Chapter 9
Effie glanced at her phone. The message was from Suzan.
A frown creased Effie’s brow before she could stop herself.
She tapped open the chat. It was a photo.
The image showed a torn-up charm-shredded into jagged scraps.
Effie stared at the screen, her frown deepening. She knew this charm well. Two years ago, she’d made a pilgrimage to St. Mary’s Abbey herself to get it. Back then, she’d bought into the monastery’s legends, so determined to prove her devotion that she climbed all 999 steps to the summit, knelt at the altar, and prayed with fervor. She’d scraped her knees raw that day in the biting wind, but her heart had brimmed with hope.
She’d just wanted this charm to protect her beloved-to keep him healthy and safe.
Mitchell had found out and been moved almost to tears. He’d swung her around in a joyful hug: “Effie, I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Now the charm was nothing but a heap of torn paper, as ruined as their love.
Looking back, it felt like some sort of cruel joke.
Suzan’s next message blinked on screen, thick with mockery.
“Oh, sorry, Effie! Mitchell wanted me to stay safe and healthy, so he gave me this charm. You remember it, right? The one you worked so hard to get? Oops, I accidentally tore it up. Hope you don’t mind?”
“I do feel a little guilty… but Mitchell said it’s just a cheap old charm. If it’s ruined, who cares?”
Suzan was gloating. So long as Effie was hurting, Suzan was happy.
Effie stared at the shredded charm for a moment, then typed back: “You’re right- it’s just a mass-produced trinket, a dollar each. If you like them, I can send you a whole box. But you know, for people with a guilty conscience, even a lucky charm might not bring much luck.”
Suzan’s temper flared instantly. Was Effie taking a jab at her?
Damn it!
Just wait-she’d make Effie suffer. With Effie’s parents gone, she was like an orphan; if Suzan managed to steal her fiancé too, Effie might not even find the will to go on.
The thought made Suzan smile with satisfaction.
But Effie found herself strangely unmoved. In fact, she was starting to look forward to her new life.
She twisted the ring on her finger, her mind wandering. What was Lyman doing right now?
She barely knew him, yet they were getting married. Was she reckless? Maybe. But she didn’t regret it.
Without thinking, Effie opened Lyman’s chat window.
She clicked on his profile picture, surprised to see a photo of a cappuccino topped with intricate latte art. The delicate design was warm and inviting—so at odds with Lyman’s usually cool demeanor.
Did he like coffee art?
Something about the image felt oddly familiar, tugging at a distant memory, but she couldn’t quite place it.
As Effie was lost in thought, a new message popped up.
From Lyman.
“Are you still awake?”
Effie replied quickly: Just about to go to bed.
“Okay. Well, by the way, my parents really want to meet you.” His words landed like a bomb, making her heart pound.
She reminded herself: every bride has to meet the in-laws sometime. Forcing
herself to sound calm, she replied, “Sure, just tell me when.”
He seemed pleased. “Alright. Get some rest. Good night.”
“Good night!” Effie closed the chat, still feeling her pulse race.
Effie, you’re hopeless, she scolded herself.
This was all just a convenient arrangement-both she and Lyman were only doing this to appease their families.