Chapter 4

"Ava, I want to talk about the wedding."

For once, Ethan was the one initiating the call.

"Speak."

"Chloe has been in a really bad state lately. She had another episode yesterday. I was thinking... can we postpone the wedding for two months? Once she's stable, we can—"

"Postpone it for two months?"

"Let me finish. It’s not like we're fully prepared anyway. Didn't you say yesterday there was an issue with the color scheme? This gives us time to fix it. We want it to be perfect, right?"

I leaned against the doorframe, letting his words sink in.

"Ethan, the venue deposit is non-refundable."

"I'll handle the money—"

"I'm not talking about the money."

He fell silent for a moment, his tone taking on a patronizing edge.

"Ava, I know you feel wronged. But you know Chloe’s situation. I'm her only friend. I can't just leave her to die, can I?"

*Leave her to die.*

That was how he described the consequences of not being by her side.

"The day your dad passed away, I didn't make it in time because of Chloe too, didn't I? You understood back then, didn't you?"

I set my glass down.

"Ethan, I didn't 'understand' back then. I was too busy holding up my collapsing mother to fight with you."

Silence stretched over the line.

"Look, next week I'll get Chloe sorted out. I'll hire a full-time therapist for her—"

"Next week? The final walkthrough is the day after tomorrow."

"Can't you just go by yourself? You've always been better at this than me."

There it was again. *You're better at this. You can handle it alone. You're so independent.*

Three years of this.

After hanging up, I sat on the sofa, staring into space for ten minutes.

Then, I opened Snapchat and scrolled through our college group chat. Over three hundred people, usually dead silent.

Last year, someone had asked Ethan when he was getting married. He had replied: "Not decided yet."

Chloe had replied with a voice note. I tapped it.

"Haha, Ethan hasn't told you guys yet? He said he wants to make sure my stuff is sorted out before he thinks about his own~ No rush~"

She announced it with the cozy familiarity of a housewife.

Nobody replied to her. But nobody corrected her either.

Including Ethan.

I kept scrolling through Chloe’s Instagram, going all the way down.

Three months ago—"Ethan took me to pick out a birthday gift. He has the best taste." The photo was a jewelry box.

Five months ago—"Someone fixed my bedroom light. So blessed." Location: Ethan's apartment.

Which was also my apartment.

Eight months ago—"Holidays are only meaningful when spent with the most important person." The photo showed two cups of coffee and two desserts. The date was my birthday.

That day, Ethan had told me he was stuck at a corporate retreat and couldn't make it back.

I put my phone down.

I slid the ring off my left ring finger and placed it on the glass coffee table.

The metallic clink against the glass was light and sharp.

I dialed Cole’s number. It rang once before he picked up.

"Cole."

"Talk to me."

I stared at the ring on the table, the light reflecting off its polished band.

"Help me put together a wedding."

I paused.

"You're the groom."

The other end went dead quiet for two seconds.

TThen, a very low, soft chuckle vibrated through the speaker—subtle, restrained, like someone who had waited a lifetime finally hearing the words he wanted.

"What's the date?"