Even though Chloe knew it was Claire up there on stage, she just couldn’t look away. Her fingers clenched into a tight fist, a nervous reflex that had her gripping Pax’s hand without realizing it. She had no idea what was coming next. Was Claire really going to drag a sword across her own neck? Chloe’s heart was pounding like crazy.
But Pax? He was as cool as a cucumber. His eyes weren’t even on the stage; they were on Chloe’s hand squeezing his so hard her knuckles turned white, making his palm throb. Still, he didn’t say a word.
Chloe’s eyes stayed glued to the stage. Claire didn’t slice her neck, though. Instead, she flung the sword away and let out a wild, almost hysterical laugh. Her dress whipped around as if she could barely keep her balance, swinging between bouts of manic laughter and heart-wrenching sobs. Her tiara and hairpin were all askew, and she ripped them off, hurling them across the stage. Jewels and pearls scattered everywhere.
Claire was shaking like a leaf about to fall from a tree, crying one moment and shouting at the heavens the next, until someone stepped into her line of sight. It was Connor, clearly in a rush, his coat undone to reveal a white sweater underneath—a little Christmas gift from Chloe. She’d won a voucher for a men’s clothing store at the mall and thoughtlessly picked out this sweater for her Trophy Boy. It turned out to be Connor’s favorite; he wore it every winter. And boy, did he look good in it, like some otherworldly being gracing the earth.
When Claire looked up, her blurry eyes spotted a figure—someone she’d dreamed of for what felt like forever. He was there, all dressed in white, looking like he’d stepped out of a dream.
"Colin… Is today your memorial? Are you back?"
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