Chapter 1

It was ten o'clock at night.

The office building was dark, except for the design department, where pale white lights still flickered.

I rubbed my stiff neck and glanced at the dense words on the blueprint. Just as my fingers brushed the rim of my cold coffee, my phone started vibrating.

The screen flashed with a call from Vi.

It was Violette Blanche, my best friend, the one I had poured my heart and soul into protecting for five years.

I picked up immediately, my voice softening as I asked, "Why aren't you asleep yet? Is your stomach hurting again, hm?"

My parents divorced when I was young, and I was raised by my grandmother.

I was starved for love and a sense of security. Naturally, I gave my whole life to anyone who showed me even a little bit of kindness.

Violette was the person I was closest to in this world, closer than family.

On the other end of the line, Violette paused, then she said, "Jeanne, I have something to tell you."

Her voice carried a strange sense of excitement mixed with a tinge of hesitance, as if she was avoiding something.

"Go ahead, I'm listening." I minimized the blueprint and leaned back in the chair. "Are you thinking of buying another bag? Or a cake? I'll buy it for you when I get paid."

I was always generous with her.

I wore cheap shirts, but I would pull all-nighters for two months just to get her a designer bag. I ate cheap cafeteria food every day, but I never forgot her go-to coffee order.

I always thought that's just what friends do for each other.

Then, she gently floated a sentence. "I'm getting married."

I froze completely. In the next second, joy rushed over me, and tears burned hot in my eyes.

"Really? Goodness, that's wonderful, Violette, I'm so happy for you!" I exclaimed.

But that happiness only lasted for a brief second.

I suddenly froze.

Marriage was such a big thing. Why was I the last one to know?

*****

My fingers moved on their own accord, pulling up my social media feed.

With just one scroll, my heart dropped like a stone.

Three days ago, a mutual friend had already showed off her wedding invite.

Last week, the group chat was buzzing about bridesmaids, gifts, and the venue.

Someone even shared photos from the scene. Violette was holding roses, her smile sweet and radiant.

Everyone else already knew. I was the only one in the dark, looking like a complete idiot.

My chest clenched. It was bitter and suffocating, like someone was choking me.

Violette rushed to explain, "I swear I didn't mean to hide it from you. Everything happened so quickly, my family arranged it, and I just wanted to surprise you..."

The word "surprise" landed like a blow, making it hard to breathe.

I opened my mouth. The ache of disappointment was right there, but I harshly swallowed it back down.

I was always like this, finding excuses for other people.

She was busy. There were too many things going on. She didn't mean it.

I managed a smile, my voice drifting. "I'm not mad. Congratulations."

She immediately relaxed, her voice sweet and soft. "You have to be my maid of honor. The one and only. No one could ever replace you."

My chest gave a little twitch, and most of that distance between us melted away.

"Alright, I'll be your maid of honor."

Once I hung up, the smile slipped right off my face.

Even with the city lights blazing outside, they couldn't touch the hollow pain inside me. I was the last to know. That fact quietly pricked at me.

I clicked on a saved link. It was a gold bracelet worth nearly ten thousand dollars.

I wanted to give her a gift she could wear for the rest of her life, to give our five years of friendship a proper send-off.

I opened my side gig app and took on three jobs in a row. Renderings, construction drawings, and a PowerPoint gig.

Every buck I earned got me closer to my goal.

My phone buzzed again.

It was Dennis Roberts, my boyfriend of four years.

The text read, [I'm pulling an all-nighter at work, and won't be coming home. Get some rest, okay?]

My fingers froze for a second.

For the past six months, he was always swamped with work.

Overtime, business trips, projects that kept him holed up at the office, sometimes he didn't even come home.

Our calls got shorter, his texts got colder, and we barely saw each other.

Anyone else would've made a fuss, but not me. I was too understanding, too considerate, and way too afraid of losing him.

He said his project was stuck, so without a second thought, I wired him the entire thirty thousand dollars my grandma left me.

That was my only safety net.

I looked at the chat box and typed back quietly, [Don't overwork yourself. Take care.]

I sent the message, then there was nothing. Not even a single reply.

I bent over my drawings again, the harsh lights casting my shadow long, lonely, and paper-thin.

My mind was set on one goal. To save up faster, finish the bracelet, and watch Violette find her happiness.

I didn't know a thing.

I didn't know that when Dennis said he was working late, he was really with Violette, helping her try on wedding dresses.

I didn't know that when Dennis said he was on a business trip, he was actually out with Violette, picking out their new home.