Chapter 3: Fireworks and Farewells

Two days later, the streets of Maple Heights bustled as always.

It was Saturday morning—the coffee shop was crowded, and the bakery next door had its usual line out the door. I went out to shop as usual, but was stopped on Main Street by Noah, who had just left city hall.

He pulled his pickup truck to the curb and hopped out in one smooth motion, as charming and handsome as ever.

Noah always had that All-American look—worn Carhartt jacket, faded jeans, that quick, easy smile—but today his brows were furrowed, and his voice was cold:

“I heard you asked for an engagement?”

“Rachel, are you really so impatient?”

His icy gaze stung my eyes. I turned my head slightly, avoiding his eyes, and spoke softly:

“Noah, rest assured—the engagement has nothing to do with you.”

His expression grew even colder, and he sneered:

“Not my business? After everything we’ve been through, you think I’d just let you walk off with someone else?”

His words landed heavy, echoing off the plate glass of the storefronts. "If I’d known you’d be so clingy, I wouldn’t have pulled you out of that car wreck."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to keep my voice steady:

“Noah, please don’t be angry. It truly isn’t—”

“Enough!”

He cut me off, irritation plain on his face. Suddenly, he climbed back into his truck, looking down at me from above:

“I’ll marry you, make you my wife, but as for anything else—don’t even think about it.”

With that, he glanced back at the black Lincoln town car behind him, shouted, “Let’s go,” and drove off.

The tires spat up loose gravel and a puff of dust, leaving me standing there on the sidewalk, coughing and brushing grit off my coat. Folks walking by glanced at me, then looked away, not wanting to get in the middle of Carter family drama.

As the Lincoln passed me, a pale hand lifted the curtain, revealing a familiar profile.

It was my half-sister.

She was sitting there, back straight, lips pressed in a secretive smile, her face catching the sunlight just so. I smiled bitterly and shook my head, turning to board my own Uber.

We were childhood sweethearts—how did it come to this?

He used to protect me more than anyone, always calling me “Rach,” and at family barbecues, if he didn’t see me, he would ask Grandma Carol where I was.

I could still picture the Fourth of July cookouts, fireflies flickering over the lawn, and Noah wandering around with a can of root beer, calling my name. When did it all change?

Maybe it started when he pulled me out of that car wreck.

He held me in panic, terrified something might happen to me.

But when he heard the mayor wanted to set us up, his face changed.

After that, whenever anyone mentioned our engagement, his expression darkened and he ignored me.

At first, I didn’t understand why.

Until, in my previous life, on the night my half-sister married Captain Andrew, Noah got drunk and stared at her portrait all night long.

Only then did I realize he had already given his heart to someone else—and that someone wasn’t me.

In my previous life, after Captain Andrew died, my half-sister was sent to take care of the family estate. The last time they saw each other, separated by their statuses, they could only gaze at each other from afar at a town hall banquet, unable to speak, their throats tight with emotion—such deep, unspoken feelings.

So in this life, I resolved to fulfill their wishes.