Chapter 3

I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water over my face again and again, but the numbness wouldn't fade.

My wedding was tomorrow.

The invitations were delivered. The venue was booked. My wedding gown hung in the closet. Everything was ready.

With shaking fingers, I dialed Ethan’s number.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings...

No answer.

Dazed, I dial Blair’s number.

Straight to voicemail.

My stomach plummeted.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. When they were sneaking around behind my back, did they feel even a shred of guilt?

Or did they just thrive on the cheap thrill of an affair?

I knew Blair was a travel influencer. She documented every step of her life across platforms.

I also knew content creators always kept burner accounts.

I searched using the hotel’s location tag, sifting through nearby posts one by one.

Finally, under a private account named "The One Who Isn’t Loved Is The Intruder", I found a photo.

In it, a man’s lean hand was uncorking a bottle of champagne. On his wrist was the watch I had bought him for his birthday last year.

It was Ethan.

The caption was short:

[Stolen time. Every second is on borrowed time.]

The comments were split. Some cheered for 'true love,' while others called her out as a homewrecker.

My hands trembled as I scrolled through the profile. This account was nothing like the wholesome couple’s page I followed.

It had hundreds of thousands of followers and was created years ago.

Here, she had chronicled our lives.

Her very first post tore into me with subtle venom:

[If I knew the architecture hottie was that easy to get, I would’ve shot my shot. Can’t believe my friend actually bagged him.]

[And she didn't even warn me they were grabbing lunch. Did she want me in my pajamas and no makeup just to make herself look better? Pathetic.]

Someone commented asking if they were toxic frenemies. She replied with a laughing emoji.

Later, when I caught a fever and Ethan came to nurse me, she posted:

[Someone’s acting like a pampered princess again. It’s just a fever, get over yourself.]

[Silver lining: I got some alone time with him while running errands. Guess she’s good for something~]

Right under my nose, they had been whispering behind locked doors.

Blair posted: [We both added each other on our burner accounts at the exact same time. Is this fate, or what?]

Below that was a dump of blurred-out chats.

They talked about music, dreams, and everything Ethan claimed I didn't care about.

Blair fed his ego, and Ethan kept telling her how easy it was to talk to her.

On Valentine’s Day, Blair sent homemade chocolates to his office. She refused his return gift, saying she didn't want him spending money.

Ethan told her she was the most special woman he had ever met.

They kept their flirtation carefully disguised. Every post claimed I was her 'inspiration.'

He gave her gifts to thank her for 'taking care of me.' He took her out to dinner to 'scout restaurants for my birthday.'

In her posts, I became the needy, demanding, suffocating girlfriend.

Under the guise of friendship, they indulged in their dirty little secret.