Evelyn woke before sunrise, the faint dawn light seeping through the hotel room's heavy curtains. She blinked, disoriented, before the events of the previous night flooded back. Derrick lay beside her, his arm across her waist, breathing deeply. She gently lifted his arm, careful not to wake him, and slipped out of bed.

Her clothes lay neatly folded on the dresser. She didn't remember putting them there, but she was glad he had. She dressed silently, her heart pounding as she approached the door. She paused, seeing her car key on the table, and hesitated, glancing back at Derrick. He slept peacefully in the dim light.

She considered leaving a thank-you note but decided against it. Grabbing her key, she took a deep breath and quietly slipped out of the room. She hurried down the deserted hallway to the elevator and out of the building. The cool morning air hit her as she stepped outside. Relief washed over her as she spotted her car in the valet lot—slightly worse for wear, but intact.

As she got in, she froze. Her phone lay on the passenger seat, its screen glowing with missed notifications. Countless missed calls from her parents, Michael, and Sandra filled the screen. Evelyn's heart sank, but she didn't return any calls. Each number represented a conversation she wasn't ready for, a judgment she couldn't face.

With a clenched jaw, she tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, started the car, and drove off, the events of the previous day replaying in her mind. The drive home was a blur. When she arrived, the neighborhood was still quiet, but her house buzzed with activity. The decorations, flowers, and frantic energy felt like a punch to the gut. This wasn't her reality; it was a fantasy built on lies.

She parked and composed herself before getting out. As she approached the front door, it swung open, revealing her father, his face a mask of worry and fury. "Evelyn!" he roared. "Where the hell have you been?"

The accusation hung heavy. Evelyn stared at her father's contorted face, a cold emptiness settling in her stomach. Before she could respond, Michael and Sandra appeared, looking relieved and worried. Michael reached out, concern etched on his face. "Evelyn, thank goodness you're alright. Where were you? We were so worried."

Evelyn stepped back, avoiding his touch, her expression cold and distant. She walked past them into the house, where her stepmother waited.

"You could have answered your calls. You worried us all. You should shower," her stepmother said, her tone gentle but firm. "We need to get ready for the wedding."

"There will be no wedding," Evelyn announced, her voice steady and loud.

Stunned silence filled the room. Michael's face paled, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked.

"Exactly what I said," Evelyn replied, unwavering. "I am not marrying you, Michael."

Her father's face turned a shade of red Evelyn had never seen. "What do you mean you're not getting married? How can you spend the night before your wedding God-knows-where, come back smelling of cologne, and then say you're not getting married?"

Sandra stepped forward, concerned. "Evelyn, what's wrong? Are you having cold feet?"

Evelyn turned to her stepsister, seeing a stranger behind a mask of feigned sympathy. The betrayal echoed in her memory. How could she have been so blind? She felt a surge of anger and betrayal. (The internal monologue "How did I never realize what a calculating bitch you are?" is removed as it's an internal thought and disrupts the narrative flow)

Her father's voice broke through her thoughts, loud and angry. "You will go upstairs, get ready, and marry Michael, or you will cease to be a part of this family."

Evelyn's heart ached. It hurt that he cared more about the wedding than her well-being. She took a deep breath. "I am not getting married. It was my choice to get married, and now I no longer want to. You can do whatever you want, Dad."

Her father's face twisted with rage. "If you don't marry Michael today, you leave this house and never come back. I don't want to see your face again." Evelyn felt sadness but stood her ground.

"Fine. I will leave," she declared. She needed space from Michael and Sandra; she couldn't bear to face them.

The shock was palpable as she turned and walked upstairs. Her stepmother and Sandra hurried after her. Before they could reach her bedroom, she slammed and locked the door.

She packed a suitcase, her hands trembling slightly but her resolve firm. She gathered her passport and essentials, her movements mechanical. She took one last look around her room and headed downstairs.

Downstairs, her father's angry voice echoed, her stepmother trying to calm him, while Michael and Sandra whispered urgently. As she reached the bottom step, her father glared. "You really mean to leave?"

Evelyn nodded, her eyes meeting his. "Yes."

Without another word, she walked past them, out the front door, and into the uncertain future that awaited her.