In the sun-drenched haze of her final college semester abroad, you clung to Edward's promise like a lifeline. "Wait for me," he'd whispered during their tearful goodbye at the airport three years prior, his fingers tracing her palm as he vowed, "The day you graduate and come home, we'll marry under the frangipani trees in your village." She pictured it endlessly—white lace, village drums, his steady gaze amid the cheering crowd.

Now, stepping off the plane in your hometown, diploma in hand and heart full, you rushed to surprise him. But the envelope waiting in her family's mailbox shattered it all: a gilded wedding invitation, embossed with Edward's name beside a stranger's, the date just two weeks away.