Let The Years Be

Helen clutched the trophy, but her face was missing the spark of victory. She did not look like she wanted to celebrate, and she definitely was not about to hand it over to Chloe.

Instead, she bit her lip, her eyes wide and pleading as she spoke. "Chloe, the director told me to give you the trophy. It's such a big deal, and you're so awesome. I'm going to be super bold and ask you something. I've never won this award. Can I borrow the trophy for just a few days?"

Borrow?

Chloe had never heard anything so ridiculous. She raised an eyebrow and said with a fake smile, "If you know it's bold, then don't ask. If you want one so badly, go win one yourself."

With that, she reached out to take the trophy from Helen's embrace.

Chloe's frosty response left Helen flustered, looking like she was the victim of some great injustice. "Chloe, why are you being like this? I'm not taking it forever. I just want it at home to inspire me, is that so wrong?"

As Chloe went to grab it, Helen hugged the trophy even tighter, refusing to let go.

Their tug-of-war ended with a crash as the crystal trophy hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

Andrew and Stephen, who had just walked up, saw the disaster unfold. They dashed over and wrapped Helen in a protective hug.

"Helen!"

They circled her, faces etched with concern, checking her over for injuries.

Andrew lifted the hem of Helen's dress and saw a cut on her calf, bleeding from the glass.

His face turned to worry as he declared, "I'm taking you to the hospital now!"

He did not wait for her to agree, just scooped her up and carried her away.

Stephen's gaze was fixed on the glass shards scattered across the floor, his expression stormy. "Chloe, you've got it all, so why are you scraping with Helen over this?"

Scrap?

That word nearly made Chloe laugh, but not out of humor.

"That trophy is mine, my hard-earned prize after three grueling months. It's my glory. There she is, holding onto it with those puppy-dog eyes, and you accuse me of scrapping?"

Chloe's anger made her shake, her finger jabbing toward the broken glass, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chill air. "Now that she's gone and broken it, I expect an apology from Helen."

Chloe thought her explanation was crystal clear about who was in the right, but Stephen only got hotter under the collar, his voice booming.

"I thought this was about something that mattered. It's just a trophy. You can get a million of them. How does that stack up against Helen? You've hurt her, and I don't think she owes you an apology—you owe her one!"

With that, Stephen did not even wait for Chloe's response. He was off in a flash to tend to Helen.

Chloe stood there, the broken pieces a mirror of her own state, Stephen's words replaying in her head.

He actually expected her to say sorry to Helen. The idea of the injured party apologizing to the one who caused the harm was absurd.

'Stephen, you're quite the piece of work,' Chloe seethed inwardly.

A sharp pain suddenly gripped her heart, and then she felt it in her leg too. Looking down, she saw a long, jagged gash. With the flesh laid open, it looked more gruesome than Helen's injury.

Biting back the pain, Chloe cleaned up the mess before finally turning to deal with her own wound.

That night, Chloe's phone buzzed with a message from Felicia, who had sent over a slew of wedding dress designs.

[Pick your favorite], the message read.

Chloe skimmed the message once more before dialing Felicia's number.

They had barely started chatting when Felicia picked up on the weariness in Chloe's voice and could not resist asking what was wrong.

The day's unfairness flashed through Chloe's mind, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, but she dodged the question. "Mom, I should have everything wrapped up here in a week. How's the wedding planning coming along?"

Just then, Andrew and Stephen walked in.

Catching the tail end of Chloe's sentence, they both blurted out in sync.

"Wedding? What wedding?"