Chapter 5
The table was lit by candlelight, a bottle of red wine sat between them, and Emilia was sitting across from Rashad in a red dress I'd never seen her wear before.
Her hand was on top of his, right there on the table.
Rashad's expression shifted as soon as he saw me barge in.
"Galilea, please, just let me explain," Rashad blurted out. "Emilia's having a rough day. It's the anniversary of her dad's passing away."
Emilia leaned back in her chair, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
She didn't say a single word.
But that red dress, the bold lipstick, and the half-empty bottle of red wine on the table spoke louder than any excuse.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo.
Rashad quickly stepped in front of me, his voice tense and defensive. "What are you doing? Can you calm down?
"It's the third anniversary of Emilia's dad's death. She can't deal with it by herself. What's wrong with me having dinner with her?
"Do you have to cause a scene and let everyone know? Is that what you want?"
Watching Rashad defend Emilia like that, I suddenly lost the urge to say anything.
I deleted the photo and turned to leave.
When I got back to the dorm that night, Emilia's bed was empty.
At two in the morning, Rashad called me.
"Emilia swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills and is having her stomach pumped," Rashad said, his voice cold. "Is this what you wanted?"
"Is this what you wanted?" Rashad said.
When I got to the hospital, Emilia was sprawled out on the bed, her face ghostly pale, an IV needle taped to the back of her hand.
She saw me and forced a weak smile.
"Galilea, don't blame yourself. I just couldn't deal with it," Emilia whispered. "I shouldn't have gone to Rashad on that day. It's all my fault."
The counselor and a few classmates gathered around the bed looked at me like I was the executioner.
Rashad stood by the window, his back to me.
He didn't even turn around.
That was when it hit me. She'd already won this game from the very beginning.
Every time she seemed to give in, it was actually a calculated move forward.
Every time she said, "It's not your fault," she was really making sure everyone thought, "It's all your fault."
And my awkward outbursts and accusations made me look more and more like some crazy, unreasonable girl in everyone's eyes.
After that, Rashad never mentioned breaking up with me.
But his attitude toward Emilia changed.
He stopped seeing her as just a little sister and started treating her like someone he needed to shield.
He began paying extra attention to her feelings. If she said she felt unwell, he'd get nervous. If she shed a tear, his heart would soften instantly.
I became the ticking time bomb, the one who might push her over the edge at any moment.
He spent less and less time with me, and his explanations got more and more perfunctory.
That winter, in my senior year, I was the one who called it quits.
He was silent for a long time before finally saying, "I'm sorry."
He didn't try to stop me.
I smiled and said it was fine.
But after I turned away, I realized my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Three months after we broke up, the news that he and Emilia were together spread like wildfire through the whole department.
Everyone said, "This is how it should have been all along."
Everyone thought Emilia was the right one for Rashad, and I was a bump in the road between them.
The private room came alive again.
Someone pulled out their phone to show Emilia the wedding photos, and everyone crowded around, showering her with compliments.
"Emilia, your profile in this shot is gorgeous. Rashad's really lucky."
"When's the wedding? Do you still need bridesmaids?"
Emilia smiled and answered every question with warmth and poise, never slipping up.
Every now and then, she'd glance at me and then quickly look away, like she was afraid I'd get upset.
That kind of "thoughtfulness" made me sick. It was way worse than any kind of mockery.
Kayla suddenly leaned in and whispered something to Emilia. Emilia hesitated for a moment, then, like she'd finally made up her mind, stood up, holding her juice glass, and walked over to me.
"Galilea, there's something I want to talk to you about," Emilia said.
I looked at her.
"Rashad and I are getting married next month, and we're still one bridesmaid short," Emilia said.
She paused for a moment and continued, "I'd like you to be my bridesmaid."
The noise in the room faded, and people started to perk up and listen.
"I know you might think I'm being a bit thick-skinned asking you this, but I'm honestly sincere," Emilia said.
Her eyes got a bit misty.
"All these years, I've always felt bad about what happened between us. If you show up, it'll mean you've forgiven me," Emilia said. "Your blessing would mean the world to me."
Her voice shook a little, and her eyes were so sincere, anyone who didn't know better would be moved.
I was way too familiar with that look.
Every time she shoved me toward the abyss, she had that exact same expression.
"No," I said, flatly.
Emilia wavered, almost losing her balance. "Galilea."
"I said no. Your wedding, your bridesmaid. What's it got to do with me?" I replied.