When Hugo lost his phone, I tracked it down, but the woman who found it demanded proof. I entered my birthday, certain it would work. “Incorrect passcode.” She eyed me with suspicion. Assuming he’d changed it, I tried my fingerprint. Failed again. I stood frozen on the pavement. After five years together, every password, every setting, was tied to me. Growing impatient, the woman asked his emergency contact. “Me,” I whispered, naming myself. Last month, after I was stalked, Hugo had programmed every emergency shortcut to dial my number. Yet the woman only sneered, tucking the phone away. “You look decent, but you’re trying to scam me.” I snatched the phone back, pale with disbelief. She grabbed my wrist as it began to ring. Seeing the screen, she smirked. “See? The real owner’s calling.” I looked up to see my best friend Sherry holding her phone to her ear nearby. A flood of buried doubts finally found their answers. After we sent the lady away, Hugo rushed over to join us. Seeing my pale, rigid face, he grabbed my wrist. His voice carried a defensive chill. "What is wrong? Did that woman give you a hard time?" I ignored his question. I just held up his phone and asked with dead calm. "What is your passcode?" Hugo stiffened. His eyes instinctively darted toward Sherry. Then he let out an awkward, helpless laugh. "Aria, you’re misunderstanding." "We were playing Truth or Dare last time. I lost, so the dare was to change my emergency info to the person sitting next to me." "When did you two go out together?" "Start of the month." As if terrified I would overthink it, he quickly added, "You were so busy then. We didn't want to bother you." My fingers gave a violent twitch. What was I busy with? I was busy planning our wedding. And Hugo was afraid of bothering me. It was as if this marriage was a one woman show. Sherry grabbed Hugo’s arm, playfully scolding him to change his settings back. "I told you to change it! Why are you still using my info?" "I forgot. Didn't think it was a big deal." "How could you forget something like this!" The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, bickering back and forth. They looked so incredibly familiar, like a pair of longtime partners tackling a minor inconvenience together. And I was the inconvenience. I took a step closer. Hugo was in the middle of resetting his lock screen. His thumb hovered over the keypad, hesitating before punching in 0523. Sherry went dead silent. She shot a quick glance at me before elbowing him. "Wrong. 0523 is my dog's birthday!" "Aria’s birthday is June 7th." Hugo quickly erased the numbers and typed the right ones. He offered a careless, unapologetic chuckle. "We just celebrated Peanut's birthday. Guess it got mixed up in my head." My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. Five years together, and he remembered a dog's birthday. But not mine. My eyes stung, the rims turning hot and red. Hugo noticed, and a flash of pure irritation crossed his face. "It’s not a big deal, Aria. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill." "Why are you yelling at her!" Sherry stepped right in front of me, shielding me. With just that single sentence, Hugo instantly surrendered, as docile as a cat having its fur stroked the right way. My throat felt like swallowing broken glass. It hurt too much to force a single word out. I stayed completely silent, turned around, and got into the car. "Aria, what’s wrong?" Sherry leaned down to peer through the window, her eyes practically overflowing with worry. "I’m not feeling well. I’m heading back." "Then go home and get some rest. Sherry has wanted to see this movie for weeks, so I’m going to take her." Hugo’s voice was light, but every syllable pierced my eardrums like needles. He didn't ask where I hurt. He didn't offer to take me home. The only thing he cared about was Sherry’s feelings. "Okay. Have fun." I answered instantly. Hugo looked taken aback, freezing in place for a split second. I had always been territorial. I never allowed him to hang out alone with other girls, even if that girl was my best friend. Once upon a time, we would have had a screaming match over this, turning into two red eyed beasts refusing to yield an inch. But right now, I didn't spare him another word. I just drove away. On the way home, my mom called. "Sweetie, the groom’s suit just arrived at the boutique. Should your dad and I go with you to check it out?" Because Hugo was perpetually absent, my own father had been stepping in to try on the groom’s clothes. Enduring the bewildered, pitying stares of the boutique staff, I had held this charade together for three months. But all of it had become a pathetic joke. "No." "Mom, please cancel the wedding dress." There were a few seconds of heavy silence on the other end. It was as if she immediately understood. She didn't pry or ask why. She just asked softly if I had thought it through. I managed a weak smile. "I have." After hanging up, I drove straight to the clinic. My wrist was throbbing with a dull ache from the tug of war with the lady earlier. The doctor checked it over and diagnosed a soft tissue sprain. While waiting for the medicated patch, I scrolled through my feed. Sherry had just posted an update. Wow, so lucky today! Won a prize at the arcade with my bestie. Attached was a photo of two matching phone charms. A couples set. Hugo had happily attached his to his phone. In the mirror selfie, the two of them were grinning, the long charms dangling below their hands. He had even swapped out the phone case I bought him because it didn't match the charm. By the time my wrist was treated, a massive downpour had started outside. I tried to hail a ride app for half an hour, but the queue was hopeless. I texted my location to Hugo. Ten minutes later, he replied with a few brief words. Wait at the entrance. That wait lasted over two hours. I curled into myself, standing by the clinic doors. My pants were soaked through from the knees down. The rain had washed the adhesive right off my medicated patch. Hugo finally called. Through the speaker, Sherry’s laughter rang out like silver bells. "Aria, we brought Peanut to the groomers! I sent you a picture, look how cute he is." I opened the photo. Hugo and Sherry were pressed close together, holding a wet puppy, smiling brightly. The perfect picture of domestic bliss. Meanwhile, miles away, I looked like a drowned rat. My lips were purple from the cold. "Hugo, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?" The line went dead quiet for a second before his annoyed voice snapped back. "Aria, you are such a buzzkill. Sherry is just trying to share something fun with you." "Don't say that, Hugo. Can't you see Aria is upset?" Sherry quickly interrupted. "I’m just looking out for you, Sherry. If you let her act like this, she’s only going to bully you worse." "It's fine, really." The freezing rain lashed against my skin, but in that moment, I couldn't tell if my body or my heart was colder. I shivered violently, biting down on a sob as I asked. "Hugo. Tell me exactly how I am bullying her." The heavy rain distorted my voice, making Hugo think I was crying. He sounded completely exasperated. "Can you just drop the drama? Sherry is your best friend. Can you really not tolerate her?" I couldn't remember how many times he had picked a fight with me over Sherry. In college, he fought with me because I refused to help Sherry cheat on a final. After graduation, he fought with me because I didn't want Sherry tagging along on our anniversary trip. I even joked with him once that if we ever broke up, it would definitely be because of Sherry. He had laughed it off back then. I never expected it to be a prophecy. "Hugo, we're done." With that, I hung up. My phone instantly started ringing again. When I didn't answer, Sherry’s number popped up. They took turns calling, back to back. Their ringtones were identical. It was the ending theme of an anime Sherry loved. She had shared it with me once, swearing she would use it as a matching ringtone with her future soulmate. She had been single for so long back then, and I didn't want her to feel left out. I had even joked, "If no guy is lucky enough to appreciate it, I’ll match it with you." She had just smiled, saying nothing. I hadn't understood that smile back then. But I understood it now. She was laughing at me. Laughing at how utterly blind I was while she stole my life. A tidal wave of absolute humiliation crashed over me. I clamped a hand over my mouth, stumbled over to a tree, and violently threw up. Bile and rainwater soaked the front of my shirt. I staggered away, my foot slipping on the wet pavement, and crashed hard onto the ground. Maybe out of sheer pity, a passing taxi pulled over right in front of me. Once I was inside, my phone buzzed. A text from Hugo. Aria, stop throwing these tantrums. You made Sherry cry! My wrist was inflamed. My stomach was throbbing with a dull, strange ache. There wasn't a single dry or clean spot on my entire body. But none of that mattered compared to a few of Sherry’s tears. Where are you? I went to the clinic but you’re not here. Why were you at the clinic anyway? What's wrong? My nose burned. I almost took a picture of my bruised, pathetic arm to send him. But before I could, another text popped up. Just text Sherry back first. She's really worried about you. The hand holding my phone simply dropped into my lap. The last remaining shred of my desire to communicate vanished into thin air. Once I got home, I quickly stood under a boiling hot shower. But shortly after, a fever hit me like a truck. One hundred and one degrees. I tore through the cabinets, finally punched out a few fever pills, swallowed them dry, and collapsed into bed. I didn't know how much time had passed when a sharp click and a blinding overhead light ripped me awake. Hugo stood at the foot of the bed, his brow furrowed in anger. "We were out there going crazy looking for you, and you’re just at home sleeping!" My head was spinning as I pushed myself up. Looking at his perfectly dry, immaculate clothes, a mocking smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "What’s so funny?" His expression darkened. "I called you ten times. You didn't pick up once." "Aria, have you noticed how incredibly impossible you are to please lately?" He kept venting his frustrations, completely blind to my unnaturally flushed face and the blister packs of medicine scattered across the nightstand. After Hugo took a shower, his temper seemed to cool down. When he climbed under the covers, he reached out to pull me into his arms, just like he always did. I rolled over, dodging his touch. "Go sleep in the guest room." Hugo stiffened, his face turning ugly. "You’re really going to keep dragging this out, aren't you." He kicked the blankets off and stormed out of the room. I pulled the covers up and drifted back into a feverish haze. Late into the night, the sharp ache in my stomach woke me up again. I dragged myself out of bed to go to the bathroom, but noticed a sliver of light coming from the guest room. As I got closer, I realized he was singing softly into his phone. It was a slow acoustic love song. "That was beautiful. Sing it for me one more time." Sherry’s sweet, soft voice drifted from the speaker. Hugo let out a low chuckle. His tone was drenched in a rare, intoxicating gentleness. "I’ll sing it one more time, but then you have to go to sleep. It’s late." "Okay." And so Hugo patiently sang the verse again. Intimate, breathless, laced with a strange hint of sorrow. When the final lyric faded into the quiet room. Sherry suddenly spoke. "I do. I will marry you." Hugo fell completely silent. In the heavy darkness of the night, Sherry’s voice broke into an agonized whisper. "That night wasn't a dream. We were so perfect together. You kept whispering that you loved me, and now you’re going to marry someone else. My heart is breaking." "Sherry..." Hugo’s voice was strained, struggling to get the words out. "I was drunk that night. Didn't we promise each other we would never bring it up again?" "You were drunk, but I wasn't!" Sherry’s reaction was fierce and desperate. "You knew exactly who I was. You moaned my name." "You even hung up on Aria when she called for help." "You’re only marrying her out of guilt, aren't you?" Separated by a single wall, I clamped both hands over my mouth, tears streaming down my face in a silent, violent flood. A month ago, I was working late. Hugo was supposed to pick me up, but he never showed. I was tracked down a dark street by a drunk. I was almost assaulted. When Hugo finally rushed into the police station, his face was pale with terror. He held me tight, swearing his car had broken down halfway there. I believed him. It was all a lie. The silence stretched on forever. Hugo never offered an answer. But I knew exactly what that meant. He was admitting it. Every last trace of love I had left for him evaporated. I wiped my face, turned around, and walked to the bathroom. I noticed a small amount of blood in my underwear. I put on a pad, planning to head to the hospital first thing in the morning. But when I woke up, Sherry was in my apartment. "Aria, come eat breakfast! I made your favorite French toast." She flashed a sweet, gentle smile, playing the perfect, loving best friend. That is, if she hadn't just thrown my favorite matching couple's plates straight into the trash can. Seeing me staring dead at the shattered ceramic, she clasped her hands together, looking utterly apologetic. "I am so sorry, Aria. My hands were wet, and I accidentally dropped them." Accidentally? Those two plates were kept on entirely separate shelves. How incredibly convenient that she broke exactly that pair. My lips turned white with rage. I tried to tell myself to just walk away. But the moment I looked up, I caught a brief, malicious glint of triumph in her eyes. A flood of overlooked memories suddenly slammed into my brain. Hugo’s missing promise ring. His smashed smartwatch. The bizarre tear in the matching jacket I bought him. Every single time, Sherry had been there. Even an idiot would see the truth staring them in the face now. "Aria, why are you just standing there? Eat up." She placed a plate with an omelet on the table. And right in the empty space beside it, she had drawn a mouse out of ketchup. I was terrified of mice. When I was a kid growing up poor, a rat had crawled into my bed and almost bitten my nose off. My stomach violently heaved. I bolted for the bathroom and threw up until my vision went dark. Sherry’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. She followed me, radiating victimhood. "Aria, what did I ever do to make you hate me so much?" The screech of a chair scraping the floor echoed as Hugo stormed over, looking entirely fed up. "Just ignore her. She’s acting crazy again!" But Sherry wouldn't listen. She rushed forward, grabbing my arm to support me. "Aria, are you okay? Let me make you some tea." Her tone dripped with concern, but her eyes were dead, staring at me like I was a corpse. My skin crawled with disgust. I shoved her away. As we struggled, the necklace flashing around her throat caught my eye. It was the custom necklace my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. "Give that back!" I lunged to rip it off her neck. Sherry let out a bloodcurdling scream. "Help! Aria, please don't hit me!" In the next fraction of a second, a brutal force slammed into my back.
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