tranquil introduction to coastal living—a stark contrast to the emotional turbulence I’d left behind.
I’d driven nearly ten hours the previous day, stopping in Richmond only long enough to sleep before continuing south.
The steady rhythm of highway travel had provided unexpected therapy, each mile increasing the distance—not just geographically, but emotionally—from the life I was leaving.
Over breakfast on the hotel’s riverside terrace, I checked my phone for the first time since yesterday afternoon.
Twenty-three missed calls. Twelve from Amber. Five from unknown numbers—likely wedding guests still seeking explanations.
