My best friend called me right before she was supposed to sign her marriage license. “Gia, I’m doing it. I’m getting married today.” For a split second, I was ecstatic. The words of congratulation were already on the tip of my tongue when I glanced at the calendar on my desk. May 20th. A chill raced down my spine, turning my blood to ice. My phone felt heavy, vibrating with a silent scream. She wasn’t sharing good news. She was sending a flare. 1. Faye has always been a pragmatist. To her, "5/20" was just a string of digits, a commercialized trap for the sentimental that had nothing to do with real love. She used to joke about it during our late-night wine sessions. "If I ever mention 5/20 in a romantic context, Gia, call the cops. It’s the perfect code. Look at the numbers—0-5-2-0. If you scramble them, squint a little, it’s practically SOS." She was the most clear-headed woman I knew. There was no world where she would choose this day to tie the knot. “Faye, are you joking? You’re getting the license today?” I asked, my voice trembling as I grabbed my keys and sprinted toward the parking garage. Her voice was unnervingly steady. “Yes. I’m serious.” The calmer she sounded, the more my skin crawled. This wasn’t Faye. This was a hostage playing a part. “Which City Hall?” I demanded. “Westside.” Westside. That was the branch where I worked as a clerk, but today was my day off. She knew my schedule by heart. Picking my workplace on my day off wasn't a coincidence; it was a calculated breadcrumb. I frantically texted my colleague, Natalie, while swerving through traffic. Please, you have to stop a woman named Faye Matthew from registering. Don't let her sign those papers until I get there. Natalie’s reply came back instantly, confused: Wait, isn’t she your best friend? Isn't a wedding a good thing? It was too much to explain over text. Just stop her. Please. Natalie hesitated. Gia, I can’t just deny a license for no reason. That’s against every protocol we have. What am I supposed to say? Tell her the system is down! Tell her her ID is expired! Anything! Just don’t let that license become legal! I was shouting into my hands-free set. Natalie’s voice dropped an octave. Gia, is she your friend or your enemy? I didn’t answer. I slammed my foot on the accelerator, blowing through three red lights, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. When I finally skidded into the Westside parking lot and ran inside, Natalie met me at the door, looking breathless. “She’s not here, Gia! I’ve checked every window. Are you sure you didn't miss her? Maybe they already left?” No. Impossible. Faye lived for her social circle; if she were actually getting married, she would have posted a dozen stories by now. Her digital footprint was silent. I called her again, my hand shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone. No answer. “Maybe she went to another branch,” I whispered, more to myself than Natalie. “I have to find her.” “Gia, there are five different municipal offices in this city,” Natalie countered, grabbing my arm. “By the time you drive across town, she could have gotten married twice. Are you sure you heard her right?” I pulled up the last voice memo she’d sent me. In the background, a song was playing on the car radio—Faye’s favorite indie track by a local band called Eastbound Soul. A spark of intuition flared. “Eastside. She’s at the Eastside City Hall.” 2. I tore across the city toward the Eastside district. While driving, I tried Faye’s boyfriend, Barrett. He didn’t pick up either. A hollow pit formed in my stomach. Finally, I called Faye’s parents. “Hey, Mr. Matthew, it’s Gia. Did Faye mention she was getting married today?” Her dad sounded over the moon. “She did! She said today was the perfect day. A fresh start. She mentioned that once they have the license, they can finally pull the trigger on that house in the suburbs—use their combined credit for the down payment.” I felt sick. The housing market had been tanking lately. Faye had told me just weeks ago that she was holding off on buying anything for at least two years. She and Barrett were supposed to stay in his small apartment to save money. Faye had been financially independent since college; she would never ask her parents to help with a down payment unless something was catastrophically wrong. Mr. Matthew noticed my silence. “Gia? Is everything okay? You sound... off.” I didn't want to panic them yet. “I’m sure it’s fine, Mr. Matthew. Just... do me a favor? Don't wire her any money for the house just yet. There’s been some weird activity with her bank account, and I’m trying to help her clear it up.” He trusted me. “Of course, Gia. Just have her call me when she’s done, okay? I can’t seem to get through to her.” I hung up, the guilt gnawing at me, and pushed the car even harder. The Eastside office was packed. When I finally burst through the doors, I was gasping for air, scanning the sea of happy couples for a flash of Faye’s dark hair. I waded through the crowd, ignored the dirty looks, and rushed the counter. “I’m Gia Thorne, I work at the Westside branch,” I told the clerk, flashing my ID badge. “I need you to paged someone. It’s an emergency.” Faye’s name echoed through the high-ceilinged lobby, repeated three times. I prayed to see her wave a hand, to see her familiar smile, even if she was mad at me for ruining her "big day." Nothing. The clerk checked the appointments. “I don’t have a Faye Matthew or a Barrett Raymond on the schedule for today. You sure you're at the right place?” Had I misread the sign? Was the song just a song? The lobby was a blur of white dresses and cheap suits. I slumped toward a row of plastic chairs, my strength failing me. I was losing her. Just as I was about to give up, a voice cut through the noise behind me. “Faye Matthew! Ma'am, you dropped your ID!” 3. I spun around so fast I nearly tripped. A woman was reaching for the ID. She was short, blonde, and looked nothing like Faye. At the service window, an argument was brewing. “Ma’am, you can’t register for a marriage license alone. Both parties must be present with valid identification.” I wasn't paying attention to the drama. I was dialing Faye again, my eyes fixed on the short woman. “Can you just hold our spot? My husband is parking the car, he’ll be here in a second. Please,” the woman begged the clerk. It was a common enough scene in my line of work. People thought they could shortcut the system, and they usually got belligerent when told no. Then the clerk spoke: “Names on the application... Faye Matthew and Barrett Raymond.” My heart stopped. I gripped my phone until my knuckles turned white. “Honey! Over here!” the woman called out. Barrett Raymond came jogging through the front doors. He didn't see me at first. He went straight to the blonde woman, sliding an arm around her waist. My brain was a storm of static. Why was Barrett here with another woman? Why was she using Faye’s name? Where the hell was Faye? I couldn’t wait another second. I marched over and grabbed Barrett’s wrist just as he was handing his ID to the clerk. “Barrett. Where is Faye?” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. The smug smile on his face vanished. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Gia? What are you doing here? Natalie said you were off today.” He knew I was off. He’d checked. “This is the Eastside branch, Barrett. My territory or not, I know how this works. Who is this woman, and why is she using my best friend’s identity?” Barrett tried to pull me aside, his eyes darting around the room. “Gia, keep your voice down. Faye is... she’s busy. Look, the lines are crazy today, and Faye had a massive project at work. I just hired this girl to hold our place in line.” I stared at him, unimpressed. “Holding a place is one thing. Representing herself as the bride at the window is another. You can’t get married without Faye being physically here, Barrett. You know that.” “Don’t be like that,” he whispered, leaning in. “It was Faye’s idea. This girl looks enough like her—once they’re wearing masks or if the clerk doesn't look too closely at the photo... we just wanted the date. Faye is obsessed with 5/20.” Lie. Faye hated 5/20. “You expect me to believe that?” Barrett pulled out his phone, scrolling to a chat. He played a voice memo. It was Faye’s voice, clear as day. “Barrett, I’m stuck at the office. This merger is killing me. If you can find someone to stand in for the paperwork so we don't lose the date, just do it. I’ll sign whatever I need to later.” He looked at me with faux-earnestness. “Do you want me to call her? You can talk to her yourself.” He was so confident. So bold. For a second, I actually doubted myself. “I told her we should just wait,” Barrett sighed, playing the frustrated fiancé. “But she insisted. She said 5/20 is the most important day of her life.” I didn't let go of his arm. “So, are you two still doing the honeymoon? The big reception at the Grand Regency?” I watched him closely. The Grand Regency was the most expensive hotel in the city. Faye hated traditional weddings; she thought they were a waste of money. Last Friday, she told me she wanted to elope in the mountains. Barrett beamed. “Of course! Only the best for my Faye.” Liar. He looked at his watch, feigning panic. “Look, I gotta get this done or Faye’s gonna kill me. She’s been so stressed lately.” I tightened my grip on his sleeve. “Barrett, you aren’t signing anything today.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Because I’m calling the police.” 4. “Gia, have you lost your mind?” Barrett let out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Calling the cops? For what? A clerical shortcut?” I forced him into a nearby chair, using my full weight to keep him there. I spent four days a week at the gym lifting twice his weight; he wasn't going anywhere. “Sit. You can explain your 'shortcut' to the officers.” He struggled for a moment, then went limp, shifting into a pathetic, pleading tone. “Gia, come on. I know it’s a little shady, but we’re in love. We just wanted the anniversary!” “Using a stranger to impersonate your fiancée to obtain a legal document is fraud, Barrett. It’s a felony.” My voice was loud enough now that the entire lobby went silent. Heads turned. The blonde woman Barrett had hired didn't wait around; she dropped Faye’s ID on the floor and bolted for the exit. “Hey! I'm out! Keep the fifty bucks!” she yelled over her shoulder before being intercepted by the security guard at the door. Barrett turned on me, his face contorting with rage. “Gia, what is wrong with you?” “Where. Is. Faye?” I demanded. “She’s at work!” “I called her office, Barrett! They said she took the whole week off!” I was vibrating with fury. “I am asking you one last time. Where is she?” The crowd began to murmur. “Is he trying to forge a marriage license?” “That’s insane. Who does that?” “Maybe he’s forcing her into it.” I turned to the hired woman, who was being held by security. “This is a crime. You want to go to jail for this guy?” The woman started shaking, her eyes welled with tears. “I didn't know! He found me on Craigslist! Said he just needed someone to sign a paper because his wife was sick. He gave me fifty bucks and promised three thousand once the license was issued!” I pulled out my phone and recorded her confession. Barrett let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Gia, why do you have to dig? Why do you have to ruin everything? I told you, Faye told me to do this.” “Then bring her here. Let her tell me herself.” Barrett exploded. “She can’t come, Gia! Are you happy now? She can't be here!” “Why? If she’s so desperate to get married today, why isn't she here? Face-time her right now.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes darkening. “I can’t. She’s... she’s unavailable.” “Fine. Then the police will find her.” I started dialing 911. Barrett lunged, snatching the phone out of my hand. He stepped into my personal space, his breath smelling of stale coffee and desperation. “She’s not here because she’s pregnant, Gia!” he hissed. “She’s having complications. Potential miscarriage. She’s on strict bed rest. Are you satisfied? Do you want to ruin her health too?” I froze. Around us, the mood shifted instantly. The crowd’s judgment turned on me. I could feel their eyes—heavy with disdain. “What kind of 'best friend' is she?” someone whispered. “Talk about a toxic friendship. Let the man get his license.” “She works for the city? She should be fired for harassing people like this.” Barrett pulled a crumpled medical report from his pocket. It had Faye’s name on it. It stated she was four weeks pregnant with signs of threatened abortion. “She didn't want anyone to know,” he said, his voice cracking as he wiped a fake tear. “She was scared. Do you want the whole world to know her private business? Is that what you want, Gia?” He looked at the crowd, playing the victim. “I get it. Gia’s single. She’s cynical about marriage. I understand being jealous of your friend’s happiness, but to go this far to stop us?” The bystanders pulled out their phones, filming me. The flashes were blinding. They threatened to report me to the city council, to have me sacked. Barrett even had the audacity to play the "bigger man," telling the crowd not to be too hard on me. “Faye still wanted to toss you the bouquet, Gia. Even after everything.” The mention of the bouquet hit me like a physical blow. He was wrong. He was so, so wrong. I’m severely allergic to lilies and roses. Faye had known that since we were ten. She’d told me a thousand times that if she ever had a wedding, she’d have a "succulent bouquet" just so I could stand next to her. She would never toss me a bouquet of flowers. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my work pager, showing the screen to the security guard. I had already sent a silent emergency alert to the local precinct. “Eastside City Hall,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos. “Reporting a kidnapping and domestic imprisonment.” The police sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder by the second. Barrett turned toward the door, his face pale. Then, his expression transformed into one of pure, joyful relief. “Faye! Honey, what are you doing here?” 5. It was her. Faye walked through the glass doors, looking like a shadow of herself. My heart lurched. She was alive. I pushed past Barrett and ran toward her. “Faye! Oh my god, are you okay?” She walked right past me. She was thin. Her collarbones poked out from her dress, and her skin had a sickly, sallow cast. How had she lost so much weight in a month? I reached out to steady her. “Faye, why haven’t you been picking up? I was so worried.” She flinched away from my touch, her eyes cold and distant. “My phone died,” she said flatly. Barrett shoved his way between us, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. “Officers, thank god. I told this woman my fiancée wasn't feeling well, but Gia forced her to come down here!” He looked at me with pure venom. I didn't care. I looked at Faye, searching for the girl I knew. “Faye, look at me. Did you really ask him to hire an impostor to sign your marriage license?” Faye snapped. “Yes! Why can’t you just stay out of my business, Gia?” I recoiled as if she’d slapped me. She had never raised her voice at me in fifteen years. “I... I wasn't trying to interfere. I was scared for you.” Faye let out a harsh, jagged laugh. “Don’t bother. I have my husband. That’s all I need.” The police took our statements. Since Faye was there and claiming everything was fine, they ruled it a domestic dispute. They gave us a warning about "public resources" and prepared to leave. Barrett began leading her away. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you home.” He glanced back at me. “Gia, stay away from us until you get your head checked.” The words died in my throat. I watched them walk away, feeling like I had failed her. But then, the clerk at the window called out, “Wait! Since the bride is here now, we have an opening. We can process your license right now if you want to skip the line.” Barrett hesitated, playing it cool. “Oh, I don't know. We don't want to cause more trouble.” The crowd, now fully on his side, started cheering. “Go ahead! Do it! Don’t let the hater win!” They parted like the Red Sea, ushering them toward the desk. Barrett gripped Faye’s arm—harder than he needed to, I noticed. “If you still want to be friends, Gia, you’ll walk away right now.” I stood there, paralyzed by doubt. Maybe I was being crazy. Maybe they were just a messy, complicated couple and I was the overstepping friend. Then, Faye reached behind her back, where Barrett couldn't see. She made a series of quick hand gestures. It was a game we played as kids. Rock. Paper. Scissors. My blood turned to fire. I knew that sequence. It wasn't just a game. I lunged forward, screaming at the top of my lungs: “Stop! Do not sign that paper!”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "454706", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel