A Donna Unclaimed chapter 07

The call had barely connected when Rosa’s mother’s voice came through, already trembling with anger.

“What do you want?”

My chest tightened.

I still forced myself to ask, “Is Rosa okay today? At the restaurant?”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“Nothing’s wrong. Don’t call again.”

Then she hung up.

The dial tone echoed in my ear, dull and suffocating.

Unease crept into my chest.

I immediately called my own mother.

“Is Rosa okay?”

“She’s fine. Just a small cut on her forehead, already bandaged. Her fiancé came to pick her up. She’s staying at her wedding house now.”

Wedding house.

Those two words stabbed straight into me.

I said a few absent words before hanging up.

After that, everything accelerated like a fast-forwarded film.

My mother moved the wedding forward. She even arranged for Vivian and me to register our marriage early.

I tried to resist. But every time I passed Rosa’s house and saw that tightly shut door, something in me collapsed again.

What was I even resisting for?

Before the wedding, I tried to contact Rosa several times.

No response.

My messages sank without a trace.

On the final night before the wedding, I tried one last time. This time, I found out she had blocked me completely.

Phone. Messages. Social media. Everything.

So that was it.

Her fiancé mattered that much? So much that she couldn’t even keep me as a friend anymore?

Maybe that was better.

At least I could give up properly now. At least I could marry Vivian. At least I could become a father.

…

On the wedding day, everything felt like a blur.

I kept searching the venue for Rosa. But she didn’t come. Her mother didn’t come either.

The seats that should have belonged to Rosa’s family were filled by distant relatives and strangers.

My chest ached with a dull, spreading pain. Until the drinking toast after the ceremony.

When I reached my old classmates’ table and raised my glass, Rosa’s closest friend suddenly looked at me with open contempt.

“Griffin, one drink? That’s it?”

“At least three. For the dead girl you killed.”

The room went still.

One of the classmates beside her tugged her arm quickly, “Mia, stop it.”

But she shoved him away, “What, stop what? I’m sick of all of you pretending.”

Then she turned her glare toward my mother.

“And you. Don’t send me a wedding invitation if you’re going to pay me off before the wedding to keep my mouth shut.”

“So annoying.”

She grabbed her bag, pushed her chair back, and turned to leave.

Something inside me suddenly twisted violently.

A sharp, irrational panic rose in my chest.

I stopped her almost instinctively, “Mia… who died?”

She let out a cold laugh.

But as she laughed, tears slipped down her eyes.

“Who died?”

“Rosa. She’s fucking dead.”