Five years earlier…
Elena Vasquez had never been happier.
At twenty-five, her world felt like it was finally falling into place. She had a job she loved at the Millbrook Community Center, helping kids discover passions and parents find resources they never thought they could afford. She had a tiny apartment above the bakery on Main Street, where every morning the scent of cinnamon rolls drifted through her window like a private blessing. And most of all, she had Marcus Rivera her best friend since childhood, her lover since college, her fiancé for the past six months.
Her future husband in just three months.
The engagement ring on her finger glinted as she adjusted the arrangement of white roses on the church's wooden table. She turned the blooms carefully, fussing with their angles as if perfection here might foreshadow perfection on her own wedding day.
The church vestry smelled of polished wood and lilies, and somewhere down the hall, an organist tested a soft line of music for Saturday's ceremony. Elena smiled, a wistful ache in her chest. She could already picture her own wedding here: nothing extravagant, just family and friends, the same sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows that had once bathed her grandparents in color on their own wedding day. Afterward, everyone would gather in her grandmother Rosa's backyard, fairy lights strung through the trees, laughter rising into the night. Simple. Perfect. Theirs.
"You're glowing."
Elena looked up to see Sarah Martinez leaning in the doorway, her maid of honor, co-worker, and closest friend. Sarah's dark curls were pinned haphazardly, as though she'd been running around all morning, but her eyes danced with warmth.
"Marriage agrees with you," Sarah added, stepping closer. "And you're not even married yet."
Elena laughed, turning with an armful of roses. "I can't help it. I'm just so happy, Sarah. Everything is… it's all falling into place exactly the way we planned."
Sarah's smile softened, but her tone shifted. "Have you heard back from that job application? The one in Albany?"
The question made Elena falter. She'd sent that application weeks ago on a whim, more a dare to herself than anything else. The Hudson Valley Foundation was prestigious, a nonprofit known statewide. She hadn't expected to hear back, hadn't even told Marcus she'd applied.
"Not yet," she said quickly, eyes dropping back to the flowers. "And it doesn't matter. My life is here."
Sarah tilted her head, as if sensing the evasion, but said nothing. Elena was grateful. She didn't want to pick at the edges of her certainty, not when everything looked so bright.
That evening, Marcus picked her up for dinner at their favorite restaurant, a tiny Italian place tucked behind the post office. It had only six tables and checkered tablecloths that hadn't changed in decades. They had their first official date there, and every time they returned, it felt like reliving the beginning of something beautiful.
Marcus looked impossibly handsome that night in his dark blue shirt the one that made his brown eyes look deep, almost black. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a smudge of sawdust near his cuff from working at his uncle's construction business, but to Elena he'd never been more perfect. When he smiled at her across the table, she felt the same flutter she'd felt as a teenager sneaking glances at him during study hall.
"I have something for you," he said as the waiter left with their order.
"Marcus, you already gave me a ring," Elena teased, holding up her left hand.
"Not that kind of gift." His grin widened as he pulled a small wrapped box from his jacket. "Consider it an early wedding present."
Curious, Elena tore the paper away, revealing a tiny velvet box. Inside lay a simple silver key. She blinked, confused.
"I bought the Morrison place," Marcus said, his eyes searching hers. "The one on Elm Street with the big front porch and the oak tree in the backyard. I know we talked about renting for a while, but when it went on the market, I couldn't resist. It's ours, Elena. Our forever home."
For a moment, Elena couldn't breathe. The Morrison place was beautiful, a craftsman-style house with restored woodwork and charm in every detail. She could already picture Marcus fixing things up, his hands steady, his laugh echoing through its rooms.
But it was also permanent. Rooted. A declaration that their life would always be here in Millbrook.
"Marcus, this is…" She swallowed, forcing a smile. "It's incredible. But we should have discussed"
"I know. I should have asked first." His words tumbled out quickly, earnest. "But I wanted to surprise you. The market was moving fast. Elena, you should see it. There's a room perfect for your sewing, and the kitchen has this window that looks out over the garden. We could be so happy there."
His excitement was infectious, and despite the panic fluttering in her chest, she found herself smiling. "It sounds perfect."
"It is perfect. We're perfect." He reached across the table, threading his fingers through hers. "I love you, Elena Vasquez. I love our life, our plans, our future. Promise me you'll never doubt that."
"I promise," she whispered.
The word lodged in her throat, heavy as stone. A vow and a lie all at once.
Later, as they walked back to his truck, the streetlamps pooling golden light across the sidewalk, Elena's phone rang. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. She hesitated before answering.
"Elena Vasquez?" The voice on the other end was crisp, professional. "This is Jennifer Walsh from the Hudson Valley Foundation in Albany. We'd like to offer you the position of Program Director. The salary is competitive, and there are excellent opportunities for advancement. We believe you'd be a strong fit."
Elena froze, her pulse thundering in her ears. This was the kind of call people dreamed of. A door opening into a future she'd never dared to believe was possible.
"I… could I call you back tomorrow?" she managed.
"Of course," Jennifer replied smoothly. "But we'll need an answer by Friday. The position starts Monday."
When Elena lowered the phone, her hands trembled. She turned and found Marcus watching her, curiosity etched into his features.
"Who was that?" he asked.
Her mouth went dry. She could tell him. She could share the truth, the possibility, the fear. Instead, the lie slipped out, quiet and poisonous.
"Wrong number."
Marcus nodded, the confusion fading. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they crossed the street. Elena forced a smile, but inside she was unraveling.
That night, in his apartment above the garage, they made love with a desperation that bordered on frantic. Marcus held her like a man who believed in forever, who trusted the promise she'd whispered across the dinner table. Elena clung to him like a woman standing at the edge of a cliff, trying to memorize the way his breath caught, the weight of his body, the warmth of his skin.
When he finally drifted to sleep, his arm draped over her waist, Elena stared at the ceiling. The room smelled faintly of cedar and laundry soap, comfort woven into every detail. But her mind raced.
Two futures stretched out before her.
One led to Albany: challenge, growth, the career she had once only dreamed of. A chance to prove herself beyond Millbrook, to see who she could become.
The other led to Elm Street, to the Morrison place, to a life of certainty with Marcus Rivera the boy she'd loved since childhood, the man she had promised forever.
Her heart ached with the weight of choice. She wanted both, but she knew she could not have them.
At 3:00 a.m., tears pricking her eyes, she made her decision.
At 3:15, she began to pack.