I Was the Bride They Voted Out Chapter 10

I Was the Bride They Voted Out Chapter 10

I finally looked up at him.

In just a few days, he’d lost weight.

There was a time when seeing him like this would’ve broken me.

If he frowned, I would immediately wonder whether I’d done something wrong.

But now, he just feels like a stranger to me.

“Ryan,” I said quietly.

“Do you remember the result of the vote?”

His face went pale.

“Claire won by a landslide.”

“You all made your choice once already.”

Tears slipped down his face.

“That doesn’t count.”

“I never really wanted to let you go. I just thought you’d never leave.”

“You don’t have a family. You always needed me.”

I laughed a little.

My chest still hurt-but not because of him anymore.

“That’s why you all could treat me like that.”

“Because you thought I had nowhere else to go.”

Ryan held out the box.

“Nina. Come home.”

Home.

The word made my fingers tremble.

After I lost my parents at fourteen, I’d given that word too much weight.

So much that whenever someone offered me a little warmth, I mistook it for a destination.

So much that when Ryan said, “My home is your home”, I waited for fifteen

years.

But I finally learned-borrowed roofs cave in when the wind gets strong enough.

I didn’t take the box.

“I’ve already scanned everything inside it.”

“You can keep the originals.”

Ryan froze.

I looked at him, every word clear.

“Think of it as a reminder.”

“There was once a girl named Nina Bennett who had no parents, no family, and still truly believed all of you were her family.”

His shoulders shook violently.

The boarding announcement sounded again.

Emily pushed my wheelchair forward.

Suddenly, Ryan dropped to his knees.

Gasps rippled around us.

“Nina. Please don’t leave me.”

“I have no one else.”

“I only have you.”

The words were painfully familiar.

Every time his business failed, every time he was drunk, every time he broke-he’d hold me and

say the same thing.

I only have you.

So I stayed, every time.

Cleaned up his messes. Carried him through his lows. Made myself a bridge.

But bridges break.

I looked back one last time.

“Ryan.”

“You don’t only have me.”

“You still have the life they voted for you.”

The gate opened.

As my wheelchair rolled through, I heard him scream my name behind me.

I didn’t look back.

When the train started, rain slid backward down the windows.

The buildings, bridges, streetlights of this city fell behind.

My phone vibrated.

The Ashford Project group chat had a new message from Director Harrison.

[Welcome, Nina.]

I stared at those words. My eyes burned.

This time, no one voted for me.

No one decided who I should lose to.

I pressed my forehead to the window.

Through the clouds ahead, light was breaking.

I knew I was finally on my way

home.

My own home.

The End