First, After

She checked the time.

Checked her phone.

Checked the door.

Checked her reflection.

He’s not late.

He’s not late.

He’s not—

coming?

Stop.

That’s not fair.

Be fair.

You said you'd try.

He wanted sushi.

You picked Italian.

Like the rehearsal night—

the last thing he ate.

It’s not a test.

It’s not betrayal.

It’s just dinner.

Just—

She touched the napkin.

Her ring finger twitched.

Don’t think of rings.

Don’t think of ash.

He said we could wait.

He said stay home.

He said not today.

She said

Hawaii.

No weather warnings.

No second thoughts.

No life vests.

No—

wedding.

The wine list blurred.

Waves on white paper.

She didn’t drink anymore.

She did.

After.

What if he’s kind?

What if he’s dull?

What if he dies too—

and it’s her fault

again?

She practiced hello.

Practiced her laugh.

Practiced surviving.

Didn’t

practice this.

She almost left.

She almost stayed.

She almost

believed.

He’s late.

He’s not late.

He’s not—

Hi.

Sorry—traffic.

She blinked.

Breathed.

Smiled.

It’s okay.

I just got here.