Chapter 1

The year I auditioned for drama school, I completely choked.

I ended up marrying the street dancer who had been chasing me for three years. We were broke, but life felt stable.

Meanwhile, Grace Harrington, my best friend, married the most elusive heir of the Vane family, who spoiled her rotten and turned her into Hollywood's hottest "It" girl.

She complained once, "That director is so mean. I'm done shooting." The next day, the entire cast was shaken up, and the director was blacklisted from the industry.

While I was walking three extra miles home on blistered feet just to save a two-dollar subway fare...

Grace had Mr. Vane buy out an entire trendy street because he forgot her "half-sweet" note on her iced matcha latte, all to get her the perfect custom drink.

Their fairy-tale romance dominated the trending pages all year.

Everyone envied Grace's luck. I did too, but I was never jealous.

I was just like everyone else—I admired her luck, but I never felt jealous.

That was until Finnick and I scheduled our ninety-ninth trip to City Hall to get our marriage license, and he got hauled into the precinct again for a street brawl.

At that exact moment, Grace updated her Instagram. [He said he finally paid off what he owed her. From now on, I am his whole world.]

The attached photo showed her fingers intertwined with the billionaire heir's.

And on his ring finger was the silver band I had personally engraved.

*****

"Excuse me, can you knock two bucks off this fabric? Come on, you know how much I buy from you!" I said.

"Ruby, you're a pretty girl. Keep nickel-and-diming over a few bucks, and your man is gonna get sick of you being so cheap," the shopkeeper joked.

I pressed my lips together, folded the fabric, and forced a smile. "Then at least throw in a few scraps, and keep the change."

I hadn't walked far when I heard a scoff behind me. "Being that cheap and still trying to make custom dresses. She probably stole the material."

Old hag. It was her fabric that had a frayed hem in the first place.

I gripped my tote bag tight, wanting to turn around and argue, but then I just laughed.

Whatever.

Today was the fourth time Finnick and I were heading to City Hall... well, strictly speaking, it was the ninety-ninth time we had made the appointment.

I was in a good mood today. I wasn't going to let her ruin it.

The next second, my phone lit up.

"Ruby, we've got a situation here. Some guys are causing trouble at the venue, and I need to handle it. Can we do City Hall another day?" Finnick's voice was frantic over the deafening background noise.

He said an old rival from another dance crew came looking for a fight, and he had to kick them out.

He told me to head home first, saying he left some breakfast for me in the fridge.

Finally, the call cut off in a chaotic crash.

I stood outside the textile market. The May breeze blew past, but it felt like swallowing crushed ice.

Ninety-nine times.

Since we met, this was the ninety-ninth time he had stood me up because of an "emergency."

It was either a brawl, a dance battle, or one of his boys getting into trouble. There was an excuse every single time.

And every time, I convinced myself: he was just trying to survive. He didn't mean to. He treated me well.

My phone buzzed.

[Grace Harrington just posted!]

I tapped the notification.

She had posted a selfie. Barefaced, eyes slightly red, leaning against a man's shoulder.

The background was the endless night skyline of Ostville from a penthouse suite.

The caption read: [My husband said he finally paid off his debt to her. For the rest of his life, he's exclusively my golden retriever.]

The comments were blowing up.

[Omg my ultimate ship is endgame!]

[Mr. Vane spoils her so much! Grace deserves the best!]

[I heard that woman clung to the Vane heir for years. He's finally free.]

I wanted to leave a like, but my finger hovered over the screen. Something caught my eye.

In the photo, the hand the man used to pull Grace close had a silver ring on his ring finger. A simple, thin band.

The inside should have a tiny engraving. A rose, and the name "Ruby."

It was the ring I designed myself when Finnick proposed.

I sat with a silversmith to hammer it out bit by bit. He told me there were millions of roses in the world, but I was his only one.

I had the Little Prince and his rose engraved inside.

It was the only pair in the world.

I tapped the photo, zoomed in, and zoomed in again. Until I could clearly see that tiny rose engraving.

My hand trembled, and the phone dropped right onto my foot.

It hurt. But not nearly as much as the knife twisting in my chest.

By the time I snapped out of it, my fingertip had already double-tapped to like the post.

The next second, Grace called me.

"Ruby! You finally remembered your ride-or-die!" Her voice was sweet and bubbly. "My Mr. Vane finally got our marriage license today! Do you have any idea? I've waited exactly four years to hear him say those words..."

I opened my mouth, my voice totally dry. "Congratulations, Grace."

"What's wrong? You sound so stuffed up. Did Finnick make you mad again?" She paused, her tone softening. "Do you want me to have him—"

"No." I cut her off. "It's just allergies. My throat is acting up."

Grace didn't press the issue, instantly falling back into her usual habit of rambling about her man.

She told me about the time he heard she had low blood sugar, paused a massive board meeting, and drove forty minutes just to bring her a hot cup of tea.

She talked about how she casually mentioned craving authentic beignets, and the very next day, he had someone wait in line for two hours and fly them over on a private jet.

She went on about when her dad got sick, he directly contacted the top specialists at Johns Hopkins, set up a VIP suite, and didn't let her worry about a single dime.

"Ruby." She suddenly lowered her voice, sounding a little shy. "Finnick told me that you two were also planning to go get your license today? That means we're really going to be practically family now!

"I'll have my husband book a nice restaurant tonight, and the four of us can grab dinner?"

I told her that wasn't necessary. She didn't pick up on anything being wrong and hung up happily.

I stood on the crowded street corner, gripping that piece of frayed fabric, suddenly having no idea where to go.

The light turned green.

I barely took a step when an e-bike zipped past, clipping my dress and splashing up a puddle of dirty water from last night's rain.

From head to toe. My white sundress was now a filthy gray, the ends of my hair dripping wet.

"Watch where you're going, you blind idiot!" the woman on the back seat yelled over her shoulder.

I looked up at her deeply annoyed face.

Today was just terrible.

I got called cheap over two dollars. I was crossing the street perfectly fine and got called blind.

I suddenly didn't want to take it anymore.

"Blind?" I wiped the dirty water off my face, staring her dead in the eye, my voice dangerously low. "You drove the wrong way down a one-way street, hopped the crosswalk, and you're asking if I'm blind?"

The woman froze for a second, then shrieked, "Who do you think you're talking to with that attitude..."

"I'm speaking plain language." I said. "Was that clear enough for you?"

The e-bike sped off, the woman still cursing under her breath.

I stood frozen in place, soaking wet, and suddenly let out a laugh.

After laughing, I crouched down and buried my face in my knees.

I didn't cry.

I couldn't cry.

My makeup would run.