Page 99 of Friend Me

My old dolls were going to the charity, as well. I hoped some little girl would love them as I had. I sent a wish into the box with them that their new owner would pretend the dolls were Malala Yousafzai or even Beyoncé and living for themselves, notlooking for a prince to marry.

When I got to my jewelry box, before I set it inside the moving crate, I reached behind my neck and unclasped my necklace. The pendant lay across my palm, the diamond chips winking in the lamplight.

I wouldn’t live her life. She’d gotten trapped in a marriage she didn’t want.

I wouldn’t live Dad’s life, either. He’d pined for a lost love that’d never existed.

I had to live my own life.

I was done with fairy tales. No more dreaming of a prince on a white horse. I didn’t need rescuing. I needed a lover who was also a friend. Who’d call me on my bullshit whenever I spiraled into romantic fantasy. Who supported me. Someone who needed my support, too.

If only I’d seen what was right in front of me instead of what I’d imagined, I wouldn’t be sitting alone, sifting through reminders of my own foolish decisions and missed opportunities.

I opened my jewelry box and dropped the pendant inside. I’d ruined everything, and there’d be no happily ever after for me.

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