In our circle, Larry was famous for being completely obsessed with his fiancée. For me. He’d rejected a strategic marriage arranged by his family and spent three years showering me with affection. But at his bachelor party, just before our wedding, the girl he never got over asked him, “If I crashed your wedding, would you leave with me?” He looked at her, his voice deadly serious, and said, “Yes.” Biting back tears, I sent a text to my best friend, the heiress to a billion-dollar fortune. 【Can you get me out of here? As fast as possible.】 Seven minutes later, she arrived, her Bugatti screaming to a halt, the tires practically smoking. “I told you,” she fumed, “a girl with your looks and personality should be marrying into old money and living a life of luxury! My brother is gorgeous, my dad’s still a silver fox. Take your pick!” 1 With the wedding just around the corner, Larry’s childhood friends threw him a massive bachelor party. Everyone in his circle knew how devoted he was to me. If I wasn’t with him, he’d be home by ten, regardless of whether the party was still going. So this time, they made sure to invite me too. But the moment I walked in, something felt off. Everyone greeted me with big smiles, but they were shooting subtle, knowing glances at Larry. I couldn’t figure it out. After we were all seated, a girl with a sharp, short haircut hurried in. “Sorry, guys! The traffic was a nightmare.” She was tall and slender, her voice bright and confident. Beside me, Larry froze. It was the first time I had ever seen an expression on someone’s face that so perfectly mirrored a heart skipping a beat. The girl extended a hand to me, her smile wide. “You must be the bride-to-be! It’s great to meet you. I’m Joyce.” The name hit me like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made sense. This was Joyce. The one that got away. The girl Larry had been in love with for five years. The stories were legendary. Back then, Larry wasn’t the calm, steady man I knew. He had pursued her with a reckless passion, arranging thousands of roses on the lawn beneath her window and setting off a hundred meters of fireworks along a private beach, all for her. His entire youth had been a monument to his love for Joyce. But three years ago, she had left him behind without a second thought, following another guy to study abroad. That was when I met Larry. He’d walked toward me through the hazy, dim lights of a crowded bar. I’d only had half a glass of wine, but I felt drunk on his presence alone. I immediately started grilling my friends for information about him. When they finally pushed me in front of him, my tongue was tied in knots. “My name is Chloe,” I’d stammered. “And you are… Mr. Larry?” The table erupted in laughter. And for the first time in months, the permanent frown on Larry’s face smoothed into a genuine smile. After we got together, Larry poured all of his tenderness into our relationship. He memorized every single thing I loved and hated to eat. He insisted on picking me up from work himself, no matter how late I stayed. Every holiday, every anniversary, was marked by a thoughtful, perfect gift. He posted photos of me all over his social media and introduced me to every last one of his friends and family. Even his friends were jealous. “Someone else planted the tree, but Chloe gets to enjoy the shade,” they’d tease. “You really lucked out. Larry chased the most difficult girl in the world and came out of it with a master’s degree in relationships. Now you get to reap all the benefits.” Their words never bothered me. Because they always added that I was nothing like her, not in looks, not in personality. I wasn't a replacement. And more importantly, I could feel it. I knew Larry loved me. After three years of intense, passionate love, he had proposed. I thought our story was heading for its happy ending. But right then, reality delivered a crushing blow. 2 Joyce sat down beside me without any awkwardness, pulling a bottle of perfume from her purse and handing it to me. “A wedding gift,” she said, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “The scent is incredibly sophisticated. I’ve been wearing it for almost eight years and never gotten tired of it.” I had to admit, she was charming. Graceful, with an infectious personality. She’d even brought a gift for me, not for Larry. I accepted it with a thank you. Then she pulled out her phone. “Let’s connect on social media. If Larry ever gives you any trouble, you come straight to me. We may have grown up together, but I’m not on his side. I’ll always have your back.” Her declaration earned a round of applause from the table. “That’s our Joyce! Still the queen!” someone cheered. Joyce paused, then looked past me to Larry, who was sitting on my other side. “Hey, you. What’s your deal? It’s been three years. Cat got your tongue?” Around us, people kept drinking and eating, but their eyes were glued to the three of us, hungry for the drama they knew was coming. I could see the tips of Larry’s ears turning a deep shade of red. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. He just clutched his glass, attempting a joke. “It’s not that. We’ve just grown apart. I don’t know what to say.” Joyce laughed. “So it’s my fault for not keeping in touch?” She raised her glass to him. “Then let’s make sure we stay in touch from now on.” Larry glanced at me quickly before replying, “I’m under strict management these days. If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to go through an extra step: get approval from my fiancée first.” They both smiled, a silent truce passing between them as their glasses clinked. Everything was out in the open, no hidden meanings, no secrets. But for some reason, sitting between them, I felt a suffocating pressure in my chest. Maybe it was because after three years, I knew Larry’s body language like the back of my hand. And tonight, he was radiating pure, unadulterated nervousness. The night wore on with drinks, songs, and stupid party games. By the end, everyone was a little drunk. Larry lost a round of rock-paper-scissors to Joyce and chose “Truth.” Joyce, who had been the picture of grace all evening, suddenly let her mask slip. She tilted her head, her voice a playful, drunken purr. “If I crashed your wedding and asked you to leave with me, would you go?” The question detonated in the already rowdy atmosphere. The table erupted. “Oh, finally! Took you two all night to stop pretending!” “Now this is more like it!” “Come on, Larry! Answer the question! Would you go with her?” Larry’s eyes were bloodshot from the alcohol. He stared at Joyce, a storm of emotions swirling in his gaze. Then, with devastating earnestness, he said, “Yes.” The group exploded. “HOLY SHIT! I KNEW IT!” “CRASH THE WEDDING! CRASH THE WEDDING!” Their cheers drew the attention of the entire bar. I sat frozen between them, my breath catching in my throat, my hands starting to tremble. I had no idea how to handle this public humiliation. Using the excuse of needing the restroom, I fled. Fighting back tears, I texted my best friend, Zara. 【Can you get me out of here? As fast as possible.】 Her call came instantly. “What’s wrong? Did those assholes do something to you?” “No, just… don’t ask. Can you just come get me?” My voice was already cracking. Hearing the panic, Zara’s voice sharpened. “Stay put. I’m on my way. Ten minutes. No, seven!” “You don’t have to rush. Drive safe.” “Don’t tell me what to do!” 3 Seven minutes later, Zara’s Bugatti screeched up to the curb, a chariot of fire and fury. The moment I saw her, the dam broke, and my eyes filled with tears. She grabbed my hand, her voice tight with rage. “What the hell did you people do to her?! And Larry, are you dead? Can’t you see how upset she is?” Zara was the heiress to the Vance fortune, and she carried herself with an imperious aura that could silence a room. Her arrival immediately subdued the rowdy crowd. Then her gaze fell on Joyce, and her eyes turned to daggers. “Oh. So you’re here.” Joyce stood up and tried to put a comforting arm around me, her smile cloyingly sweet. “We were just playing a game. Don’t tell me you actually got upset? I can be a little blunt sometimes. It’s my first time hanging out with someone so… delicate. I guess I didn’t read the room right. My bad.” Zara yanked me behind her. “Don’t you touch her. And you’re not blunt, you’re just a bitch who plays dumb.” By now, Larry had sobered up a little. He rubbed his temples and stood. “Chloe’s tired. I should take her home.” Zara laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “I’m here now. Why would she need you? Go back to playing dead.” The others stood around awkwardly as Zara started gathering my things. She muttered under her breath as she stuffed my purse. “I told you. A girl with your looks and temperament should be marrying into an old-money family and living a pampered life. But no, you had to go and slum it with the nouveau riche. Their world is full of backstabbing and two-faced phonies. It’s no place for a sweet, genuine person like you.” Larry’s family was worth hundreds of millions. Calling them nouveau riche was a unique kind of insult, but coming from Zara Vance, no one dared to argue. After packing my bag, she spotted the elegantly wrapped perfume bottle inside. Without a word, she pulled it out and tossed it onto the floor. “What is this outdated junk? The nerve of some people, giving this as a gift.” The bottle rolled across the floor and came to a stop at Joyce’s feet. The smile was wiped clean from her face. Zara pulled me toward the door. Larry rushed after us, grabbing my arm. “Chloe, don’t be angry. It was the atmosphere, the drinks… She just threw that question at me, and my mind went blank.” I looked into his eyes, once so full of love, and felt all my strength drain away. “Are you trying to say it was just a reflex? That it came from your heart? That you truly want to be with her?” “Of course not! Chloe, it was a game. If I had said no, she would have been completely humiliated in front of all our friends.” “So to protect her pride, you were willing to grind mine into the dust?” “I gave her a polite answer,” he insisted. “I’m giving you a marriage.” I pulled my arm away, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Oh, so I’m the lucky one? Larry, we’ve been together for three years, and I never realized you were such a master at playing both sides.” Just then, Zara pulled the car around and laid on the horn. Larry tried to grab my arm again. “Let me take you home. We can talk on the way.” Zara scowled. “If you’ve got so much free time, why don’t you take that electric Bentley of yours and drive for Uber for a few hours? Maybe it’ll clear your head.” Larry froze. For the first time, his prized car had become a source of shame. I opened the passenger door and got in. I turned back to look at him one last time. “The wedding is off,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I think we both have some serious thinking to do.” 4 On the way home, I mindlessly scrolled through my social media feed and saw two new posts from Joyce. The first: 【She’s nothing like me. Not one bit. But don’t you think that just makes it all the more obvious?】 The second: 【If you spent the last three years trying to prove that I was wrong to leave you, then congratulations. You’ve succeeded.】 The emotions I’d been suppressing all night finally shattered. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I mourned the three years of genuine love I had poured into a lie. I had believed Larry’s meticulous, all-consuming devotion was born from love. I was wrong. It was all a performance for her. I was just a pawn in their high-stakes game of emotional manipulation. Zara was not the kind of girl who offered gentle reassurances. She was a problem solver. “Stop crying,” she said bluntly. “There are plenty of men in the world. Just get a new one. My brother is gorgeous, and my dad’s still a silver fox. Take your pick!” Her absurd offer made me laugh through my tears. “Zara, I feel so useless. Even now, I need you to fight my battles for me.” She patted my head gently. “Don’t be stupid. Everyone’s different. Our mom died when we were young, and the three of us who were left behind… we’re not exactly normal. We don’t know how to express love. I was a rebellious nightmare growing up. There aren’t many times I actually get to be useful. “But you,” she continued, her voice softening, “you’re a literal angel. Every day with you feels like a warm spring breeze. You’re the best doctor in the city, the only one who can give a shot without it hurting. When I was stuck in the hospital, if you hadn’t been there every day, patiently cheering me up, I never would have made it through.” Her words were a balm to my shattered self-esteem. “Seriously though,” she said, “are you really not going to consider marrying into my family?” She had said this many times before. I’d met Zara when she was hospitalized for an illness. The hospital director was officially her attending physician, and I was his assistant. But because I had a gentle bedside manner and gave painless injections, Zara threw her weight around and demanded I be made her primary doctor. We’d been inseparable ever since. I was already dating Larry at the time, a fact Zara lamented daily. “Why couldn’t I have gotten sick a few months earlier! You were still single then! I could have brought you home to be my sister-in-law!” The innocent bystander in these fantasies was Julian—Zara’s older brother, who had flown home from his studies abroad specifically to visit her. He had not been amused. Thanks to her relentless campaign, my relationship with Julian had started and remained at absolute zero. Whenever we crossed paths, I’d stare at the floor in embarrassment while he’d stare at the ceiling. We were masters of mutual avoidance. Recently, Julian had returned from abroad for good and had taken a position at my hospital. In the office right next to mine. The arrival of the brilliant, aloof, and devastatingly handsome doctor had sent the entire hospital into a frenzy. Nurses and doctors alike found excuses to walk past his office. The number of people calling in sick dropped dramatically. I, on the other hand, had started holding my bladder all day, terrified of running into him in the hallway. Seeing my silence, Zara’s eyes lit up. “You’re quiet. Does that mean you’re seriously considering it? So, who’s it gonna be? My brother or my dad?” My mouth twitched. “If those are my only two options, I’d rather take your dad.” Zara beamed. “Excellent! That’s what I was thinking too! He’s older, so he’ll die sooner. You’ll inherit everything, and we can spend our days hiring male models! My brother’s no good. He’s a health nut, works out all the time… I’m afraid you won’t outlive him.” “…”
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