Silas’s hand remained around mine until we reached the edge of the courthouse steps.

Only then did he let go.

Not abruptly. Not as though he had remembered himself and regretted touching me. He released my fingers slowly, giving me time to steady myself.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For the way today turned out.”

I looked at him.

The rain had stopped, but droplets still clung to the bare branches lining the courthouse parking lot. Beyond them, the Blue Ridge Mountains faded into a pale gray horizon.

“You didn’t choose any of this,” I said.

“Neither did you.”

His answer was so simple that I didn’t know how to respond.

Behind us, the courthouse doors opened. Marlene stepped outside first, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete. Brielle followed, still holding her phone, though she had stopped recording. My father came last.

He looked older than he had that morning.

For a moment, his eyes met mine.

There was something in them that unsettled me—not anger, exactly. It looked more like shame. But when Marlene glanced back at him, he lowered his gaze again.

“Tessa,” he said quietly.

I waited.

He seemed to search for the right words, then gave up.

“Call me when you get settled.”

Marlene let out a soft, humorless laugh.

“Oh, please. Don’t pretend this is some romantic beginning. She’ll be back before the week is over.”

Brielle raised her phone again.

“Should I record that prediction?”

“Put it away,” Silas said.

The calmness in his voice made her pause.

Marlene turned toward him. “You should be grateful, Mr. Rowe. My husband could have made this much more difficult.”

Silas said nothing.

“What?” she asked. “No clever answer?”

“I don’t think this is the place for one.”

His restraint seemed to irritate her more than anger would have.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Let’s be clear. This marriage exists because my stepdaughter needed a lesson, and because you were willing to provide one. Don’t confuse a courthouse signature with belonging in our family.”

I felt something tighten in my chest.

Silas’s face remained unreadable, but his fingers curled once at his side.

Then he looked at me instead of Marlene.

“Do you want to leave?”

The question cut through everything.

Not *Are you sure?* Not *Can you handle this?* Just whether I wanted to leave.

I nodded.

Silas opened the passenger door of an old green pickup parked near the curb. The truck was clean but worn, with a dent above the rear wheel and a dashboard that had clearly seen better years.

I climbed in.

Before he walked around to the driver’s side, I glanced back at my family.

My father stood beside Marlene, silent as ever.

Brielle was watching me through the screen of her phone.

I expected to feel humiliated.

Instead, I felt strangely empty.

As Silas started the engine, I realized I had left the only home I’d known without anyone asking if I wanted to say goodbye.

The drive toward the forest was quiet at first.

Asheville disappeared behind us, replaced by winding roads, stone walls, and trees in every shade of autumn. I watched the scenery through the window, trying to absorb the fact that I had become someone’s wife before I had learned how he took his coffee.