Na przyjęciu zaręczynowym mojej siostry, moja rodzina wyśmiewała mojego „fałszywego” narzeczonego. Milczałam, aż przyleciał prywatnym helikopterem, rozdał prezenty i nazwał mnie swoją uroczą żoną.

“That’s what people say when they failed at everything else.”

I excused myself and wandered to the edge of the garden, where the perfectly trimmed hedges gave way to a view of the marsh beyond. This house, this life, had never felt like home to me. I’d grown up here, sure, but I’d never belonged.

Olivia had always been the golden child, the one who made our parents proud. I’d been the strange one—the girl who brought home injured birds and spent hours reading about ocean ecosystems instead of socializing at country club events.

My phone buzzed.

10 minutes out. Can’t wait to see you.

I typed back quickly.

Warning: my family is awful. I’m sorry in advance.

I can handle awful. See you soon.

I smiled despite everything, tucking my phone away as my aunt Patricia approached. She was my mother’s younger sister, equally obsessed with appearances and social standing. She’d never married, which made her particularly vicious about other people’s relationships.

“Your mother told me about your imaginary boyfriend,” she said without preamble. “I have to say, Victoria, it’s a bit pathetic even for you.”

“He’s not imaginary, Aunt Patricia.”

“Then where is he? It’s been, what, an hour since the party started? Any real boyfriend would have made it by now.”

I didn’t bother explaining about traffic or work commitments. It wouldn’t matter. They’d made up their minds about me years ago, and nothing I said would change their perspective. I was the failure, the disappointment, the one who’d never measure up to Olivia’s achievements.

My father joined us, Bradley in tow. “Everything all right over here?”

“Just chatting with Victoria about her mysterious fiancé,” Patricia said with a knowing smile.

Bradley laughed. “Come on, Victoria. You can admit it. There’s no guy. It’s okay to be single. Some people just aren’t meant for relationships.”

The condescension in his voice made my jaw clench. Bradley had always treated me like a child, even though I was only two years younger than him. He was exactly the kind of man my family admired—wealthy, confident, and completely lacking in genuine warmth or empathy.

“He’s on his way,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Sure he is,” my father said. “Look, sweetheart, we’re not trying to be cruel. We’re just concerned. You’ve always been a bit different. And that’s fine. But you don’t need to make up stories to fit in.”

Different. That word had followed me my entire life. Different because I preferred books to parties. Different because I chose science over law or business. Different because I actually cared about making a difference instead of making money. Different because I didn’t see the value in their shallow, materialistic world.

“I’m not making anything up,” I said, my voice tight.

Olivia appeared at my father’s elbow, her expression one of exaggerated sympathy.

“Victoria, I know you wanted today to be about you too, but this is getting embarrassing. Can you please just admit there’s no fiancé so we can all move on?”

“Why do you care so much?” I shot back, surprising myself with my sudden anger. “Why does it matter to you if I’m dating someone or not?”

“Because you’re humiliating yourself,” Olivia said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “And by extension, you’re humiliating all of us. Do you know how many people have asked me why my sister is lying about having a boyfriend? It reflects poorly on our entire family.”

I stared at her, this beautiful, accomplished woman who had everything she could want, and realized she was jealous—not of what I had, but of the possibility that I might have found something she hadn’t: genuine connection with someone who valued me for who I was, not what I could do for them.

“He’ll be here in five minutes,” I said quietly. “And then you can all apologize.”

My mother laughed. “Oh, Victoria, you really committed to this, didn’t you? What happens when five minutes pass and no one shows up? What’s your excuse then?”

I checked my phone. Alexander had sent a new message.

Arriving now. Where should I land?

Land?

My stomach did a small flip. He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant. Could he?

Before I could respond, a sound cut through the ambient party noise—the distinctive thump-thump-thump of helicopter blades. Everyone in the garden fell silent, looking up as the sound grew louder.

My mother’s face went pale. “Is that a helicopter?”

“It’s probably just passing over,” my father said, but he sounded uncertain.

The helicopter appeared over the tree line, sleek and black, descending toward the open field adjacent to the property. The downdraft from the blades sent napkins and decorations flying, causing guests to scramble for cover.

Olivia shrieked as her carefully arranged centerpieces toppled.

I stood frozen, my heart pounding, as the helicopter touched down gracefully about fifty yards away. The blades began to slow, and through the tinted windows I could see Alexander’s familiar silhouette.

He was really here. He’d come in a helicopter.

“Victoria,” my mother said weakly. “Is that—”

“That’s my fiancé,” I said, and for the first time all day, I smiled.

The helicopter door opened, and Alexander emerged, looking impossibly handsome in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He carried a large gift box under one arm and waved to the crowd with his free hand, his smile warm and genuine. Even from a distance, I could see his dark hair was slightly windswept, his tanned skin a testament to the time he spent outdoors on various project sites.

He walked toward us with the easy confidence of someone comfortable in his own skin, completely unbothered by the stunned silence that had fallen over the party. Behind him, the helicopter pilot began powering down the aircraft, and I noticed another figure, a woman in professional attire, climbing out with several more wrapped packages.

“Victoria,” Alexander called out when he spotted me, his whole face lighting up.

He closed the distance between us in quick strides, set down the gift box, and pulled me into his arms, kissing me with a tenderness that made my knees weak.

“God, I missed you. Sorry I’m late, darling. Work ran longer than expected.”

When he pulled back, I was vaguely aware of my family gaping at us, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“You came in a helicopter.”