Chapter 6
The sun had long set by the time Julian returned to the apartment he had shared with Elena. The space felt entirely alien, stripped of the warmth and shared history that had supposedly defined their relationship for the past two years. Every corner reminded him of a lie. The framed photographs on the mantel, the art prints on the wall, even the minimalist furniture they had picked out together now felt like props from a play he had foolishly starred in.
He walked into the kitchen, the hardwood floors echoing in the empty apartment. On the counter sat two champagne flutes, still etched with their initials and the wedding date that would now live in infamy. Julian picked one up, stared at the engraved glass for a long moment, and then set it back down without a word. He didn’t feel anger anymore; he felt a profound, exhausting emptiness.
A soft knock at the front door broke the silence. Julian walked over and opened it to find Marcus standing in the hallway holding two takeout containers of Chinese food and a six-pack of local IPA. Without waiting for an invitation, Marcus pushed past him and headed straight for the kitchen.
"You shouldn't be here alone," Marcus said, setting the food on the island. "My place is open, or you could stay at my parents' guest house for a few days until the media circus dies down outside."
"The media is outside?" Julian asked, leaning against the counter.
"Oh, yeah. Local news vans, tabloids, Twitter influencers live-streaming from the lobby," Marcus groaned, opening a container of lo mein. "A bride left at the altar because of a cold-case hit-and-run? It’s front-page news across the state. Your face is everywhere, Julian. You’re trending on three different platforms."
Julian sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair. "I didn't do it for the attention. I just couldn't stand there and pretend everything was fine. Lily’s uncle, the one who sent me the letter, reached out to me this afternoon. He’s taking care of her tonight."
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"And what about Elena?" Marcus asked carefully, watching his friend's reaction. "She’s out on bail. Her defense attorney is already spinning it as a malicious smear campaign orchestrated by a bitter ex-fiancé."
"Let her spin it," Julian said coldly. "The police have the original accident report, the insurance transfer records, and eyewitness testimony from a mechanic who fixed her car bumper the morning after the accident. Her lawyer can try whatever he wants, but the truth is out of the box now. It’s not going back in."
