Chapter 3: Roots of Heartbreak

Carter and I were brought together by his grandmother.

It was a family thing—small towns, old friendships. Grandma was always the glue, the one who saw possibilities where no one else did.

My mom was her old friend. When I was little, Mom often took me to visit her.

We’d sit on the porch, sipping sweet tea in the summer, talking about nothing and everything. Grandma always had a story to tell.

Grandma liked me from the start, always joking that I should be her granddaughter-in-law, and she’d make Carter play with me.

She’d wink at me, whispering, "Wouldn’t you like to marry a Hayes boy someday?" Carter would just roll his eyes and disappear into his room.

My mom wanted me to spend more time with him, try to cheer him up, but Carter was always polite and distant. Most of the time, we just sat quietly in the living room, each doing our own thing.

He’d read his books, I’d color or watch cartoons. Sometimes, we’d share a smile, but mostly, it was comfortable silence.

Truth is, as a kid, I liked that handsome, quiet older boy.

He had this air of mystery, always lost in thought. I’d sneak glances at him, hoping he’d notice me.

I thought he’d always be that cold, until he turned seventeen and met Morgan.

Suddenly, he was alive—laughing, sneaking out, getting into trouble. I barely recognized him.

They fell for each other hard and fast.

It was like watching a movie—two people drawn together, everyone else fading into the background.

Hard to believe—Carter, who was raised to be the perfect heir, actually got into fights and skipped class for her.

He started coming home with bruises, skipping family dinners. His parents were furious, but he didn’t care.

Carter’s dad tried to break them up, even threatening to send him away to boarding school.

There were shouting matches, slammed doors. The whole house felt tense, like a storm was always about to break.

But he just said, “Morgan is the light of my life. If it’s not her, I don’t want anyone.”

He was stubborn, almost reckless. I’d never seen him fight for anything like that before.

But Morgan’s family situation was a mess—her mom was a wealthy man’s mistress, and she was the secret daughter.

It was the kind of scandal people whispered about at country clubs. No one wanted to talk about it, but everyone knew.

There was no way the Hayes family would let her in.

They had a reputation to protect. Carter’s future was already mapped out.

So Grandma took matters into her own hands, gave Morgan a huge check, and sent her overseas to study. The deal: she had to break up with Carter.

I overheard the adults talking about it one night. Grandma was firm—"It’s for the best." I didn’t know what to think.

Morgan agreed, took the money, and left.

She didn’t look back. Carter was devastated.

Carter resented Grandma for it.

He stopped talking to her, barely came home. The light in his eyes faded.

He spiraled for half a year, until right before SATs, when he suddenly pulled himself together and started working hard.

It was like a switch flipped. He buried himself in books, stopped seeing friends. I tried to reach out, but he kept me at arm’s length.

But he was never as close to his family after that.

Something in him changed. He became colder, more distant. The old Carter was gone.

At twenty-eight, he finally agreed to give us a try.

It felt sudden, almost transactional. But I wanted to believe it was real.

So we started dating, got engaged, moved in together—it all seemed so natural.

Everyone said we were perfect together. I tried to believe them.

Now, he’s successful, running the Hayes family business, and with his old flame back from Europe, of course he’d pick things up again.

I should have seen it coming. Some loves never really die.

Tears streamed down my face.

They came in waves, hot and silent. I let myself feel it, just for a moment.

I touched the broken bracelet, then tossed it in the trash.

It landed with a dull thud. I didn’t look back.

If you don’t cut things off clean, you’ll just keep suffering.

Savannah always said, "Rip the band-aid off fast, babe. Don’t let it fester."

I took a deep breath, letting the pain wash over me. It was time to move on.