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While Andrew Quinn knelt on one knee proposing to another woman, I sat locked in a storage closet. My phone screen glowed with the live stream of his carefully orchestrated proposal. Roses blanketed the ground beneath twinkling fairy lights, creating the perfect romantic scene. He raised a diamond ring toward the woman standing before him. His voice carried that tender tone I used to know. "Olivia, marry me. I promise Charlotte won't come between us anymore." I twisted the plain silver band on my ring finger, then swiped to open another file on my phone. The photo showed me standing outside the city hall on the day we'd filed for our marriage license. The man beside me in that picture wasn't Andrew.