Jenny.
I adjusted the drinks on the table, the backyard lights shining and the chairs littered all around. I'd seen the post 'Tara weds Ethan' a day ago on our college group chat, and it had made my chest constrict. So when a gig came my way for bartending on the wedding, I quickly accepted it, realising that just maybe, this was a sign from the universe.
“Whiskey’s on the left, right?” Mike, the groom’s cousin, leaned over the table, his tie already loose.
“Yeah,” I said, pouring him a shot. “You look like you need it.”
Mike laughed, downing it. “Weddings, man. Everyone’s a mess by the end.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, my eyes flicking to the crowd. There she was—Tara, in a simple white dress, laughing with some aunty. Her hair was shorter now, but that smile still hit me like a
