The day before the engagement banquet, I changed the bride's name to another woman's. Because I'd finally realized that the most important person in my fiancé Ethan's heart wasn't me. It was my best friend, Lily. It started with my birthday dinner. When we were ordering, Ethan asked what I wanted to eat. I said, "Whatever you like." By the time all the dishes arrived, the entire table was covered in spicy food. But three days earlier, I'd been hospitalized for acute gastritis. The doctor had explicitly told me to avoid anything spicy. Ethan knew this perfectly well. And yet there he was, piling spicy dishes onto my plate without a second thought. "Lily just got back in town," he said casually. "I told her to come celebrate your birthday with us. The more the merrier, right?" I gripped my glass of ice water, a dull ache spreading through my stomach. Again. Lily. The friend I'd grown up with. And the first person she'd contacted when she returned to the country was my boyfriend. I looked up at him. Ethan didn't seem to notice anything wrong. He was studying the menu, absently picking the bones out of a piece of fish. He placed the tenderest fillet on the empty plate in front of Lily's seat. She hadn't even arrived yet. But her plate was already taken care of. There was a time I would've made a scene. I would've snatched his phone, told him point-blank: "We're a couple. Date night means just the two of us." But now, I simply nodded. "Sure." Ethan blinked, caught off guard. He probably hadn't expected me to be this calm. He quickly looked back down and snapped a photo, posting it to our group chat — the one with all three of us. "Little foodie, saved this just for you. Get here soon or there'll be nothing left but bones." I stared at the message. The ache in my stomach crept upward, settling into my chest. I set down my chopsticks and picked up my bag. Ethan was grinning at his phone screen. He didn't even notice me stand up. Just as well. Some departures were never meant to include a goodbye. ... Twenty minutes later, Ethan finally texted. "You've been in the bathroom forever. Lily's here — she's already eating." I sat in the back of a taxi, staring at the screen, my eyes stinging. I had been gone for twenty minutes. He thought I'd gone to the restroom. He hadn't even noticed I'd taken my bag. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Miss, you want me to keep circling?" I was quiet for a few seconds. Did I want to keep going? Keep waiting for him to realize I was gone. Keep waiting for him to ask, "Where are you?" Keep waiting for him — just once — to choose me when a third person walked through the door. And then what? I'd go back? My phone buzzed. A message from a contact saved as "N." "Is your stomach still hurting? I had someone pick up some medicine. I'll bring it to you tomorrow." I looked at it for a few seconds, then replied: "No need. I won't be home tomorrow." The response came quickly: "Okay. Get some rest." I closed the chat and said to the driver, "Stop circling. Take me to my parents' place." The car had just merged onto the main road when Ethan texted again. "Are you upset again?" "Lily came back from her trip and even brought you a gift. Walking out without a word is pretty rude, you know." "Again." Funny word. It meant he knew this wasn't the first time I'd been hurt because of Lily. It also meant he'd always thought I was making a big deal out of nothing. Lily had come back to the country today. Ethan knew. I didn't. Two days ago, she'd messaged me: "Emma, I really can't get away. I'll definitely make it back by Sunday for your engagement." I'd even reassured her. Told her it was fine. Told her to take care of herself. But she'd flown back on Friday. And gone straight to Ethan. It suddenly hit me — this was my fifth birthday since Ethan and I got together. The first year, Lily had insisted on joining us. Ethan had frowned and said, "Can't we have some time alone? Your friend really doesn't take a hint." I'd laughed and teased him for being jealous. The second year, he was the one who suggested it. "Invite Lily. More people, more fun." By the third and fourth years, I didn't even have to say anything. He'd already arranged it. It was always the three of us. Dinner, shopping, trips. Every time, I sat on the sidelines watching them talk about things I couldn't follow. This year, Lily was away on a business trip. I thought I'd finally have a birthday that was just ours. A few days ago, Ethan had held me and said, "This year it's just the two of us. We'll do it right." I'd been happy about that for days. Looking back now, it was laughable. I opened the group chat. Lily had posted a string of photos — all of the spicy dishes on the table. She'd also shared the same pictures on her social media, captioned: "Someone knows I can't live without spice. He really gets me." Comments appeared almost immediately: "The three of you reunited again? You guys are literally inseparable." Lily replied with a laughing emoji. I stared at the word "inseparable." Every time I saw something like that, I felt like I couldn't breathe. They all thought the three of us came as a package deal. But what I'd wanted was never to be crammed into the same photo with two other people. And certainly not to end up as the one who got cropped out. Soon, another comment appeared: "Who ordered a whole table of spicy food? Doesn't Emma have a thing about spice?" I held my breath. The next second, Ethan replied: "She's too prissy. Couldn't hang with us." I actually laughed. Two days ago, he had been the one who drove me to the hospital. The medical chart said in bold letters: avoid spicy and irritating foods. He'd promised he would remember. And it had been — what — two days? My inability to eat spicy food had become "prissy." Today was my birthday. He'd promised to spend it with just me. And now it was me who couldn't hang with them. The taxi stopped at a red light. My phone lit up again. Ethan had sent a voice message. "Emma, where'd you go? I slipped up — I forgot you can't eat spicy—" I didn't listen to the rest. I pressed the screen dark. Outside the window, the city lights stretched on like a runway with no end. I had been running on this track for five years. I'd always believed the finish line was his arms. Now I saw it for what it was — a loop. The start and the finish were both just me. And he had never once changed course for me.
By the time I turned the key in the lock, my parents were already asleep. A sticky note was pressed to the refrigerator, in my mother's handwriting. "Sweetheart, if you come home, the cake is on the second shelf. Happy birthday." If. She didn't even know whether I'd come back. But she'd made me a cake anyway. I opened the fridge. A white cake box sat there, quiet and still. I scooped a bit of frosting with my finger and put it in my mouth. It was sweet. I was halfway through when Ethan called. I hesitated, then picked up. "You didn't come home. Where are you?" I said nothing. Didn't come home? I did come home. I'd even packed up all my things. Half the closet was empty. The vanity was bare. But he hadn't noticed. His attention had always been on the person who wasn't there. "Emma, if you have something to say, just say it." Ethan's voice was edged with impatience. "Lily came all the way back, and you just took off. It's awkward for everyone." I took a bite of cake. The frosting stuck in my throat. I let out a small laugh. So in his eyes, I was the one who'd made things awkward today. The two of them had eaten happily, posted photos, replied to comments, tagged each other. He remembered Lily liked spicy food. Remembered which kind of fish she preferred. He forgot I was still sick. Forgot I couldn't eat spicy food. Forgot that I was the birthday girl. I hung up. A flood of old memories surged forward. Back in school, Lily's family had been struggling. Her mother had gone to mine, invoking their old friendship, asking for help with Lily. My mother paid her tuition. My teacher asked me to tutor her. After graduation, her credentials weren't strong enough. She hit walls everywhere looking for work, so I recommended her to a good company. Later, she used my connections to get into Ethan's startup. And then, inch by inch, she moved closer to Ethan. While I was pushed to the margins. My mother got up in the middle of the night and found me sitting at the dining table. She froze. "Sweetheart, what are you doing home? Where's Ethan?" She was still half-asleep, but worry had already crept into her eyes. "I missed you guys," I said softly. She walked over, smoothed my hair, and didn't ask anything else. I knew she was waiting for me to be ready to talk. But I couldn't bring myself to say it. How was I supposed to tell her that her daughter had spent her birthday sitting in front of a table full of food she couldn't eat, then taken a taxi home alone? How was I supposed to tell her that the man she believed would marry me couldn't even be bothered to say, "Where are you? I'll come get you"? I opened my phone. Ethan hadn't sent any more messages. He probably figured he'd done enough to smooth things over. And I figured I'd had enough. I didn't want to wait anymore. At one in the morning, I lay in bed and scrolled through my chat history with Ethan one last time. I swiped back to our first year together. He hadn't been so busy then. There hadn't been so many "something came up" excuses. He used to video-call me every night. One message made me stop. "From now on, every birthday of yours — I'll spend it with just you." "I missed all the ones before. I'm going to make up for every single one." And he had. He'd bought twenty small cakes. Prepared twenty gifts. Made up for every birthday I'd ever had. I burst out laughing when I blew out the tenth candle, and frosting sprayed all over his face. Those memories were so good. Good enough that I almost softened again. My phone buzzed. Ethan. "Emma, I packed up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. Heat them up tomorrow — they'll still be good." "I also ordered an extra fish dish you like. Not spicy." I stared at the dish he'd named, and laughed out loud. He'd gotten it wrong. Again. That was Lily's favorite dish. She ordered it every single time we ate out. I'd told him to his face that I didn't like it. Too rich. He'd been sitting right there and said, "Then eat something else." He only remembered what Lily liked. He never remembered what I didn't like. I opened his social media page. I thought he would have at least posted something about my birthday, the way he had in previous years. But his latest post was a photo of himself and Lily at the restaurant. The caption read: "Old friend's back in town. Had to celebrate." No mention of me. No mention that today was my birthday. I closed the page and deleted our entire chat thread. Memory cleared. From now on, my birthday had nothing to do with him.
The next morning, I woke at dawn. Three missed calls on my phone. All from Ethan. And a message. "Call me when you're up. Lily's mom is arriving in the city tonight. Go pick her up from the station." A second one followed right after. "Lily's coming with me to meet a big client. I want her to get some practice. Help me out and pick up her mom, would you? She said last time she really liked you." I looked at the screen. It was almost funny. Almost. Ethan's memory could be remarkably sharp when it suited him. He remembered that Lily's mother had made an offhand comment six months ago about "liking" me. He remembered that I was the person who could run errands, lend a hand, show up whenever and wherever he needed. He just couldn't remember how I felt. Or that we'd had a fight just yesterday. I got up and washed my face. I was about to head out when my mother came from the kitchen carrying a bowl of congee. "Sweetheart, where are you going? I wanted to talk to you about the engagement tomorrow." She'd barely finished speaking when a message from the hotel arrived. "Ms. Emma, Mr. Ethan has confirmed the menu for tomorrow's engagement banquet. Please review the attachment." "If any changes are needed, please contact us by 5 p.m. today." I opened the attachment. A dozen or so dishes on the menu. One glance told me everything — all spicy. I kept scrolling. The head table flowers had been changed from white tulips to red roses. The background music had been switched to "Slowly Falling for You." The dessert station had gone from fruit tarts to a chocolate fountain. I didn't know why Ethan had allowed these changes. But I knew that red roses were Lily's favorite. The chocolate fountain was the thing she'd once called "like a fairy tale." And that song was her ringtone. As for me — I was allergic to chocolate. I didn't cry. I didn't tremble. I simply replied, very calmly: "That's fine. Could you help me with one last change?"
When I was done, I turned off my phone. My mother was still going over tomorrow's plans beside me. "Your uncle keeps asking. I'm thinking, if you two want to move the wedding up after the engagement, I'll push back some of my other commitments..." She picked up her phone as she talked. "Actually, we need to discuss this with Ethan. Let me call him over." "Mom." I placed my hand over hers. "We don't need him to come." My mother froze. I didn't explain. I took a taxi to the apartment Ethan and I had been sharing. I'd left in such a rush the night before that I'd forgotten my passport in the bedroom drawer. After retrieving it, I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The takeout container from last night was sitting inside. I picked it up and dropped it straight into the trash. Then I closed the door. And didn't look back. ... The engagement banquet was scheduled for noon the next day. Inside the ballroom of a five-star hotel, servers were setting up the head table. Ethan arrived with Lily. As soon as Lily walked in, she set her bag on a chair and complained in that half-joking, half-serious way of hers: "Honestly, Emma. She made my mom wait forever at the station yesterday." "Ethan, you spoil her too much. Being your fiancee doesn't give her the right to act like that." Ethan's expression was stiff. "I sent my assistant to pick her up in the end. Your mom didn't wait that long. Forget it." Lily paused, then said softly: "But last night we were with the client so late, we just stayed over. Emma's not going to be upset about that, is she?" "I mean, your engagement is today, and you spent the night before with another woman. No matter how you look at it..." Ethan cut her off. "It was work. What's there to be upset about?" "This client matters. If we close the deal, I can buy her a wedding apartment downtown. Paid in full." His expression softened slightly as he said this. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a gift box. Inside was a necklace. Emma had looked at it many times. But the company's cash flow had been tight, and she'd always been frugal. She couldn't bring herself to buy it. On Friday night, he hadn't had a chance to give her the birthday present before she left. He was, in truth, a little angry. He thought she was being unreasonable. That she'd picked the wrong time and place to throw a fit. But he had forgotten she couldn't eat spicy food. Fine. He'd take out the necklace in a little while. Apologize. Hold her. She was always easy to win back. Every time she got upset, all he had to do was make the first move, and she'd come around. Ethan walked to the door of the bridal suite and took a deep breath. He pushed it open. "Emma, I'm sorry about your birthday. I—" The words died in his throat. He stood frozen.
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