WEDDING PLANNING

ANNA

I walk into the wedding planner's office with a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. Damien is already there, sitting stiffly in one of the plush chairs, his jaw set in a hard line. He barely glances up when I enter, his focus fixed on the wedding planner’s notes spread out on the table.

“Glad you could finally make it,” he says, his tone clipped. The wedding planner, a petite woman with perfectly coiffed hair and a bright smile, looks up at me with a warm greeting, but I can barely muster a nod in return.

I take a seat beside Damien, the tension between us palpable. My hands tremble as I reach for the glass of water in front of me, trying to steady my nerves. The planner starts going over the agenda, her voice chirpy and professional, but all I can hear is the echo of Damien's harsh words from our phone call.

“We’ve got a lot to cover today,” the planner says, flipping through her notes. “First, let’s finalize the guest list. We need to make sure everyone important is includ