Claire's hearing had suddenly cut off. All that remained was the faint ringing of the words she'd just heard. "Mary and I are getting married." Gray was still smiling happily at her, blathering on about their marriage plans. The ringing continued until there was no noise at all. All Claire could think of were the various times she and Gray had talked, the various ways they'd become closer. She touched the silver necklace Gray had made for her not very long ago.

Her eyes burned and her chest ached as she nodded at their gaping faces. She wanted to make them think she was at least paying attention to them. She cracked what she hoped was a winning smile, but from the uncertainty in the couples eyes she knew it'd turned out to be more of a grimace. She coughed awkwardly and tried to look away.

But Claire's eyes wandered his face instead; the strong outline of his face, the way his lips moved as he spoke. There was a smile there that could not be wiped off. And rightly so. Claire just wished it was because of herself and not because of Mary; but it was too late for that.

She hadn't been proactive enough. The stinging continued, and finally, she felt her eyes get moist. Mary noticed, and with the stabbing sadness she felt she heard her voice all too clearly.

"Gray, maybe now's not such a good time." She touched his chest and looked up at his face. Gray looked down at her and then back at Claire.

"Oh, um- we could send the rest of the details in the mail, if you'd like, Claire."

Claire whipped at her eyes hurriedly, cursing herself inwardly. "Was cutting some onion for breakfast, sorry," she said, though her kitchen was clearly untouched. She cleared her throat to prevent it from cracking as she spoke. "Continue please. Sit if you want; I'll go make some coffee."

They instead backed towards the door. "No, it's fine. We have to go tell others anyway." Claire stood awkwardly in the now too-empty space between her dining room table and her kitchen. She realized she should be walking them out and turned too quickly.

"If you insist," she said. "Congratulations, by the way." She hugged Mary and then held out a shaking hand to Gray. He took it in his own, squeezing it firmly.

"Thank you, Claire." Hearing her name from him usually made her want to squeal girlishly; but this time it only set a dead weight down into her stomach. She felt like puking. She squeezed his hand as strongly as she could manage, just to keep herself strong. She clenched her jaw and nodded.

Before she knew it, they were gone, and she was left staring at the worn wood of her front door. A sob forced its way up and out of her throat.

Before that moment she hadn't realized that what she felt for Gray was more than just a small crush. For some reason she would have expected him to realize how she felt. She ran her hands up and down her face, wiped off the tears, and stood.

She had a farm to take care of.

The depression weighed her down much more than the crops and ores Claire always carried. It took such a physical and mental effort to do anything anymore. Ever since she found out about them.

She touched the back of her front door, debating whether or not the animals and crops really needed to be tended to that day. She dreaded leaving the house and going into the light of day where she was exposed; the puffy red eyes, clenching fists, and baggy eyes. It was hard not to break down every so often and cry a bit. She could only hold her tears back for so long.

She went out and the first thing she noticed was her mailbox. She stared at it for a while, its bright red flag standing up. Her hand twitched towards it once. She walked up to it and slipped her hand inside, feeling the thick paper of the wedding invitation amongst the thin paper of bills and notices. She flinched backwards as though burned by a pot and clutched her hand close. She spit at the foot of the mailbox and ran the opposite way.

It wasn't fair. So many moments with him had led her to believe they would be closer than friends. Hadn't he felt it too? Hadn't it been romantic down in the mine together, digging ores out of the earth and sharing them?

Once again she reached towards her neck and clutched the necklace. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. No matter what she did, it would never be enough. Hell, she couldn't even keep a horse, how would she manage a man?

She avoided her home for the rest of the day. She stayed out 'till midnight, knowing it would be even harder to get up the next morning.

And with that she experienced the first spark of an imminent anger. She couldn't believe that she'd let herself get that depressed over a man. She should've been strong enough to move on; she should've been happy for Mary, who was undoubtedly her best friend in the village. In that moment she couldn't stand herself for being so selfish. She couldn't stand that she wanted to break them apart so badly, no matter how happy they were.

These thoughts brewed in her mind as she walked home. She rubbed her shoulders while trying to comfort herself. She stopped in front of the mailbox and pulled out all the envelopes. Inside she put it on her table and sat down.

Time passed all too quickly as she opened her bills and other assorted mail and read them. She sorted them all out neatly, ignoring the invitation. But of course, she had to look at it. She took hold of it and looked at the font.

"Nice choice, Mary," she said. Her voice sounded boring to herself. She would need to practice on giving her compliments. She peeled it open and pulled out the card. The sweet scent of herb perfume barely clung to it after spending a day in the murky mailbox.

It said all the normal things you would expect in English. Yet Claire was having a hard time reading it. She did it over and over but none of the information stuck. Whenever she read it the only thing that did stick was the title: You are inviting to the wedding of Gray and Mary.

No more tears came. She wouldn't let herself anymore. She set it down and stood, walking to her kitchen.

"No, you won't cry because of him anymore." She turned on the tap and began to wash her dishes. She needed to get her mind off of him. She scrubbed violently at the plate she'd used for salad. The tears fell anyway.

"You will not be sad because of them," she growled. Her hands shook with the anxiety of trying to hold it back. The dish slipped out of her hand and she dropped the plate, which shattered. She picked up another dish, and let it fall out of her hands, eyes trained on the wedding invitation. Then she put in a little force to dropping them. Before she knew it she was hurling the plates at the walls, yelling angry curses at Gray for lying to her, leaving her, not loving her.

She screamed at Mary for not understanding her feelings, for not seeing how obviously she loved Gray. They didn't deserve it, she knew. But she couldn't help but be angry. She knew it was her fault for never telling him, never giving a sign of liking him, but she felt obligated.

After all of her dishes were used up, she walked to her bed and fell there. She was asleep as soon as she hit the bed.