Dialing a number with a calm precision that contrasted sharply with the chaos around us. “Yes, it’s Marcus,” he said into the phone. “We need you here. Now.”
The urgency in his voice was a lifeline, tethering me to the promise that this wasn’t the end of our story. I clung to his words, grounding myself in the rhythm of his voice, the warmth of his hand around mine. The world around me continued in a haze of frenzied motion, punctuated by the wail of sirens and the concerned murmurs of distant relatives.
Meanwhile, my mother stood rigid, her face a mask of disbelief and indignation, unable to fathom how the carefully curated event had spiraled into such disarray. Her gaze flitted from Marcus to me and back, seeking some semblance of control in a situation that had slipped beyond her grasp.
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