Chapter 4

I drifted gently behind Joshua Cooper. For the first time in three years, I could break free from Richard's pull.

After Joshua got into the car, he leaned back in the seat and frowned up at the sunroof. It was a long time before he started the engine.

After that birthday night, the three of us never had the same easy rhythm.

There was always low tension, like a drawn blade waiting to be used.

I was stuck in the middle, trying to play peacekeeper, desperately holding together a friendship that felt ready to fall apart.

Everyone hid something. And those chaotic, messy years of youth ended in a hurry.

Richard and I went to the same college. Joshua left for places that felt out of reach.

That summer Joshua solemnly confessed to me. I did not accept him.

Because the night before he confessed, Richard got drunk at a class reunion and roughly stole my first kiss.

Richard announced us right away. I became his girlfriend. Everyone at school cheered.

Joshua was there too. He saw it, but why make things hard for me?

If I had said yes to him, what would Richard do? I couldn't let Richard lose face.

After that, Joshua rarely came home. Holidays meant travel or study. His social posts pinned him all over the world.

After college, he went abroad for further study. He only came back when Richard and I started talking about marriage.

His home matched him—simple, clean, no fuss. This was the first time in a long while I'd been alone with Joshua.

The last time was before Richard proposed. The proposal wasn't a secret; he planned everything in front of me.

Richard said surprises could go wrong. What if he couldn't convince me and we regretted it?

Besides, Richard invited friends and family, including Joshua.

Joshua once asked me, "Do you really think you'll be happy?"

At that moment, I was hurriedly touching up my lipstick. I mumbled an answer.

But two hours later, I died there. I died at what I thought was the happiest moment.

Joshua sat alone on the couch drinking. There was no TV in his living room. On the wall, in the center, hung a painting.

I could recognize it without having to look closely. It was the oil-paint version of the photo he'd taken of me.

Joshua held an empty glass and stared at it for a long time.

Then he got up and walked toward the shower. His long fingers unbuttoned his shirt and I felt awkward.

He couldn't see me, but I hovered right in front of him, so close I could have reached out and touched his chest.

I squinted and noticed a mark on the smooth skin of his left chest. A little crescent moon.

When I realized what it was, my mouth fell open and I looked up at him. His eyes dropped there too.

Almost at the same time, we both reached to touch that tattoo.

Joshua flinched and looked up in surprise.

For a moment, I thought he might see me. But his gaze never focused on me.

Still, that soft touch of his fingertip felt warm. I thought I'd imagined it.

As I tried to reach again, suddenly a strong pulling force yanked me.

My vision blurred, and when it cleared I was back beside Richard.

He was slowly erasing every trace of me. The rug, the painting, the vase—everything I had bought was getting packed into cardboard boxes.

Noelle sat on the dining table, swinging her legs. "Richard, do you want me to take these down to the car later?" she asked.

Richard was packing the coasters I had bought. He paused. "Put them in the garage for now."

Noelle snorted. "Fine. You still haven't let go of her, have you?"

Richard pinched Noelle's cheek. "You little jealous one. Am I not good enough for you?"

Noelle immediately puckered up and looped her arm through his. "I don't feel secure. People all say that a man's first love is unbeatable."

Richard's face darkened a few shades. He bent down and kissed her hard. "She has nothing left to compete with you for."

One sentence pierced my heart like a knife. I had thought I would not feel pain anymore.

What did this world want from me, forcing me again and again to watch Richard fall in love with someone else?

After separating, Richard said to Noelle, "Next week, I'm going to meet your parents."

My phone vibrated. I fished it out stiffly.

Eighteen-year-old Richard was annoyed that I hadn't replied. [Why aren't you answering me? How old are we when we get married? I can't wait.]