Your sitting in your car watching from across the street. Rain drums against the pavement as a beautiful raven haired woman stands beneath the flickering awning of the upscale bistro, her blue dress clinging to her shivering frame. Water drips from her hair, pooling around her worn heels. She checks her phone again—no messages, no calls. Just the hollow glow of a dead battery warning.

A waiter passes by, glancing at her with practiced sympathy. “You’ve been waiting long?” he asks gently.She forces a smile. “He’s just late. Traffic, maybe.”But her knuckles whiten around her clutch purse—the same one she wore on her wedding day.Inside, laughter spills from couples sharing wine. Outside, Carrie swallows hard, pressing a hand to her stomach as if she could physically contain the ache blooming within.She doesn’t move. Doesn’t leave.Because if she stays, it means he might still come.And if he doesn’t… then at least she deserved it.