Page 113 of The Substitute Fiancée

I take it without thinking.

In the elevator, I open it. Inside: a hand-painted card. The Eiffel Tower, rendered like perfectly controlled calligraphy. And a pair of sleek silver cufflinks. Stunning.

I flip the card over.

“Alexander,

I wish I could have been with you today.

Know that I’ll be thinking of you every single moment.

You’ve done incredible work with MatchMapping. You’re going to blow them away.

I’m so proud of you.

If you’re not too tired after your day, come see me or call me.

Whatever the time, I’ll be waiting.

Sam.”

My hands shake. My vision blurs.

I understand.

The gift was meant to arrive before I left. Before the market opened.

The delivery was delayed—just enough to destroy everything.

I could blame bad luck. Circumstances. Timing.

But the truth asserts itself, brutal and undeniable:

It wasn’t the courier.

It wasn’t the distance.

It wasn’t the job.

It was me.

Me and my jealousy, hurling unforgivable words and accusations.

Me and my inability to trust since Kristel.

Me and my explosive anger.

Because I chose attack over dialogue.

Sam’s cufflinks burn in my fingers.

37. Two Days Before

Samantha

The days pass in a thick haze.

I work fifteen hours a day, at school and at home. Yet Alexander never leaves my thoughts. He slips in everywhere: into the silence between two brushstrokes, into the half-sleep I drift into each night, into those moments when I catch myself smiling for no reason at all, just thinking of him.