I've always had a built-in radar for pick-me girls who hide behind the "one of the guys" act. You could say I'm a walking detector for them. The day my fiancé, Peter Johnson, brought his so-called girl best friend, Abby Smith, home, I sighed. "Fine. You two are the real deal. I'll sleep outside tonight. The bed is all yours." Peter stared at me and said, "Are you crazy? Abby is just my bro. I don't even see her as a girl." After we went inside, I took out a small notebook and started writing. Peter leaned over curiously. "What are you writing?" "I'm pre-writing how your girl best friend is about to throw herself at you." "Possibility one. Say she's hot and strip in front of you." "Possibility two. Accidentally spill water on your crotch and reach out to wipe it." "Possibility three..." He swore up and down that his friend didn't have a manipulative bone in her body and told me to stop assuming the worst. However, later, Abby suddenly screamed, splashed coffee onto his upper thigh, and reached for his pants. "Take them off, quick! We've been friends since childhood. Stop feeling awkward already. Let me see if it got burned. I can blow on it for you!" I calmly checked off "spill water on crotch" and shoved the notebook in front of Peter. "Congrats. Bullseye." Remembering what I said, Peter awkwardly clamped his legs together. "Look at you, overreacting again. She just wanted to help me. There's nothing between us. Put that notebook away. Don't let her see it." Abby still had her hand on Peter's belt and was smiling. "Kelly, you're not really mad, right?" "I've known Peter for over ten years. When we were kids, I even played with his little thing." "That's just how friends look out for each other." I ignored her and lowered my head to write a new prediction. Peter fastened his belt and frowned at me. "Kelly, is this really necessary? It's such a small thing. Do you have to make it such a big deal? We're just friends. Can't you be more generous?" Abby blinked at me with grievance. "Kelly, if you really mind, I won't touch him again." I ignored her and continued writing my new prediction. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, Peter snatched my notebook and slammed it onto the sofa without even looking. "Stop writing! Who are you acting like this?" "Abby is staying tonight. The guest room isn't ready. She'll sleep in the master bedroom. We'll take the second bedroom." I picked up the notebook and looked at him calmly. "Okay. Wait a moment." I checked off "taking the master bedroom." Peter saw the checkmark. His face turned livid. "When did you write that?" I closed the notebook. "When you brought her through the door." As soon as Abby heard that, her eyes reddened. She grabbed Peter's sleeve and started crying. "Peter, I told you that she can't tolerate me." She pretended to leave, but she moved slowly. She was clearly waiting for Peter to stop her. Sure enough, Peter grabbed her and turned to yell at me. "Kelly! Do you really have to drive her away like that?" "Abby has a waist problem. She can't sleep on a hard bed. The guest bedroom mattress is too hard. What's wrong with you putting up with it for a few days?" I looked at the man I was about to marry. For another woman, he was righteously driving his fiancé out of the bridal bedroom. I didn't argue. I didn't get angry. I nodded and walked toward the second bedroom with my notebook. Behind me came Abby's victorious laugh. "Peter, you're so good to me. I love you!" "Come on. Enough. Go shower. I'll come in later and scrub your back." After closing the door to the guest bedroom, I took out my phone and turned on the hidden camera's recording function. I had installed it before for theft prevention. I didn't expect it to be used for this. Sitting on the rock-hard bed, I opened my notebook and wrote down tonight's prediction.
Sure enough, at two in the morning, the guest bedroom door was slammed open. Abby rushed in crying, wearing only Peter's oversized white shirt. "Peter! That room doesn't smell like you. I can't sleep." She stepped straight past me and threw herself onto Peter, shrinking into his arms and trembling. Peter woke up groggily. He instinctively hugged her tighter and patted her back. "Don't worry. I got you. Just sleep..." I snapped on the bedside lamp. Under the harsh light, the scene was painfully glaring. Abby was straddling Peter's waist. Three buttons on her shirt were undone, exposing a large expanse of skin. One of Peter's hands was on her completely bare thigh. When the light came on, Abby screamed and buried her head in Peter's neck. "Kelly, I'm sorry. It was instinctive. This is how I used to sleep with Peter before. You won't mind, right?" Peter was fully awake now. He didn't push her away. Instead, he yanked the blanket up and wrapped her tightly, then stared at me defensively. "Kelly, what are you doing? You scared her!" I said nothing. With a blank expression, I pulled the notebook out from under my pillow. I checked off "pretends to be scared and crawls into Peter's bed," then held the notebook up in front of his face. "Congrats. Another hit." Peter's face turned dark red. The humiliation of being predicted made him snap. "Are you insane? Can you stop writing such stuff?" He shouted and hugged Abby in his arms even tighter. "We're innocent! She's just my bro! Stop being so jealous. Everything seems filthy to you!" Abby sobbed in his arms. She pretended to get up. The hem of her shirt lifted, and just as I expected, she was wearing nothing underneath. Peter reacted fast and pressed her back down. "Where are you going? It's thundering outside! You're sleeping here tonight!" I picked up my notebook and phone, threw off the blanket, and got out of bed. "Wish you a thunder-proof night. May you have kids early." I closed the door and left. Lying on the living-room sofa, I opened my phone and saved the footage I had just recorded. Then I wrote tomorrow's preset in my notebook.
I woke up early the next morning to laughter and teasing coming from the kitchen. Abby was wearing that loose shirt. She was pressed against Peter's back and holding his hands as she taught him how to fry eggs. "Peter, you're so stupid. Can't even flip an egg?" "Stop moving around. That tickles." They laughed and played around, just like newlyweds. I stood at the kitchen doorway, like an unnecessary intruder. When Abby saw me, she exaggeratedly exclaimed, "Kelly, you're up! Come taste Peter's loving fried egg." Peter adjusted his pajamas. "Go wash up. Don't just stand there." "Abby specifically told me to make one for you. Don't be ungrateful." I walked into the bathroom and saw my toothbrush thrown into the trash can. There were two toothbrushes in the cup. One was Peter's. The other was a brand-new pink one. The heads of the two toothbrushes leaned against each other, close and intimate. I carried the trash can out. "Explain." Abby stuck out her tongue and looked innocent. "Oh, sorry, Kelly. I was half asleep this morning. I thought it was my old toothbrush and tossed it without thinking." "That pink one is new. I bought it to match Peter's. Pretty, right?" Peter walked over with a plate and frowned impatiently. "It's just a lousy toothbrush. I'll transfer some money to you later. Go buy one yourself. Can you not pick a fight so early in the morning?" I took a deep breath and pulled out my notebook. I checked off "throw away my things." When Peter saw the notebook, he exploded. "Kelly! Are you done yet?" I held the notebook up for him to see. The next prediction was "feeding him personally." Peter sneered. "No way. I have hands and feet. Why would I let her feed me?" As soon as he finished speaking, Abby picked up a piece of egg. She blew on it and naturally brought it to Peter's mouth. "Peter, open up. This one's a bit burnt. Help me taste it and see if it's edible." Peter subconsciously opened his mouth and ate it. He chewed twice and suddenly froze. The air went dead silent. I calmly checked off "feeding him personally." "Good boy." Peter's face turned dark red. He couldn't swallow the egg, and he couldn't spit it out either. The humiliation of being predicted pushed him over the edge. "Kelly!" Abby seemed to react late. She dropped her chopsticks and burst into tears. "Kelly, why do you keep targeting me?" "I just fed Peter one bite of egg." "When we were kids, we fed each other every day. Nothing happened." "Why does it become a crime with you? Why do you have to target me?" She grabbed a fruit knife from the table and moved it toward her wrist. Peter was terrified. He snatched the knife away and pulled Abby tightly into his arms. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were full of disgust and hatred, as if I were some vicious woman beyond redemption. "Kelly, are you satisfied now?" "You really want to push her to death, don't you?" I looked at Peter in hysterics, and at Abby in his arms, smiling at me in victory. I nodded. "Fine. I'll go." When I dragged my suitcase out, Abby was sitting on Peter's lap and wiping sweat from his forehead. At the door, I stopped. I threw the notebook, packed full of notes, onto the coffee table. "Peter, this notebook is for you. Consider it a wedding gift." "There's one last prediction in it. You can see whether it's accurate." Peter picked it up with disdain and flipped to the last page. He snorted. "Crazy woman. Delusional!" He tossed the notebook into the trash and didn't look at me again. He turned back to comfort Abby. I sat in the cafe downstairs and watched the surveillance footage on my phone. Because I knew my predictions about pick-me girls would not be wrong.
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