We hold each other’s gaze for a moment. I hope my eyes convey what every bone in my body is screaming. It should’ve been you on the plane. You were supposed to die. You. Unremarkable. Insignificant. Forgettable. Country Bumpkin. Not my beautiful, sophisticated, math-wiz fiancée. Not the cunning, alluring Gracelynn Langston. The spectacular woman only I understood.
