Andrew, Seraphina, and I—we grew up together, as inseparable as three sides of a triangle. But those two were like oil and water, arguing the second they were in the same room. For over a decade, I was their designated peacemaker. Everyone around us would laugh and say they were rivals, and I was the prize. A week before my wedding to Andrew, a post popped up on my feed. It was a photo from a church wedding, the couple’s backs to the camera, but their silhouettes were painfully familiar. The caption read: [I wore this dress before she did. I had you before she did.] [After all these years, I’ve finally beaten her. Just once.] 1 “Miss Ashworth, our sincerest apologies. The wedding gown will need another day for final adjustments. It will be ready for pickup tomorrow.” Reading the message from the bridal studio, I clicked back to the photo from the post. I zoomed in. The specific constellation of diamonds scattered across the train—that was my design. An hour ago, Andrew had texted me: [Elara, honey, I’m so sorry. Something came up at work. I can’t make it to pick up the dress with you today.] And Seraphina: [Elara, I’m so, so sorry! Something unexpected just came up and I can’t come help you try it on. Forgive me!] Why was everyone so full of apologies this morning? I shook my head, trying to banish the ridiculous thoughts spiraling in my mind. A pinned comment sat at the top of the post: [Even from the back, you can tell they’re soulmates! You grew up together, you’re obviously in love—girl, you have to fight for him! Steal him back!] I tapped out a reply: [If they’re in love, why does he need to be stolen? Genuinely curious. Here for the story.] That evening, Andrew and Seraphina showed up at my door together, bickering as usual. “Some fiancé you are,” Sera started, jabbing a finger at Andrew. “You promised you’d go with Elara to get her dress. What could possibly be more important than that?” “And you?” Andrew shot back. “You said you’d be there to give her a second opinion. You were nowhere to be found either!” I looked at them—the two people I’d known my entire life. My fiancé. My best friend. That post… it had to be a coincidence. Right? “Alright, you two,” I said, feigning a headache. “You start fighting the second you see each other. Don’t you ever get tired?” They exchanged a look, and the corners of their mouths lifted in a tiny, shared smile. A cold dread pooled in my stomach. “It’s fine,” I added quickly. “The studio said it won’t be ready until tomorrow anyway. No big deal.” “Still, we broke our promise,” Seraphina insisted. “Let’s go out for dinner. To make it up to you, my treat.” “Your treat? Don’t steal my line,” Andrew scoffed, rolling his eyes at her. “If anyone’s making amends, it’s me.” He stepped closer to her and playfully swatted the back of her neck. I saw him freeze. A faint blush crept up Seraphina’s cheeks. “Sera? Are you okay?” I asked, a knot of worry tightening in my chest. “Your face is so red. Are you feeling sick?” “Oh! No, no, I’m fine! Let’s just go.” At the restaurant, Andrew and I sat on one side of the booth, with Seraphina across from me. When she came back from the restroom, however, she slid in on the other side, directly across from Andrew. Andrew, who had been in the middle of placing a piece of grilled salmon on my plate, paused. I saw a subtle shift in his posture, a slight movement in his lower body. Seraphina’s expression was pure satisfaction. She had a little wine and got progressively louder, insisting she spend the night at my place. When we got back to my apartment, Andrew looked at her, now slurring her words, and frowned. “Elara, I should probably just take her home. Look at the state of her. I don’t want her keeping you up all night.” I nodded. “Okay. Drive safe.” After my shower, I saw a reply to my comment on the post. [The three of us grew up together. He and I were always closer, the classic pair of bickering sweethearts. But she liked him too. And he felt he owed her his life, so he promised himself to her. I had no choice but to smile and wish them well. He couldn't bear to see me hurt, so he took the dress she designed and let me wear it first. He gave me a secret wedding, just for the two of us, one the world could never accept. I’m so content. And tonight… tonight is our wedding night.] Attached was a new photo: four bare legs tangled in bedsheets. The nail polish on her toes… it was the exact shade I had helped her pick out last week. 2 The comments section was exploding with shippers, all of them offering her advice. [Girl, you can’t just let a love like that go! You have to fight for your happiness. It doesn’t matter if they’re engaged—even if they were married, you could still get him!] [A life debt isn’t the same as love! You need to be brave and make him see the truth!] [OMG, you should totally crash the wedding and steal him at the altar! We’ll be watching!] [+1!] The poster replied: [Oh no, I couldn’t! She’s my best friend, too. I could never betray my best friend for a man. To be honest, she’s more important to me than he is! As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters~] [My heart breaks for you. It’s always the quiet ones, the ones who don’t cry, who get nothing. This is so unfair T_T] … I remembered playing house in our neighborhood courtyard as kids. Andrew announced that I would be his bride. Seraphina immediately burst into tears. “No, no! I want to be your bride!” “Okay,” Andrew had said, ever the diplomat. “Then you can both be my brides.” The memory, once sweet, now tasted like ash. All the adults who had laughed at our childhood game… what would they think now? I tried video-calling Andrew. He declined it instantly. An hour later, a text came through: [Elara, she was having a drunken meltdown. Threw up everywhere. I just finished cleaning up.] Soon after, the anonymous post was updated again with a gushing account of their “wedding night.” [After tonight, I have no regrets. I will stand on that stage with you, as her maid of honor. And I will wish you—both of you—a lifetime of happiness!] The words and pictures made my stomach churn with nausea, but the comment section was a sea of sympathy. [Ugh, I can’t even imagine how painful that is. Watching the man you love marry your best friend, and you have to stand there smiling and congratulating them.] [I think the guy needs to grow a spine, call off the other engagement, and marry the poster.] [Maybe the other woman is a real piece of work. Maybe the poster and the guy are scared of what she’d do.] [I hate people who force things. You can’t force love. And the poster puts her first, but all she cares about is herself.] Without knowing a single fact, they had judged and sentenced me, casting me as the story’s villain. But why? When Seraphina’s father was implicated in a major political scandal, it was my dad who pulled every string he had, who worked tirelessly to find evidence and clear his name. That was the darkest period of her life. I brought her into our home, shared my bed with her, comforted her, and relayed every piece of good news from my father the second I heard it. Andrew even complained that I was ignoring him for her. “Can you get your priorities straight? Do you see what’s happening right now?” I’d snapped at him, sending him away. Afterwards, she had clung to me, sobbing. “Elara… you’re too good to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. If Andrew ever dares to treat you badly, I’ll be the first one to make him pay.” Twenty years of friendship. Two completely different faces. Her words were all blessings and surrender, but her actions were a knife in my back. My heart turned to ice. The next day, I went to the bridal studio. “Why are there two diamonds missing here?” I asked, running my finger over the train. The staff exchanged nervous glances. Finally, a young assistant stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne said… he said the design looked better this way,” she stammered. I called Andrew on the spot and told him to come down. When he arrived, he looked at the dress, and I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Elara? Why did you come by yourself?” “There are two diamonds missing. They said it was your idea.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Oh, right. Yes. I thought it looked cleaner this way. A little more minimalist. Too many stones felt cluttered.” “And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” “It was Sera—” He caught himself, cutting the name short. 3 “Elara, are you angry?” I shook my head. “No. I just think it’s a bad omen. Doesn’t this count as… damaged?” “Of course not!” he said, his voice a little too loud, before softening it again. “Elara, don’t overthink it. The wedding is just around the corner. We’re about to be husband and wife, for real. Aren’t you happy?” I stroked the silk of the gown, not answering him. It didn’t matter how much love I had poured into this dress. It was used. Tainted. I could never wear it now. As the wedding date drew closer, Seraphina’s secret account became more active, posting a series called “Wedding Countdown.” Countdown: 5 Days. [He made me my favorite breakfast sandwich today. She’s never even had one he’s made. If I can’t be his only one, at least I can be his first.] The accompanying photo was of Andrew in our kitchen, wearing an apron, his back to the camera. I’d asked him to cook for me once. He’d refused, laughing. “Your delicate palate can’t be subjected to my culinary disasters.” Countdown: 4 Days. [He gave her the title, but he gave me the forever promise ring—the one you can only ever buy for one person. With this token, you’ll find me in our next life.] The photo was a close-up of Andrew kissing a diamond ring on her ring finger. Even with his face blurred, the tenderness was unmistakable. [I can’t take this anymore. Just get together, please! We’ll start a petition begging the other girl to let you go!] [Sign me up!] [Me too!] Her reply: [She loves him so much too. I can’t bear to hurt her, not after all our years of friendship.] [But she’s hurting you, sweetie! The one who benefits from the situation and stays silent is part of the problem! She’s not innocent!] [Exactly! If she won’t back down, we’ll crowdfund to… take care of her. Ugh, don’t judge me for being vicious, I just can’t stand seeing such a wonderful girl be so unhappy.] (Author liked this comment) [I’m with you on that one.] Reading the comments, I felt like I was plunging into an icy abyss. If they were truly in love, they could have just told me. It would have hurt, yes, but I would have understood. I would have stepped aside with grace. But they chose this. This cheap, vicious, backstabbing performance. Calmly, I saved everything. Scrolling further back, I realized Andrew had been with her three years ago, during her supposed solo trip around the world. Her photos often featured the blurred edge of a man’s shoulder, or his reflection in her sunglasses. There were videos shot from a “boyfriend’s perspective.” At the time, she’d told me love wasn’t important to her; she craved freedom. Those men were just fellow travelers she’d met along the way. During that same period, Andrew was on assignment at his company’s Northern European branch. I had been so blind. Three years, and I never suspected a thing. If it weren’t for the algorithm pushing her secret account onto my feed… Countdown: 3 Days. We were at the event planner’s office, finalizing the last details. Andrew glanced at his phone, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “Elara, I’m going to have to leave you to handle this.” “I need to run back to the office for something urgent.” Before I could respond, he was already walking away, a spring in his step. “Andrew!” He turned back, a look of mild confusion on his face. “It’s three days away. There are details you need to know. I can’t do this all by myself.” He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. “You got this. Just sync me up later.” Perhaps Andrew had forgotten. Years ago, when his family was transitioning from politics to business, they made enemies. One night, sensing danger, he grabbed my hand and we ran, sprinting through the endless dark. A gut feeling made me glance back. I saw a man raising a gun. In that split second, without thinking, I threw myself in front of Andrew. Luckily, the man was a poor shot. The bullet only hit my shoulder blade. But the pain, a searing, bone-deep agony, is something I will never forget. 4 Through a haze of pain, I saw Andrew’s face, twisted in a mask of primal terror and rage. Later, in the hospital room, in front of both our parents, he knelt by my bed and swore an oath. He would marry no one but me. “Elara,” he’d whispered, his voice trembling, “you have no idea how scared I was. If I had lost you… I don’t think I could have lived.” For months after, he woke up from nightmares, screaming, dreaming of me lying lifeless in a pool of blood. Even after the best care, the wound left a scar and lingering nerve damage. On rainy days, it still aches with a phantom, needle-like pain. It was a permanent reminder that I had once thrown myself in front of death for a man named Andrew Thorne. I thought seeing them for who they truly were would numb me to the pain. But as the memories flooded back, I found myself shaking with sobs under my covers, the old wound in my shoulder throbbing in sympathy. Seraphina’s countdown continued. Day 3. [I know they’re going over wedding details right now. The thought of what will happen in three days is killing me. But I never imagined… I said one word and he dropped everything to come be with me.] The attached image was a screenshot of her chat with him. [I have a new present for you. Want to come see it now? ;) ] The comments section remained a baffling chorus of support. [Ooooh, what’s the present? I’m dying to know!] [She is so selfless. She gives every beautiful part of herself to the man she loves.] [I get it. As the wedding gets closer, she’s in agony. But her sense of loyalty and morality keeps her from acting. All she can do is pour her love into him, to make his body remember her forever—remember the girl who gave him everything so selflessly.] The comment was pinned to the top. Just then, my phone rang. It was Andrew. “Elara… I have to go out of town for the next two days, to the next city over. I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to handle the final wedding prep.” He sounded slightly out of breath. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back the day before the ceremony.” My voice was a dead calm. “Is it that important? More important than our wedding?” I heard him let out a soft grunt. “I’m sorry, Elara. If I could get out of it, I would… I wouldn’t be telling you this at the last minute.” The line went dead. I sat perfectly still, waiting. The post updated. [He called her while we were in the middle of it~] [From now on, every time he talks to her on the phone, I want him to remember me. Right now.] As always, the post was met with a wave of sympathy and misplaced admiration. For the next two days, they had their final, frantic farewell in the Hamptons, calling each other husband and wife. Once I had organized all the evidence, I showed my parents everything. My father’s face was grim. “Go, Elara. Take a trip. Clear your head. Leave the rest to me.” The wedding day arrived. As guests began to file in, I was boarding a flight. Andrew and Seraphina arrived separately, but close together. A smudge of bright red lipstick was clearly visible on the corner of Andrew’s mouth. His mother, Amelia, laughed. “There you are! I was wondering where you’d gone. Couldn’t wait, could you? Had to go bother Elara right before the ceremony. Go on, wipe your face before you embarrass us.” Andrew finally registered that he hadn’t seen Elara in what felt like forever. She must be in the bridal suite, waiting for her grand entrance. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face. The guests were all seated. The officiant began his opening remarks. Andrew’s eyelid began to twitch. Something felt wrong. He exchanged a nervous glance with an equally guilty-looking Seraphina. Seeing my parents, stoic and composed in the front row, calmed him slightly. The officiant repeated his cue for the bride three times. She never appeared. The large screen behind the altar, which had been cycling through a slideshow of Andrew and Elara’s happiest moments, suddenly went black. When it flickered back to life, it wasn’t a photo. It was a PowerPoint presentation. It showed screenshots of Seraphina’s posts, her comment interactions, the pixelated photos with Andrew, the suggestive pictures from their "wedding night," the secret church ceremony… The final slide was the comment about crowdfunding to have me “taken care of,” the one she had personally “liked.” It was blown up to fill the entire screen.
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