Chapter 3

"You're right," I said.

I dropped the photograph onto the tile floor.

"If something had happened between you two, I wouldn't have stood a chance. So now I'm getting out of your way. Isn't that what you wanted?"

I slipped the ring off my finger.

It was plain platinum.

Very thin.

No diamond.

Ethan had promised he would buy me a real diamond once he started making more money.

And like a fool, I believed him.

Yet on Rachel's birthday, he had bought her a genuine diamond pendant.

I saw it with my own eyes.

Rachel had even made sure to flaunt it right in front of me.

*Ethan's always spoiled me since we were kids, don't be mad!*

I set the thin ring down on the display table.

"You two can have the wedding."

"The dress is already tailored to her body. The photos are already taken."

"It saves you both the trouble of planning."

Rachel's face drained of color.

"Claire, don't be like this."

"Like what?"

I glared at her, enunciating every single word.

"Don't you love using my things? Go ahead and take it all. Take the dress, take the pictures, take the man. I hope you two rot together forever."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit.

Ethan's furious voice echoed behind me.

"Claire! Stop right there! You are being totally ridiculous!"

I didn't look back.

I pushed open the glass doors into the blinding afternoon sun.

I headed straight to his mother's house.

On the way, I called my mom.

"Mom, cancel the wedding."

The line went dead silent for a few seconds.

"Claire, honey? What happened?"

"I'll explain later. Just call the family and tell them it's off."

The moment I hung up, the tears finally spilled over.

Two years with Ethan.

And for the first time, I felt utterly sick to my stomach.

I first met Ethan at a friend's party.

He was handsome, with a bright, charming smile.

When he pursued me, he drove me to work every day, brought me breakfast, and draped his jacket over my shoulders whenever it rained.

I genuinely thought I had found the one.

On the second weekend after we started dating, he told me he wanted me to meet someone important to him.

That person was Rachel.

His childhood best friend.

They had lived on the same block since they were toddlers.

The very first time Rachel saw me, she immediately looped her arm through Ethan's.

"So this is your new girlfriend? She's okay, I guess. Not as pretty as me though."

Ethan just chuckled and ruffled her hair.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the prettiest girl in the world, happy now?"

It rubbed me the wrong way at the time.

But I told myself: *They grew up together. They're just close. It's fine.*

Only later did I realize.

It wasn't fine at all.

On our very first anniversary dinner, Rachel was there.

She claimed she was lonely and bored at home, begging Ethan to let her tag along.

Ethan agreed without a second thought.

During that entire dinner, the two of them never stopped talking to each other.

Recalling childhood memories, joking about mutual neighbors, reminiscing about the old neighborhood.

I sat across from them, unable to get a single word in.

That was the first time.

Then came dozens more.

Movie nights? Rachel wanted to see the movie too, and she ended up sitting directly between us.

Back then, I naively thought:

*Maybe things will change after we get married.*

*Once we have a ring on our fingers, he'll finally understand the boundary between a wife and a friend.*

But this disaster at the bridal shop woke me up.

He will never figure it out.

Never.

The cab pulled up in front of his mother's building.

My hands were trembling as I knocked on the front door.

Ethan’s mom, Martha, opened the door. When she saw me, she looked surprised.

"Claire? What are you doing here, sweetie? Weren't you supposed to pick up your gown?"

Her eyes landed on my red, swollen face.

"Honey, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Martha..."

My voice cracked, and fresh tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Rachel had my wedding dress altered to fit her."

"And Ethan took a full set of wedding photos with her."

"The most expensive package in the studio. Three thousand dollars."

Martha’s face went chalk-white.

"What?!"

"For two whole years, every single thing he gave me, he bought an exact copy for Rachel. Every time he spent time with me, Rachel had to be there."

"I thought things would get better once we tied the knot. But I realize now that it never will. If he marries me, he's marrying Rachel too, because she won't let go, and neither will he."

"I'm not marrying him, Martha."

I looked at her, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Let them get married instead. They deserve each other. Whatever money you set aside for the wedding, just give it to her."