Chapter 3
Back at our apartment by the Charles River, Ethan tried to take my hand. I shifted away.
He sighed, tossed his car keys onto the marble counter, and put on his usual patient expression.
"Claire, we've been together for seven years. We're getting married next month. Why are we acting like enemies over something this small?"
Before I could answer, the phone in my bag began vibrating insistently.
A notification lit up the screen from the forty-person group chat we'd created for the wedding.
I unlocked my phone, my fingertips suddenly cold.
The latest message was a grid of nine photos Vivian had posted.
In the center photo, she was wearing the gown with the long train I'd been saving, leaning against Ethan's shoulder with a radiant smile.
Ethan was looking down at her, his expression full of unmistakable tenderness and affection.
Beneath the photos was a teasing message from Ethan's best friend from college: "Oh my God, after all these years, you two finally got your wedding photos! Guess that unfinished business from graduation is finally settled."
A string of laughing emojis and congratulations followed. Someone even tagged Ethan and asked, "Hey, groom-to-be. You chased her for three years and never got anywhere. Does this count as a dream come true?"
Not a single person in the chat mentioned me, the bride-to-be.
They seemed to have completely forgotten that this group existed for my wedding to Ethan.
My breathing grew heavy. I thrust the screen in front of his face.
Ethan glanced at it. His relaxed expression froze, and his jaw tightened in alarm. "Those guys never know when to shut up. They don't think before they say things…"
"Set the record straight in the group, Ethan." I held his gaze, every word clear. "Tell everyone this joke isn't funny. Tell them Vivian was just trying on my dress, and that you were there today as my fiancé."
The guilt in his eyes gave way almost instantly to resistance.
He frowned as though I'd made a completely outrageous demand.
"In the group? That's all my parents' relatives and our old college friends!"
His voice rose, impatience straining beneath it.
"If I call them out in front of everyone, how are we supposed to face each other afterward? What about Vivian? She already feels terrible about this afternoon. Do you have to blow this up until there's no coming back from it?"
Even as he spoke, he was typing rapidly on his phone.
Less than two minutes later, all nine of Vivian's photos quietly disappeared from the chat.
Then Ethan pulled me into his arms and showed me his screen. It was his private chat with Vivian, with one brief message: Delete them. Claire's not happy.
Vivian had replied with a sad kitten sticker: Okay. Sorry, Ethan. I messed up again…
"See? I already got her to delete them."
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief and even reached to pat my back soothingly.
"The pictures are gone. Everyone will forget about them soon. Can we leave it at that?"
He thought that if he erased the evidence, the humiliation might as well never have happened.
He thought blaming it all on my being "unhappy" was more than enough to make things right.
Standing in our brightly lit living room, I looked at the entitlement in his eyes—I've already given in. What more do you want?—and felt my stomach turn cold.
"Leave it at that?" I stepped back, putting distance between us.
I looked at the thick stack of wedding invitations on the coffee table, still waiting to be mailed, our names stamped across them in gold.
For seven years, I'd made a habit of compromising, of being the understanding, gracious partner who quietly took care of everything behind the scenes. So much so that he was certain I would walk down that aisle, no matter what happened.
"Ethan, let's put the wedding planning on hold," I said.
He went still.
The impatience vanished from his face. All the color drained away.
"What did you say?" His voice trembled. For the first time, I saw real fear.
"Claire, the invitations are printed. We've paid the hotel deposit. The wedding is in six weeks! Have you lost your mind? How can you even talk about putting it on hold?"
"I haven't lost my mind, and I'm not joking." I looked at him calmly. "If you refuse to set clear boundaries, if you think you can sacrifice my dignity whenever you need to save face, there's no reason for this wedding to go ahead."
Ethan panicked.
He stepped forward and gripped my shoulders with both hands, his knuckles whitening.
"No, Claire. I'm sorry… I handled it badly. I swear I never meant to make you feel like you didn't matter! Don't cancel the wedding. Don't do this to me."
His breathing came fast, his eyes pleading. "I'll arrange a face-to-face meeting with Vivian tomorrow. I'll have her apologize to you in person, and I'll set everyone straight… Claire, please. Give me one more chance to fix this. Will you?"