Chapter 43
forty-three
WREN
I’ve never been this nervous at an elimination ceremony before.
The dress is satin. Emerald green. Backless, with a slit that makes me feel powerful. I used to live in oversized sweaters and jeans that swallowed me whole.
But this? This is something else.
Tonight I walk into the room and meet every stare. I don’t just wear the dress. I wear everything I’ve fought for. Every inch of growth. I’m not in anyone’s shadow anymore.
I’m me. And I’m not afraid to take up space.
I am, however, insanely anxious about everything else.
My hands are shaking as I stand at the end of the lineup, trying to keep my breathing steady.
The rose garden looks beautiful tonight, all twinkling lights and dramatic shadows, but I can barely focus on any of it.
My stomach feels like it’s tied in knots.
There are only four of us left. Me, Daisy, Raven, and JacqLyn. Four women, three roses. One of us is going home tonight.
I don’t know why I suddenly feel cold all over. It’s probably nothing. Just nerves. Just cameras. Just… something.
It won’t be me. It can’t be me. Not after everything that’s happened between Ryan and me. Not after last week when he told me he was falling for me. Not after the way he kissed me yesterday during our one-on-one, soft and desperate like he was trying to memorize the taste of my mouth.
But standing here now, watching him pace back and forth with those three roses in his hands, I feel sick with uncertainty.
The cameras are rolling, capturing every micro-expression on our faces.
I can feel the lens focusing on me, zooming in on the way I’m biting my lip, the way my hands are clasped too tightly in front of me.
I try to relax my face into something more neutral, but it’s hard when my heart is beating so fast I’m surprised everyone can’t hear it.
“Ladies,” Rich says, stepping forward with that practiced TV host smile. “Tonight is one of the most important nights of this journey. Ryan has some difficult decisions to make.”
I glance at Ryan, hoping for some kind of reassurance, some sign that I don’t need to worry. He does smile at me, quick and soft. I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. He wouldn’t smile at me like that if he was about to send me home, right?
The first part of the ceremony is always the same. They make us watch video packages of each contestant’s relationship with Ryan, highlighting all the key moments and emotional beats. It’s supposed to build suspense, but mostly it just makes me want to scream.
I have to watch Daisy’s package first, full of their early connection and the way she made him laugh during their first one-on-one.
Then Raven’s, showing all their intense conversations and the obvious physical chemistry between them.
JacqLyn’s comes next, focusing on how she challenged him and pushed him out of his comfort zone.
When mine plays, I see our journey from the beginning.
The awkward first meeting where I was so nervous I could barely speak.
Our first real conversation during that group date where we talked about books and I realized he was nothing like I’d expected.
The moment during our overnight date when I finally told him I was scared of falling for him, and he said he was scared too.
Watching it all play out on the big screen makes my chest tight with emotion. We’ve come so far from those early days when I was convinced he’d send me home any minute. When I was so sure that someone like him could never really want someone like me.
But he does want me. I know he does. I can see it in every clip, the way he looks at me, the way he touches me like I’m something precious. The way he said my name when he told me he was falling for me.
I was sure. I let myself believe this was real.
So why do I still feel like I might throw up?
The video packages finally end, and Rich steps forward again. My throat is so tight I can barely swallow. “Ryan, you have one single rose to give out tonight. When you’re ready.”
Ryan picks up the first rose, and I hold my breath.
I look at Ryan, trying to read his expression, but his face is carefully neutral. Professional. He’s not giving anything away.
“Contestants, we need to take a quick break,” one of the producers calls out suddenly. “Technical difficulties.”
The cameras stop rolling. Immediately people swarm onto the set. Makeup artists appear with powder and lipstick for touch-ups. Someone hands me a bottle of water, which I drink gratefully even though my hands are still shaking.
“You okay?” Jennifer whispers as she fixes my lipstick. Jennifer’s been my makeup artist since day one, and she’s become something of a friend over the weeks.
“Just nervous,” I admit.
“Don’t be. You’ve got this.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Good luck.”
I watch as Ryan gets pulled aside by his producer, Rich. They disappear into the house. A minute later I see Elena and Marcus following them inside. The head producer and director don’t usually get involved unless something serious is happening.
I strain to hear what’s going on, but I’m too far away. All I can make out are raised voices. At one point I’m pretty sure I hear Ryan yelling, though I can’t make out the words.
“What’s happening?” I ask Hana, my producer, when she comes over to check on me.
But Hana’s not joking with me like she usually does. She won’t meet my eyes. Something’s off.
“Just some last-minute details,” she says. “You need to stay put, okay? We’ll be rolling again in a few minutes.”
I want to move closer to the house, to try to figure out what’s going on, but every time I take a step, someone redirects me back to my spot in the lineup. It’s like they’re deliberately keeping me away from whatever conversation is happening inside.
When Ryan finally emerges from the house, he looks furious. His jaw is clenched, his hands are in fists at his sides. There’s something in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Something dark and angry and hurt.
Elena follows him out, clearly trying to manage whatever damage control is needed. I see her mouth something to him, probably telling him to smile for the cameras, but he just stops frowning. He doesn’t actually smile.
“Okay, everyone back to places,” Marcus calls out. “We’re rolling in thirty seconds.”
I take my position next to JacqLyn, my heart hammering against my ribs. Something is wrong. Something has changed in the last few minutes, and I don’t know what it is.
The cameras start rolling again. Ryan picks up the white rose. His face is back to that careful neutral expression, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his grip on the stem is a little too tight.
“Tonight, I finally get to decide who I’m going to fall in love with,” he says, his voice steady but somehow hollow.
His words are stilted; I think if I had a moment to let them sink in, they wouldn’t make any sense.
But he keeps pushing forward. “As you know, this has been an incredibly difficult decision.”
He looks at me. For just a second, I see something flicker in his expression. Something that looks almost like an apology.
My stomach drops. What if…?
“JacqLyn,” he says.
The word hits me like a slap. I go completely still. Not frozen. Absent. Like my body checked out before my mind could catch up. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
But JacqLyn is moving forward, accepting the rose with tears in her eyes. Ryan is hugging her while the other women congratulate her. I’m still standing here in shock, trying to process what just happened.
I didn’t get the rose. Ryan didn’t choose me.
It’s happening again. Just like always. I let myself believe I was special. That I was chosen. And once again, I wasn’t.
“Wren,” Rich says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. “I’m sorry, but your journey ends here. Thank you for being part of this experience.”
I nod mechanically, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. My brain feels like it’s full of static. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I look at Ryan, waiting for him to say something, to explain what just happened. Waiting for him to tell me this is all some mistake, some terrible joke.
But he just looks back at me, his jaw still clenched, his eyes full of something that might be regret or pain or both. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even mouth an apology.
How can he look at me like that and not say anything? How can he just stand there while my world falls apart?
“I need to go pack,” I hear myself say. My voice sounds strange.
“Of course,” Rich says kindly. “Take all the time you need.”
I walk toward the house on unsteady legs, barely aware of the cameras following me. This must be great television, watching me fall apart in real time. The heartbroken contestant who thought she had it all figured out.
My room feels too small and too big at the same time. I sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, just trying to breathe, trying to make sense of what just happened.
Twenty minutes ago, I was sure Ryan was going to choose me. I was sure we had something real, something that went beyond the show and the cameras and all the artificial drama. I was sure he felt the same way about me that I feel about him.
But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.
I start throwing things into my suitcase, not caring if they’re folded properly or if I’m forgetting anything. I just want to get out of here. I want to go home and crawl into my own bed and pretend this never happened.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Wait for me.
That’s it. Just three words. No explanation, no signature, nothing.
I stare at the message, trying to figure out who it could be from. Ryan? But why wouldn’t he use his own phone? And why would he tell me to wait when he just chose someone else?
A stupid part of me wants to believe it means everything. That there’s a reason. A plan. A second chance waiting just around the corner. But the smarter part of me. The part that’s done waiting to be chosen. Wants to throw my phone out the window.
I wait for another message, some kind of clarification, but nothing comes. Just those three words hanging there, cryptic and meaningless.
I finish packing and drag my suitcase to the front door, where a producer is waiting to escort me to the limo. The same limo that brought me here all those weeks ago, full of hope and excitement and the crazy belief that maybe, just maybe, I might find something real.
“Ready?” the producer asks. I nod because I don’t trust my voice.
The ride home is a blur. I stare out the window at the city lights, trying not to think about Ryan, trying not to replay every moment between us and wonder where I went wrong.
But I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me tonight. The pain in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. He didn’t look like someone who had just made the choice he wanted to make. He looked like someone who had just done something that was killing him.
So why did he do it? Why did he choose JacqLyn when everything between us felt so real, so right?
My phone buzzes again. For a second my heart leaps, thinking it might be Ryan with an explanation. But it’s just Jay, asking how the ceremony went.
I can’t even begin to answer that question.
Instead, I turn my phone off and lean my head against the window. The tears come then, finally, hot and angry and full of all the hurt I’ve been trying to hold back.
I let myself cry for the boy who made me believe in fairy tales. For the girl who was stupid enough to think she deserved one.
By the time we reach the airport, my eyes are red and swollen, but I feel empty. Hollowed out. Like someone scooped out everything that mattered and left me with nothing but the shell of who I used to be.
The flight home is mercifully quiet. It’s late enough that most of the other passengers are sleeping, so no one bothers me as I stare out the window at the darkness below.
I keep thinking about that text. Wait for me. What does that even mean? Wait for what? Wait for him to change his mind? Wait for him to decide he made a mistake?
I’m not going to wait. I can’t. I’ve spent too much of my life waiting for other people to choose me, to see my worth, to decide I’m enough. I’m done waiting.
But even as I tell myself that, I know it’s not entirely true. Because despite everything that happened tonight, despite the humiliation and the heartbreak and the complete destruction of everything I thought I knew, there’s still a part of me that wants to believe that text means something.
There’s still a part of me that loves Ryan Haart, even though he just broke my heart on national television.
And maybe that’s the worst part of all. That even after everything, I still love him. Even after everything, I still want to believe there’s a reason.
But what if he just smashed my heart into a trillion tiny shards?