My fiancé’s childhood sweetheart sabotaged my wedding three times. First, she flew back from overseas, intercepted our wedding car, and dragged Liam away before he could reach me. She claimed his mother was unwell and needed him urgently. The second time, she drunkenly knelt in front of our motorcade, blocking the road so Liam couldn’t pick me up. She sobbed that it was all her fault and begged me to hit her. The third time, she secretly rerouted the entire procession to a remote cemetery. We arrived surrounded by tombstones. Each time, Liam defended her: his mother’s health, her sacrifices, her pain. But he didn’t know—after this final failure, his wedding would become his funeral. It wasn’t until the polished town car turned onto a gravel path flanked by tilting headstones that I realized Ava had played me again. She had taken advantage of the fact that I was a stranger in his sleepy hometown, quietly altering the GPS coordinates. She’d sent us to this godforsaken boneyard. Outside, the hired drivers got out to smoke, their eyes darting towards me, filled with a cruel, mocking pity. “That’s three strikes. Pretty clear the groom doesn’t want to marry her.” “Tell me about it. I heard this is the bride’s first time in his hometown. He’s never even brought her to meet the family!” “Seriously, who gets married in a cemetery?” I sat in the back, my knuckles white, crushing the delicate stems of my bridal bouquet. The pristine white lace of my dress, once a symbol of hope, now felt like a costume for a fool. Just last night, Liam had sworn to me, promised that this time, his precious Ava wouldn’t interfere. And now, here I was, the punchline to a joke I never wanted to be a part of. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Liam, a reply to the one I’d sent thirty minutes ago. “Sorry. Ava said it was just a joke. Don’t get worked up over nothing. I’m on my way to get you now, okay?” This was the man who used to reply to my texts in seconds. Ever since Ava came back, his responses had grown slower, shorter, colder. In the passenger seat, Liam’s mother, who had been listening to the voice note, turned a terrifying shade of purple. She clutched her chest, her voice a low growl. “Clara… Liam… does he always treat you like this?” “This is… this is unforgivable.” Her health had been fragile for years; she’d been in a private care facility overseas and had missed the first two failed weddings. But she was finally well enough to be discharged, and she’d insisted on coming with me today to surprise Liam. Her face a mask of cold fury, she dialed his number. He rejected the call. She tried again. Rejected. Finally, on the third try, he picked up, his voice exploding through the speaker before she could even say a word. “Clara, I already said I’m coming! What more do you want?” he snarled. “She lost me forever, and you’re the one who gets to marry me! Can’t you be a little more gracious? Don’t you forget, she’s the one who’s been looking after my mother all this time!” And then, a different voice cut through the line, a soft, whimpering cry. It was Ava. “Liam, I can’t bear it… I really can’t live without you…” Her whimper suddenly sharpened, rising into a high, theatrical moan. A sound that anyone with a pulse knew the meaning of. The line went dead. Liam’s mother was hyperventilating, her words choked with rage. “That bastard! That absolute bastard!” The world went silent. A sharp pain bloomed in my palm. I looked down. My nails had dug so deep into my skin that blood was welling up, warm and sticky. It was the only thing that felt real. Liam and I had never— “Give this one to Wendy, too. Look at you, you’re still standing and yelling. You’re not that fragile.” “Do you really think you’re some kind of national treasure? Can’t handle a little hardship?” His arrogant, dismissive tone was more suffocating than the thin mountain air. My custom-blended oxygen, my emergency medication—all of it had become offerings for him to appease his little protégée. The other assistants on the shoot busied themselves with the camera equipment, pretending not to see the confrontation. I felt like a patient whose life support had just been unplugged, gasping for air on the edge of life and death. “Acute altitude sickness can cause pulmonary and cerebral edemas… It can kill you!” I hissed, the words scraping my throat. “Pulmonary edema? Who are you trying to scare?” Kieran rolled his eyes. Wendy played her part beautifully, shrinking behind him. “Sloan, I know you don’t like me… but Kieran said you’re experienced. I’m sure a little situation like this is nothing for you.” She even had the audacity to flash a peace sign at the GoPro clipped to her collar. The sight of her smug face sent a wave of dizziness through me. “Enough!” I lunged for my oxygen tank. Kieran shoved me back, hard. I stumbled, nearly falling into the snow. “What do you think you’re doing?! If something happens to Wendy, can you take responsibility for that?!” Wendy immediately clutched her chest, her voice turning faint. “Kieran, I… I don’t feel so good again… Maybe I shouldn’t have come… Does Sloan think I’m stealing her spotlight…?” “It’s not your fault. She’s just being selfish!” Kieran wrapped an arm around her, comforting her in a low voice. “She’s just spoiled. Thinks the whole world revolves around her.” The wind and snow seemed to pick up, blurring my vision. I watched them huddled together for warmth, a perfect couple against the stark white landscape, completely ignoring me, his supposed fiancée. A lethal cocktail of rage and the creeping, black-edged feeling of suffocation churned within me. With a surge of adrenaline, I smashed the helium canister I was holding against a nearby shard of ice. “Kieran!” I screamed, my voice raw. “We’re done! The engagement is OFF!” Kieran froze, his expression twisting from surprise to fury. He took a step toward me, his voice sharp. “Sloan! What the hell is wrong with you? You’re calling off our engagement over something this petty? Do you even hear yourself?!” “Petty?” The word was a pained gasp forced from my lungs. “Swapping out my life-saving oxygen… is petty?” Wendy immediately stepped forward, her voice trembling. “Kieran, don’t be angry… It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t be so weak…” “Sloan must just be saying that because she hates me…” she whispered, but her eyes held a flicker of triumphant glee. Marco, one of the local guides, couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Mr. Thompson,” he said, his brow furrowed with concern, “Ms. Vance really doesn’t look well. Altitude sickness is no joke. Maybe we should…” “You don’t understand, Marco!” Kieran cut him off without a hint of politeness. “She’s just out of shape and loves to play the victim! Every shoot is the same damn drama. Remember the Gobi Desert? The entire crew had to wait for her because she got a little heatstroke. Now she’s pulling the same crap here!” His words were like icicles stabbing into me. In the Gobi, I had pushed myself to capture the perfect light at dusk and nearly died from heatstroke. In his eyes, it was just me being dramatic. “Yeah,” another assistant, one of Kieran’s close friends, muttered under his breath. “Sloan, Kieran is just thinking about the big picture. Wendy’s new to this kind of high-stakes project. It’s only right to look after her. You’re the veteran. You can tough it out.” I stared at him, my vision blurring with involuntary tears. “Tough it out? How… how am I supposed to…” My lungs felt like they were filling with concrete. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. A violent throbbing started in my temples, a precursor to the deadly edemas I knew were coming. Seeing my state, Wendy’s face crumpled as if she were the one in agony. “Sloan, please don’t be like this,” she cried. “I hate seeing you two fight because of me… Here, why don’t you just take the oxygen back? I’ll… I’ll be fine…” She made a show of reaching for her mask. Kieran grabbed her hand, his voice a mixture of anger and tenderness. “Wendy, don’t be ridiculous! She’s just trying to guilt-trip you! Anyone can play the victim.” He whipped his head back to me, his eyes filled with cold disgust. “Sloan, I was so wrong about you. I can’t believe how selfish and petty you are, bullying a newcomer like this. Does everyone have to worship at your feet for you to be happy?” “Do you remember that time you got trapped in an avalanche? Who was it that moved heaven and earth to get a rescue team to you? And now, because you’re feeling a little uncomfortable, you’re willing to ruin this entire project for everyone?” He was talking about the time I risked my life to get a shot for his father’s company. Now, he was using it as a weapon against me. A blinding headache made it impossible to form a coherent response. All I could do was gasp, my mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. Wendy, hiding behind Kieran, allowed a tiny, cruel smirk to flash across her face before her expression shifted back to one of deep concern. “Kieran, her face… it looks awful. You don’t think she’s actually…” “It’s an act! All of it!” he declared. “She’s a brilliant actress! This is just another way to manipulate me, to control me. Well, I’m not falling for it.” He took out his own thermos, twisted it open, and held it to Wendy’s lips. “Here, Wendy. Have some hot water. Ignore her. She just needs to cool off.” The steam from the thermos rose in a soft cloud, a stark contrast to the glacial cold that was seeping into my bones. Despair, as unyielding as the ancient ice beneath my feet, began to freeze me from the inside out. My body slid down the side of the ice wall. My consciousness began to fray. The image of Kieran shielding Wendy, the whispered conversations of the crew—they all blurred into distorted, ghostly shapes. The bottle of high-altitude medication that could save my life was sitting right by Wendy’s feet. It was only a few yards away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. Just then, Wendy silently crouched in front of me. She pulled down her mask. Her cheeks were rosy, her breathing even. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “How does it feel to suffocate, Sloan, you great photographer?” A cruel smile stretched her lips. “Kieran’s been sick of you for ages. He says you’re rigid, boring… like an old woman. Once you have your little ‘accident,’ your fame, your work, and your fiancé… I’ll be happy to take them off your hands.” She patted my cheek, her touch like ice. “Don’t worry. Your memorial service for ‘dying in the line of duty’ will be spectacular.” Wendy’s words were the final snowflake that triggered the avalanche in my mind. I wanted to slap her, but the advanced altitude sickness had stolen all my strength. All I could do was lie there, feeling the warmth bleed out of my body. Just as my vision was about to be swallowed by darkness, Wendy decided she wasn’t done. Her eyes glinted, and she reached out, grabbing the front of my parka. “Sloan, are you too hot? Your face is so red. Let me help you cool down.” RRRRIP! The high-quality, windproof fabric tore open with a sickening sound. My neck and chest were instantly exposed to the sub-zero air. The cold was a physical thing, a thousand tiny knives sinking into my skin. “You…!” I stared at her, trying to scream, but only a choked gurgle came out. My body began to tremble violently from hypothermia. Wendy scrambled back, her face instantly transforming into a mask of panic. “Kieran! Sloan… she’s tearing her own clothes off! I tried to stop her!” Kieran spun around. He saw my exposed skin, Wendy’s frantic expression, and his face hardened into a scowl. “Sloan!” he stormed over, his voice laced with exasperation and fury. “How long are you going to keep this up?! Are you trying to kill yourself just to make a point?!” He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He didn’t care about the truth. “It wasn’t… me… it was her…” I managed to stammer through chattering teeth. “Enough!” Kieran shouted. “It’s always someone else’s fault! You can’t control your emotions, and now you’re resorting to self-harm to threaten us? Do you think this is fun? Do you think this makes you look sympathetic? It doesn’t! It just makes you look pathetic!” His words hailed down on me, merciless and cold. He looked at my crumpled form in the snow, his eyes holding not a shred of warmth, only pure, undiluted disgust. “Fine, Sloan. You want to act?” He sneered, pulling his own storm mask tighter. “Then stay here and put on your show. We’re resting for ten more minutes, then we’re moving to the next location. If you can’t keep up, you can stay here and perform your tragedy for the mountains.” He turned his back on me without a second thought.
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