic. Speaking of which, your photographer’s getting antsy about those sunset shots.” Rebecca squealed something about golden hour and tottered off, leaving Dylan alone for the first time in six hours. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the salty air mingling with the sweet scent of roses as she tried to center herself. The Astors’ estate was gorgeous, she’d give it that—all weathered shingles and manicured gardens that screamed old money louder than a Trump rally.

Her phone buzzed. Maya: Crisis level: groomsman puked on Table 8. Where do I put them? Table 12. Tell them it has a better view, Dylan texted back, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. You’re a genius. Also bride’s mom wants to know if you can make it less windy. Apparently nature is “ruining her vision.” Dylan actually snorted at that one. Yeah, she’d get right on controlling the weather. Maybe she’d call up God and ask him to dial back the October breeze while she was at it.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 9c2d7a1941204ceb
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,405,241 bytes (1.34 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 149
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 230.01 minutes
• Total Words: 46,003
• Total Characters: 270,529
• Average Words per Page: 308.74
• Average Characters per Page: 1815.63

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