Chapter 9 - Looking Forward
Six months later, we hosted our first official housewarming party.
The weather was warm, the backyard was strung with fairy lights, and the air smelled of grilled steak and blooming jasmine. A few of the girls from college—the ones who had genuinely apologized and proven their remorse—came by. There was a brief moment of awkwardness when they first walked in, but seeing how completely happy, relaxed, and deeply in love Nate and I were quickly melted away the tension.
Sarah didn't come; she had moved across the country for a new job promotion, sending a polite, handwritten card wishing us well. I kept the card, appreciated the closure it represented, and pinned it to our kitchen corkboard alongside wedding photos that I could finally look at without a shadow of pain.
The centerpiece of those wedding photos was, ironically, the memory of the cake. During our housewarming dinner, a local baker friend of ours surprised us with a miniature replica of our original wedding cake—pure white with small, delicate gold flowers, completely untouched by buttercream fists.
When the dessert was brought out, Nate grabbed a small knife, cut a slice, and fed me a bite with a mischievous grin.
"Careful," he whispered teasingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No sudden movements near the frosting."
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I laughed out loud, grabbing a handful of whipped cream from the plate and gently smearing a tiny dot right on the tip of his nose.
The entire backyard erupted into warm, genuine laughter—not the cruel, mocking laughter of a toxic frenemy, but the bright, beautiful sound of people who loved us celebrating our real, unfiltered happiness.
