When the Wheat Ripens
Language: en
At seventeen, Blaine and I discovered we were living inside a sappy romance novel. He was the hero; I was just an extra. Blaine, furious, tore the book to shreds. “I don’t care about being that hero, and I certainly won’t fall for anyone else!” he declared to me. At twenty-two, just as the book had foretold, I was set to leave the country. Blaine ran his fingers through my hair, a promise in his voice. “When you come back, we’ll get married.” At twenty-seven, I returned. To attend Blaine’s wedding to the heroine.