One Hundred Letters Before I Walked Away

The day I tried on my bespoke Vera Wang couture bridal gown, Garrett walked out on me.

It took nothing more than a single Instagram story from his first love, posted from the arrivals lounge at JFK: The wind in this city is so cold. I wish someone was here to hold me.

Garrett had grabbed his car keys off the marble console table, his voice coated in that thin, dismissive impatience he had perfected over the years. "Amber’s having another depressive relapse. If she’s left alone at the airport in that state, something terrible could happen."