Page 3 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

G OLDEN LIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE AIRPLANE WINDOW.

B ELOW US, emerald mountains rise up from the turquoise sea.

Even from thirty-thousand feet up, the view is stunning.

I watch as the landscape grows more detailed with little winding roads and palm trees as we descend toward an airstrip along the shore.

Then there’s a rumbling beneath us as the wheels emerge and a shuddering jolt as we touch down.

I hear the pilot’s voice over the intercom, welcoming us to Kahului Airport, Maui.

The resort has sent someone to greet me.

A friendly man holding a sign with my name takes my luggage and directs me to an enormous black SUV.

As we drive along the coast, I can see the dramatic peaks of the neighboring islands set against the bright blue morning sky.

With the time difference, it’s only ten a.m. here, and I feel refreshed and energized as I roll down my window to the humid island air, trying to capture some footage of the scenery on my phone.

The road is curvy; palm trees bend and sway in the breeze.

After leaving the airport behind, we drive along the stunning Maui coast. The west side of the island has some of its most famous beaches, and a bunch of the big-name hotels line Wailea Beach to the south, but Halia Falls is on the east side, one of the more remote resorts on the island, surrounded by a national park and forest reserve.

At one point, the driver directs my attention away from the beaches to a waterfall cascading over the side of a mountain.

“This road is iconic,” he tells me. “One of the most wondrous drives you’ll ever experience. ”

I lean out the window and grab some more video for the Flowies feed. Forty minutes into the trip, and I’m already crushing this content.

The road slips away from the coastal views, in and out of rustic little towns, and then twists through miles of lush rainforest, crossing over narrow bridges and weaving between mountains.

I’ve never experienced anything like this rolling sea of greens.

It’s breathtaking, just as the driver promised.

Eventually we turn off the narrow road and wind through a secluded dirt pathway. As we crest the top of a hill, the ocean appears before us again, its clear green water breaking against a white sand beach. A small wooden sign welcomes us to Halia Falls Resort.

The car slows to a stop beside an estate nestled into the cliffside with plumeria shrubs lining the entrance, heavy with hot pink blossoms. The scents of fresh flowers and ocean air greet me as I step out of the car.

I take a deep breath, the warm breeze making me feel slightly more human after my long flight, and the dappled sparkling of the sun through palm trees giving everything a magical, slightly surreal look.

A beautiful woman who looks about my age, with light brown skin and a lemon-yellow flower tucked into her long, dark hair, welcomes me.

The two men beside her are both holding silver platters: one piled high with purple flowers, the other holding a lowball glass.

The woman grabs a handful of flowers, which tumbles down to reveal a lei.

“Aloha. Welcome to Halia Falls.” She walks toward me and places the lei over my head. “I’m Ash. I’ll be your personal concierge throughout your stay. I’m here to make your time with us unforgettable, so if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

She pulls a tablet from the inside pocket of her suit jacket and scrolls until she finds something on the screen. “I’ve got your info right here. Sybil Rain, right?”

I nod, still taking in the views from every direction, itching to snap photos of it all.

“A beautiful name. We have more than two hundred words for rain here in Hawaii,” she says.

“We see it as a blessing. And it always brings rainbows.” Then she turns toward the man behind her holding the drink tray.

Ice clinks as she plucks the glass from his platter.

“This is the hotel’s signature cocktail: a passion fruit mai tai.

Welcome to island time.” She winks, handing me the drink.

I lift the glass to her in a mock “cheers,” then take a sip. It’s tart and bright, the bitter bite of alcohol stinging my tongue before breaking open into sweetness. I let out an indecent groan. This drink tastes like vacation in a glass.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your room.” She nods to one of the men behind her, who takes my suitcase. “We’ll make sure your bag meets you there.”

The hotel’s even more beautiful once I’ve stepped inside.

The lobby, lined in creamy marble, has a view straight to the ocean.

The tableau is framed by potted palm trees that sway gently as a warm breeze blows through the open-air atrium.

I trail behind Ash, past an infinity pool lined with private cabanas and through an archway that leads us to an elevator bank.

When we reach the third floor, Ash leads me to a door at the end of the hallway. There’s a soft beep as she unlocks the door with a smile. “Welcome to your room.”

It’s easily the most stunning hotel room I’ve ever been in.

The walls are clad in a light blond wood that makes the space feel like it’s glowing from within.

There’s a king-size bed piled high with plush white pillows, its four posts draped in a gauzy fabric that flutters as the breeze wafts in through the open balcony doors.

I take a deep breath and inhale the scent I’m already beginning to associate with Halia Falls—fresh basil and mandarin orange—sweet, but with enough sharpness to give the impression of sophistication and finery.

Ash leaves, and my bag is delivered only a few moments later. A bellhop lifts my bright, lime-green BéIS roller from his cart, and I notice there’s a second bag—a navy Away suitcase—waiting to be delivered to its owner.

A shiver travels up my spine. Jamie had that bag.

Of course, thousands of people have that bag—a fact Jamie and I actually fought over when he bought his.

I said a suitcase should stand out from the crowd, be something that’s easy to spot at baggage claim.

“Says the woman whose luggage looks like a family of exotic parrots,” Jamie had responded.

For the record, he wasn’t wrong.

I tip the bellhop, and after he leaves, I’m alone.

For a brief moment, I feel a pang of sadness.

Probably from seeing that stupid suitcase.

If things had gone differently last year, I would have been here with Jamie, having a romantic honeymoon.

An image flashes before me of the two of us holding hands on this balcony, him turning to kiss me, laughing as we both stumble inside and fall onto the bed…

I quickly blink the fantasy away and remind myself that everything happens for a reason.

Flopping onto the gorgeous bed, I pull out my cell phone to check that today’s scheduled Flowies post has gone live. The reel at the top of the feed is a fast-motion sequence of me sorting through a mountain of clothes in my room back in LA. I hit the volume button and listen to the voice-over.

Have you felt the sudden urge to clean out your closet lately?

It might be because of the impending lunar eclipse.

This instinct to purge the clutter—both physical and emotional—from your life could be your subconscious preparing for the start of a new celestial cycle.

With the upcoming blood moon, it’s time to reflect deeply on what needs to go, release it, and never look back.

One thing we’re definitely ditching? Tampons and pads.

Check out the caption to learn more about how Flowies period undies are a healthy, comfortable, and sustainable alternative to other period products!

I can admit that Flowies has kind of taken over my life, but honestly, it’s been a much-needed distraction this past year. Throwing myself into brand aesthetics and content calendars and post queues has created this semblance of order and predictability that I’ve never really had before.

I click over to my personal account and impulsively snap a much less curated pic—a selfie of me holding up my passion fruit mai tai—and post it to my feed, tagging the location.

It took a while for me to come back online at all after the shame of my wedding debacle.

Before the Wedding-That-Never-Was, my account gave the impression of a body always in motion—streaks of windblown hair covering my smile, silly TikTok dance trends turned laugh-fests, reels shot shakily in one hand while biking down the crowded Venice boardwalk.

I scroll down further and a lump in my throat rises as I land on a picture of me kissing Jamie’s cheek outside of Wabi on Rose, fairy lights dangling behind us, casting our faces in shadow.

I never had it in me to totally scrub Jamie from my grid. Maybe I should get rid of these pictures. Make a clean break. Purge these relics of my past and fully embrace this new cycle of life.

I’ll bring it up with Gwendolyn in our next session. She’s my holistic feminist positivity coach (which is LA for therapist).

I scroll a little faster to get past anything from the Jamie Era of my life, which accidentally catapults me into the Sebastian Era.

Suddenly, my grid is full of pictures of beaches and mountaintops, hole-in-the-wall bars and indie rock concerts.

When the two of us were dating, we were always on an adventure or on our way to one.

For a long time, I thought he was my perfect partner.

The two of us just made sense : Syb and Seb, two knuckleheads who could be relied on for a good time, as long as you didn’t expect them to arrive on time.