Page 3 of Married to the Bratva

The rain hits me like icy needles the moment I hit the street, soaking through the thin fabric of my dress in seconds. The poor quality lace, already scratchy, now clings to my skin like a damp cobweb.

My bare arms break out in goosebumps as I clutch my handbag tightly, the strap slipping from my shoulder as I hurry down the street.

The wind blows hard, carrying the city’s scents—wet asphalt, car exhaust, the faint metallic tang of the storm.

I walk fast, my footsteps splashing through shallow puddles that ripple in the pale glow of flickering streetlights. Each step is a drumbeat, pounding out the same word over and over. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Six months and I had no idea. The two of them laughing at me the entire time.

The rain comes harder, stinging my cheeks and filling my shoes, but I don’t care.

I stumble to a stop under the awning of a boarded-up bookstore, the wood paneling warped from years of neglect. Thesign above the door creaks as the wind buffets it, faded letters barely legible:Mayhew’s Books – Since 1988.

I pull out my phone. Four missed calls from Evan. Two from Lila.

I ignore them. There’s only one person I want to speak to right now. My thumb hovers over Grandma’s name for a moment before I press the screen, my fingers trembling. Will she say:I told you so?

The line rings twice, each chime twisting my stomach tighter, until her voice comes through.

“Grandma,” I manage when she answers, my voice lost in sobs as I cry harder than I have in years. “You were right.”

“Sophie? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Her voice is warm, soft, and familiar. “What happened?”

I choke, my words jagged and raw. “He was with Lila. I walked in on them. I—” My voice cracks, and I press a hand to my mouth, the tears coming hot and fast now. “You were right. I’m such an idiot.”

She makes a soft, soothing sound, the way she used to when I’d scrape my knees as a kid. “Oh, honey. You’re not an idiot. You’re hurt, and you’re angry, but you’re not an idiot.”

“He promised me, Grandma,” I reply. “He said we’d build a future together. He’s had me working with him on this encryption program for the last three months. Twelve hour days to help him meet his deadline. Got me to show him all my tricks.” I let out a groan. “God, he was just using me for free work, wasn’t he?”

“This is what men do,” I finish bitterly, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “They cheat, they lie, they leave.”

“Not all men.”

“Then is it me, Grandma? Is there something wrong with me that means I only attract assholes?”

“Stop that,” she snaps, her voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Sophie. You hear me? What you had with Evan wasn’t love. It was… business. You said so yourself. You were marrying him to fund your business, not for love.”

Her words cut deep, too deep. I let out a harsh laugh. “I’m done with men. All of them can go to hell. Let’s move back to Rook’s Hollow together, you and me. How’s that sound?”

She sighs, a heavy, sorrowful sound that makes my chest ache. “I grew up there. It’s my dream to go back, not yours. Your dream is here in New York somewhere. You just haven’t found it yet.”

“Was my dream getting married to an asshole?”

“Come stay at mine for a while,” she says. “Your room’s still made up. Hell, maybe I can scrape together a loan to help you out. Then when you’re a millionaire tech genius, you can pay for me to move back to Rook’s Hollow. Get me a place big enough for you to come visit whenever you want. Bring the gorgeous lovely husband and the bonny wee baby with you.”

“What husband would that be, Grandma? The cheating one or the non existent one?”

“The right one is out there, trust me. Look, I’m being discharged in a couple of days. You’ve still got your key, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll see you at my place but if I turn up with a handsome doctor, he’s mine. Got it?”

I manage a small smile. “You’re welcome to him. I told you. I’m done with men.”

I hang up, stepping back into the rain, the cold slicing through me like a blade as I reach the corner of the block.

My dress drags heavy against my legs, the hem fraying as it catches on the pavement. Anywhere else, I might draw attentionbut this is New York. A woman in a wet wedding dress is nothing.

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