It was the ninety-ninth time my boyfriend and my best friend had pretended to be a couple. They had easily snatched first place in the mall’s Valentine’s Day giveaway—a seven-day, all-expenses-paid trip to Zermatt. By the time I rushed to the airport terminal, out of breath and pulling my luggage behind me, Gavin simply handed me a standby ticket. "Regular seats were all booked," he said, not even looking up. "Just make do with this." I stood there, dumbfounded, holding the flimsy slip of paper. They were already moving toward the priority line, talking fast and laughing over inside jokes from some obscure foreign show I had never seen. Standing in the middle of the surging crowd, I was left behind. Again. "Ma'am, standby tickets don't include checked baggage," the gate agent said flatly. "The cabin overhead bins are full. You're going to have to leave a few things behind." At the counter, three airline employees crowded around me while an impatient line of passengers offered a chorus of heavy sighs behind my back. Panic hit me like a physical blow. My severe social anxiety flared up instantly; my hands trembled, and sweat broke out along my hairline. My suitcase lay open on the scuffed airport floor, its contents exposed like a woman stripped naked in public. I knelt on the cold tiles, sorting through everything over and over again. Their heavy ski equipment couldn't be thrown out. The matching outfits provided by the contest sponsors couldn't be thrown out either. In the end, my hands closed around a garment bag containing a wedding dress I had kept for five years. I lifted it out and handed it over to the agent. "Ma'am," the agent paused, her eyes softening with a flicker of hesitation. "Are you sure you don't want this?" I zipped the suitcase shut, forcing a bitter smile as I shook my head. "Yes. I'm sure." "The man worth wearing it for doesn't exist anymore." … The plane touched down. At the foot of the Swiss Alps, the temperature dropped drastically. I wrapped my heavy wool coat tightly around myself and walked into a small chalet market near the station. An unexpected, sticky sensation between my thighs sent a wave of panic through me. Standing at the checkout, my French was so rusty and stammered that my back was soaked in cold sweat before I could even explain what I needed. "Excuse me, could you stop wasting everyone's time?" I turned around and found Gavin standing right behind me in line. I didn't know how long he had been watching. Even so, a surge of relief washed over me. "Feminine pads, please," I muttered. Gavin sighed loudly. "Careless as always. Can't you even remember your own cycle?" He paid for the pack and handed it to me. Just as a small ember of warmth sparked in my chest, a sudden chill swept over my shoulders. Gavin pulled my coat off me without a second thought. "Kendra gets cold easily," he said, already draping my coat over her shoulders. "Lend it to her." Past Gavin’s shoulder, I saw Kendra standing in a thin pleated skirt, shivering in the drafty air. She was blowing onto her hands to warm them up, and Gavin reached out, wrapping his large hands firmly over hers. "Thank goodness Josie was here," Kendra said, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Otherwise I really would have frozen to death." "It's your own fault for not wearing layers," Gavin scolded softly, though his voice was entirely fond. "Luckily, Josie takes care of us." Kendra blew a playful kiss across the air toward me, then shoved both of their rolling suitcases into my hands. "The sponsors need our check-in photo right away. Josie, roll the luggage outside first, okay? Gavin, do you remember the pose?" The two of them chattered endlessly as they headed straight for the picturesque photo spot outside the glass doors. They left me standing there, tasked with hauling three oversized, heavy suitcases across the slick floor alone. When I finally pushed through the exit doors, a blast of icy wind hit my face, slicing into my lungs like a razor. I couldn't stop a violent shiver from racking my body. It took thirty minutes for them to come back. Kendra shoved her phone screen directly in front of my face, pouting about the shot. "Josie, give us an honest review," she complained. "Does Gavin's hand look too low on my waist in this one?" I didn't answer. My eyes were glued to Gavin’s hand, resting firmly and naturally on the curve of her hip in the photo. I stood frozen for a long time. "See? I told you," Kendra said to Gavin. "Josie thinks so too." "She didn't even say a word," Gavin replied. "I know her better than you do. Silence means agreement." They bickered casually between themselves, slipping into a comfortable rhythm that completely erased me—just as they had done for the past ten years. When had Gavin become so comfortable with this kind of physical intimacy? It probably started the very first time they suggested pretending to be a couple. It was outside our office building, where a brand was running a promotional event: couples who could finish a pretzel rod in three seconds would win a pair of custom novelty rings. I was too socially anxious to participate, and Gavin claimed he was too shy for public affection. Only Kendra was eager to jump in. She had blinked at me with a charming grin. "Josie, let me borrow your boyfriend for a sec! Don't worry, I know where the boundary is. Hands off bestie's guy—I get the rules." I had felt uncomfortable, scrambling in my mind for a polite way to decline. But Gavin had nodded before I could speak, reassuring me with a quick smile. "It's just a silly game, Josie. Don't overthink it." "One second! We got it!" The event host snapped a photo and immediately posted it on the wall of contestants. In the picture, their lips were pressed tightly together. They were both laughing. Later on, fake-coupling became an addiction for them. I had been angry once. I had asked them what the point of it all was. Gavin had just ruffled my hair, exchanging a knowing glance with Kendra. "It's just lighthearted, exciting fun. You have an issue with taking things too seriously—you wouldn't get it even if we explained." And now, standing in the biting wind, watching their retreating figures walk closer and closer together, I finally realized the truth. That one temporary "borrow" had lodged itself straight into their hearts. And I had become nothing more than a glaring, pathetic outsider. "Josie, why are you just standing there like a statue?" Gavin turned around, frowning. "Don't be an idiot—come over and grab a suitcase." He finally stepped away from Kendra, taking one of the bags from my hands. "Are you mute today? If you need help, speak up." He paused, lifting my bag up and down. "Wait, why is your suitcase suddenly so light?" He looked at me with genuine confusion. "I threw away the wedding—" "Forget it," Gavin cut me off with a scoff. "You really need to start treating yourself better, Josie. Packing so little just to make a point... don't come crying to us later to borrow our clothes when you freeze." With a mocking shake of his head, he turned and walked away. The icy wind whipped into my eyes, stinging until they watered. "You're right," I thought silently, watching his back. "I should cut my losses and start treating myself better." Outside the terminal, they were nowhere to be found. Instead, a text message popped up on my screen from Kendra. "Josie, the shuttle car is completely full! Grab a local taxi and meet us at the hotel. You have all our IDs in your handbag, so hurry up! Waiting for you!" Standing on the curb of an unfamiliar foreign town, crippled by my social anxiety and unable to understand the local language, panic engulfed me entirely. It took fifty minutes to flag down a taxi in the freezing eight-degree weather while a bitter wind howled past. I stood there shivering in my thin shirt. By the time I finally climbed into the back seat, my fingers were so stiff and blue that it took several minutes to regain any sensation in them. Outside the window, the scenery rolled backward, and the looming snow-capped peak drew closer. The whistling wind seemed to turn back the clock, pulling me straight back to Valentine’s Day five years ago. "Gavin, when are you actually going to propose to me?" "That depends on when Kendra and I finally win that trip to the Alps, doesn't it? We made a deal, didn't we?" I had been curled up in his arms while a storm raged outside our apartment window. "But we aren't broke anymore," I had whispered. "Why do we have to keep waiting for a contest?" "Where's your sense of romance?" He had reached for a pull-tab from a soda can on the coffee table and carefully slipped it onto my ring finger. "When the time comes, I'm going to drop to one knee right in front of the golden alpine sunrise and put my family heirloom ring on your finger. Framed by the morning light—won't that be absolute perfection?" That was the vision I had held onto for five long years. Because of that promise, a wedding gown had lived permanently inside my luggage, and that heirloom ring had been worn around my neck, resting right over my heart every single day. But now, the distant peak showed through the melting ice. My wedding dress was gone. And that promised perfection? I didn't want it anymore. … When I arrived at the hotel lobby, the two of them were fast asleep on the lounge chairs, leaning closely against each other. They looked like a real couple. It brought an aching sting to my nose. "Josie, what took you so long?" Gavin jolted awake, wiping his eyes before snatching the passports and IDs from my hands with a deep scowl. "I never should have trusted you to hold these." He glared at me, his eyes landing on my short sleeves and my pale, frostbitten face. "Are you doing this on purpose?" he demanded, his voice laced with annoyance. "Trying to guilt me into giving you my coat?" I stared at him, utterly stunned. I looked at the heavy trench coat he was wearing, remembering the countless times in the past when he would wrap his jacket around my shoulders without a second thought the moment the temperature dropped. Once upon a time, he had actually been able to see me. "Josie, are you cold?" Kendra rubbed her sleepy eyes, making a dramatic gesture as if to pull off her jacket. Gavin immediately reached out, holding her coat firmly in place. "Don't enable her!" He whirled around to face me, his tone harsh. "Josie, making everyone constantly guess what you're thinking is exhausting. You don't have the life of a princess, but you certainly have the attitude of one." After throwing those words at me, he grabbed Kendra’s hand and led her toward the elevator. "I just asked the front desk—they're completely booked out," he added over his shoulder without looking back. "Figure out your own lodging." As the elevator doors slowly slid shut, I saw Gavin lean down, placing a gentle hand against Kendra’s forehead. I even caught his soft words through the narrowing gap: "You're not warm. Don't worry." "But Gavin... do you have any idea how burning hot my head feels right now?" The moment I pushed open the hotel exit doors, the freezing wind slammed into my chest, making it hard to breathe. I stopped in my tracks and made a choice. I turned around, walked back to the front desk, and forced myself to dig deep for every ounce of courage I had. Using the rusty conversational skills I had picked up while sitting in on foreign language electives in college with Kendra, I spoke to the receptionist. "The presidential suite, please." Gavin was wrong about one thing. I, Josie Morgan, actually "did" have the means to live like a princess. It was just that from this moment on, he had officially lost the right to be my prince. … The presidential suite happened to be on the exact same floor as their room. As I walked down the carpeted hallway, their door was slightly ajar, and I caught sight of them laying together on a couple-themed canopy bed. "Gavin... will Josie be mad that we're staying in the same room?" "The contest organizers insisted on it," Gavin replied, his voice drifting into the hall. "If she gets mad over this, she's just being completely unreasonable." A window at the end of the corridor wasn't closed properly. A draft swept through, making me shiver violently. Just as I raised my keycard to unlock my door, Gavin’s voice floated out once more. "Still, it's freezing out there. I wonder if she found a place to stay." "With her social anxiety, she won't actually freeze on the streets, will she?" "Beep. Please enter." I closed the door on their delayed, hollow concern. Then, I collapsed headfirst onto the plush, warm bed, drifting into a heavy, feverish sleep. … Hours later, I woke up to a splitting headache. I struggled to sit up and checked my phone: 9:00 PM. My messaging inbox was completely dead—not a single text. Yet, my social media feed was completely flooded with Kendra’s posts. "Caption: "Checking off local cuisine! Eating with the right person doubles my appetite!" "Photo: Kendra feeding Gavin a piece of fresh tuna sushi, while Gavin frowned affectionately at her." But wasn't Gavin severely allergic to seafood? "Caption: "Riding the Ferris wheel! Just as romantic as a scene from a movie." "Photo: A selfie of them at the highest point of the wheel, their heads pressed together, Gavin smiling brightly at the camera." But hadn't Gavin been terrified of heights since he was a young boy? It turned out that in Gavin’s world, Kendra was the sole exception. She was the exception he would take allergy medication for just to accompany, and the exception he would force a bright smile for even when his knees were shaking from acrophobia. A single tear escaped my eye, falling onto the phone screen. By cruel coincidence, it landed directly on the heart icon, leaving a "like" on her post. In a panic, I tried to retract it, but it was already too late. Gavin’s call came through instantly. The moment I picked up, his sharp voice unleashed a barrage of accusations. "Josie, what is your problem?" "It was an accident," I whispered. "I tried reaching you all afternoon! Kendra thought about how socially anxious you are and went out in the freezing wind to buy you food," Gavin barked through the speaker. "And what do you do? You sleep in a hotel room all afternoon, wake up, and immediately try to start drama?" "I didn't." My voice was weak and raspy, but to his ears, it probably sounded like guilt. "Gavin, don't yell at Josie," Kendra’s sweet, hurt voice sounded in the background. "She probably just misunderstood..." I didn't have the energy left to play their exhausting game. I pressed the red button and hung up. A second later, the landline phone in the room rang. "Miss Morgan," the concierge’s warm voice came through. "We noticed you haven't left your room all evening. Considering your thin clothing earlier, our staff suspected you might be unwell." "Yes," I croaked into the receiver. "I have a fever." "Understood. Please rest, our staff will be right up with assistance." I gripped the receiver, my hand trembling faintly as tears welled in my eyes. A complete stranger I had met once could tell I was sick. Yet two people I had spent ten years with had chosen to look past me the entire day. In that quiet moment, the truth hit me with brutal clarity. In this three-person relationship, I was, and had always been, entirely obsolete. "After this trip... we're completely done," I thought to myself. A soft knock sounded at the door. It was a young hotel attendant carrying a large box. In broken English mixed with careful gestures, she explained what she had brought: fever medicine, cooling patches, a bowl of hot porridge, and a thick, high-end thermal ski jacket. Before leaving, she gave me a gentle, warm hug. "Even when you are alone... please take good care of yourself!" After she left, I turned on every single lamp in the suite. The warm, yellow light flooded the room, feeling as comforting as her hug. I finished the hot porridge, feeling a small wave of strength return to my body, and placed a dissolving tablet into my mouth. It tasted terribly bitter, but the label noted that dissolving it under the tongue offered the fastest relief. Ten minutes later, a text from Gavin lit up my screen. "Where are you? Kendra brought you food." "Next door," I typed back. "?" A minute later, loud knocking pounded on my door. I wrapped a thick wool blanket around my shoulders and opened it. Gavin stood in the hallway, his jaw dropping when he saw the interior. "You booked the presidential suite?!" "Is there a problem?" I asked softly. Gavin shoved past me, walking inside. As he took in the marble floors, the sprawling living area, and the panoramic views, his expression darkened to a terrifying scowl. "Josie, have you completely lost your mind?" he yelled, turning to glare at me. "We agreed to save every penny for a down payment on our house! How are we supposed to get married if you're throwing away money like a spoiled brat?" He clenched his fists, his eyes bloodshot with rage. I looked at him calmly. "Then let's not get married." "Or better yet, you can ask Kendra if she'd like to marry you instead." My tone was completely serene. Gavin stood frozen in place, staring at me as if I were a stranger. "Fine," he spat out through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare regret this." He slammed the container of cold leftovers onto the table and stormed out, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him so hard the walls vibrated. I quietly turned off the lights. In the faint moonlight, I stared out the window at the dark, snowless peak of the mountain, staying awake until dawn. … At three in the morning, another knock sounded. It was Kendra. "Josie, Gavin didn't sleep a wink last night," she said softly, looking at me with concern. "Just go apologize to him, okay?" "What did I do wrong?" I asked. "Look, I know you're upset, but you can't throw around the topic of marriage just to win an argument," Kendra chided gently. "He's been preparing for this proposal for so long. And I just looked outside—there's fresh snow on the peak today. Even heaven wants to fulfill your dream. Why do you have to ruin it by throwing a tantrum?" A tantrum? They truly believed I was just making a scene. I shook my head and let out a faint, dry laugh. When had getting married turned into a desperate, one-sided obsession of mine? As if I were some domineering woman forcing him into a life sentence against his will. Gavin stepped up behind her, his voice stiff. "Fine. I forgive you." "Let's go. Good lighting doesn't wait around, and we shouldn't waste the day. Where's your wedding dress?" He stepped past me, opening my suitcase—only to find it practically empty. "I threw it away," I said quietly. "The bag was overweight." "Threw it away?" Gavin looked surprised, but quickly scoffed. "Well, whatever. It's freezing up there anyway—only an idiot would wear a thin wedding dress on a mountain. Let's go." As I stepped into the hallway, I could feel Gavin’s gaze pinned to my back the entire way to the lobby. But that attention was far too late. I didn't need it anymore. … When we reached the observation deck near the summit, the morning light was just beginning to break through the clouds. It wasn't full sunrise yet. I sat down on a stone bench, quietly waiting. I was waiting for one final sunrise to bring a formal end to five years of foolish longing. "Gavin... the contest sponsors said we have to film the fake proposal scene right here," Kendra said awkwardly, checking her phone. "What should we do?" Gavin rubbed his temples in frustration. "What a hassle. Let's just get it over with quickly so we can focus on our own schedule." "But... I don't have a ring," Kendra murmured, looking at Gavin, then darting a quick glance at me. Gavin walked over to where I was sitting and pointed at the heirloom ring hanging from the red string around my neck. "Let us borrow it for the photo shoot, alright?" I raised my head, looking directly into his eyes. All I saw was impatience. "Are you sure?" I asked softly. He nodded without hesitation. "Yes." "Alright." I reached up, grabbed the ring, and pulled hard. The silk string snapped. I held out my hand and dropped the ring into his palm. "Here. Take it." The ring that had spent ten years resting against my skin, belonging to the man who had once been carved into my soul... was given away just like that. Their "proposal" was sloppy and transactional, lasting only long enough to snap a few promotional photos. "Take it off, quick. The sun is about to come up," Gavin urged anxiously, watching the sky brighten. "Gavin... it's stuck!" Kendra panicked, her voice cracking as she tugged at her ring finger. "What do I do? It won't come off!" The heirloom ring was jammed tightly on her finger. The two of them scrambled in a frantic mess, completely flustered. In their chaos, they missed the golden moment of the sunrise. And Gavin lost me forever. … The trail leading down the mountain was steep and slick. I took every step with immense difficulty, while the two of them flirted and walked ahead. Halfway down, a terrifyingly familiar tightness gripped my chest. My asthma was flaring up. I couldn't draw in a single breath. My lungs burned, and my fingernails and lips began turning a faint shade of blue. I fumbled for my emergency inhaler, but pressing it yielded nothing—it was completely empty. The suffocating sensation of impending death dropped me to my knees on the gravel. Using the absolute last thread of strength in my body, I called out to his back. "Gavin... help me!!" "Ouch! I twisted my ankle!" Kendra’s high-pitched cry rang out at that exact moment. "Gavin, you have to carry me down!" Before darkness swallowed my vision, I saw Gavin turn his head and look back at me. Then, he turned away, picked Kendra up in his arms, and hurried down the trail. In that final moment of clarity, I understood. To them, I was occasionally useful. But right now? I was entirely disposable. … When I woke up in the local clinic, the room was empty. I stared out the window at the melting snow on the distant peak, my heart completely still. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "Dad..." I said softly into the receiver. "Is that arranged marriage with Everett still an option?"
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