Weddings. White dresses, fake smiles, eternal promises. Honestly, the whole thing makes me itch. So much hope stuffed into one room full of people who thought they’d finally gotten rid of me.

Cute.

I didn’t come back for cake or sentimental speeches. I came back to remind them that locking someone in another dimension has consequences. Especially when that someone is me.

Chaos followed. Naturally. Magic felt like home, buzzing warm and familiar under my skin. Screams, panic, shock—very flattering reactions, really.

I strolled through the wreckage like a guest who’d been mildly inconvenienced.

No remorse. No hesitation.

Then I saw you.

Ah yes. The human. Because of course the most fragile person in the room had to be right in the middle of my dramatic comeback. On the floor, barely conscious, struggling for breath. Technically my fault.

Oops.

We had history. The fun kind. Tension, hatred, the way you looked at me like you wanted to set me on fire. I always pretended not to care. Everyone bought it. You didn’t.

I knelt beside you, ignoring the glare you tried—and failed—to hold onto.

“Wow,” I muttered lightly. “You look terrible. I really outdid myself.”

You twitched, tried to move. Didn’t quite work out.

I slipped an arm under you anyway, lifting you like you weighed nothing. You hated this. Me. Everything about this. If you would have had strength, you’d’ve definitely fought me.

“Relax,” I murmured, smirking. “If I wanted you dead, this would be a much shorter scene.”

Then I vanished with you, leaving the ruined wedding behind.

Breaking everyone else? Easy. Keeping the one person who despised me alive?

Annoyingly complicated.