1 Twenty-two years. That’s how long we’d been inseparable, my childhood sweetheart and I. And finally, I was getting what I’d always dreamed of: a proposal from Ethan. Our friends, ecstatic, threw us a party, goading us to interlock arms for a celebratory toast. I shyly raised my glass, moving closer to Ethan. But the man who had only ever been gentle with me suddenly shoved me away. Hard. I crashed to the floor, the shards of my champagne flute slicing into my palm. Ethan just stared down at me, his eyes cold as he spat, "Have you no shame?" Later, on my way home from the hospital, I walked in on a scene that seared itself into my memory. There was Ethan, pinning his old flame, Lila, against the mattress of what was supposed to be our marital bed, his voice a low, desperate murmur. "Come back to me. Just say you'll come back, and you'll be the only one I marry." Watching them, so intimately entwined, a bitter regret washed over me. I had made a terrible mistake. To save myself from another, deeper humiliation, I decided to run. I would disappear on our wedding day. But after I left, the man who had so casually offered my place to another woman lost his mind, tearing the world apart to find me. "Candi, that overseas training program you mentioned… is the spot still open?" I stood under the sickly yellow glow of a streetlight, my voice tight as I fought to keep my emotions in check over the phone with my boss. Candi paused, confused. "It is. Why are you asking? I thought you were getting married." The breath I'd been holding finally escaped me. "Not anymore. Is the spot still mine if I want it?" "Of course! You're the best I've ever mentored. I'd be thrilled to have you," she said, her voice filled with a warmth that almost broke me. The moment I hung up, the dam burst. Sobs wracked my body, each one a tremor of pain. The conversation I’d overheard in our—in his—apartment played on a loop in my head, a slow, torturous dissection of my heart. After a long while, my emotions subsided, leaving me aware of the dress I was wearing. It was a size too small, a beautiful gown that now felt like a cage, squeezing the air from my lungs. I found a late-night clothing shop and changed out of it. It had been custom-made for me by Ethan. I’d loved it, despite the fact it never quite fit. As the sales clerk watched with a regretful look, I shoved the gown into a nearby trash can. It was astonishing, the sense of liberation that came from shedding something that didn't fit, something I had endured for far too long. Just as I stepped out of the shop, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from the security camera I’d installed in the apartment to keep an eye on the renovations. A camera had been disconnected. After a moment's hesitation, I reconnected it. The feed flickered back to life, and there was Lila, sauntering around the bedroom in the lingerie Ethan had bought for me. The very set I’d been too shy to ever wear. It looked, I had to admit, perfect on her. Her fingers trailed mockingly over the wedding photos of Ethan and me that lined the wall. The camera quality was sharp enough to capture the derisive smirk on her face. "If I hadn't come back, would you really have married her?" she purred. Ethan didn't answer. Instead, he began pulling the photos from the wall, tossing them carelessly into a corner of the closet. Lila smiled, settling back onto the bed. Her bare foot traced a line up Ethan’s calf. "You staged this whole grand proposal just to get my attention, didn't you? If you're going to keep playing the strong, silent type, I might just leave again." "Don't you dare," Ethan growled, the fire in him finally erupting. He pushed her back into the mattress, his gaze fierce and possessive. Lila just giggled, her arms snaking around his neck to pull him down. "I knew you could never forget me." Her voice was a triumphant whisper. "Tell me, is Anna genuinely that naive, or is she just playing dumb? The clothes you bought her were all my style, in my size. The wedding ring has my initials engraved on it. Even the design of this apartment is the one I told you I dreamed of. And she never suspected a thing." Ethan said nothing more. He just kissed her, and they fell into a desperate, tangled embrace. Boom. A firework exploded across the sky. But my own world had gone silent, a deafening roar in my ears. All this time, I thought he was just careless, forgetful about my size. My hand trembled as I pulled the ring from my finger. Using my phone's light, I searched its smooth surface. And there, on the inner band, were the tiny letters: L.S. In that instant, all the strength drained from my body. I couldn't even hold onto the ring. It slipped from my grasp, falling through a sewer grate with a series of metallic clinks. Each tiny sound was a hammer blow against my heart. No wonder he’d acted so strangely at the karaoke bar when Lila showed up. No wonder he hadn't cared that he'd hurt me. I was just a stand-in. A placeholder until the real star of his life decided to return. What a joke. I was the one who had been by his side for twenty-two years. I was the one who had supported him tirelessly for the eight years it took to build his company from nothing. And in the end, I was nothing more than a substitute for the one person in the world I despised. Their kiss ended, and Lila stroked his cheek. "Ethan, my love," she murmured. "On your wedding day… will you run away with me?" "You mean..." Ethan's eyes lit up. He gently brushed his finger over her nose, and they shared a conspiratorial smile. I shut off the screen and started to laugh. A ragged, broken sound that made passersby turn and stare. My heart felt like it had been crushed under a great weight, an agony so profound it was paralyzing. The cruelest part wasn’t being Lila’s replacement. It was knowing the man I loved had been plotting to humiliate me all along. Ethan, you are truly ruthless. 2 I sat on a roadside bench for a long time, until Ethan and Lila finally emerged from the building. When he saw me, Ethan’s arm, which had been wrapped around Lila, instantly dropped. "You're back? Why are you sitting out here? It's filthy." His face was a mask of disgust, and he didn't seem to notice my swollen, red-rimmed eyes. My gaze drifted to Lila, and he instinctively moved to shield her, a protective gesture that was painfully familiar. It was the same way he used to shield me from Lila when we were kids. Now, our roles were reversed. A bitter smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, Ethan launched into a hurried explanation. "Don't get the wrong idea. Lila had a bit too much to drink, so I just brought her back to rest for a while. She felt bad about it and insisted on leaving as soon as it got dark. I was just worried about her going home alone, so I offered to walk her." The man who never bothered to explain himself to me was suddenly a fountain of excuses, all for Lila. He felt like a stranger, not the person I’d spent twenty-two years of my life with. I took a deep breath, my voice laced with a sarcasm I couldn't hide. "If she really had any sense of propriety, she wouldn't have gone home with another woman's fiancé. And in case you haven't noticed, it's the middle of the night." Caught in his lie, Ethan’s face flushed with anger. "Anna, Lila is your sister, for God's sake. What are you trying to imply?" Her sister? My eyelashes fluttered. He dared to call the person who had stolen everything from me my sister. Had he forgotten what Lila did? Because of her mother, I was swapped at birth and spent seven years being abused by strangers. When my real parents finally found me, Lila’s lies and manipulations turned them against me, ensuring I never felt a shred of their love. She and her mother took everything, but that wasn't enough. They were the reason my hand was permanently damaged, shattering my dream of becoming an artist. I would never forgive Lila. And I would certainly never call her my sister. "She is not my sister," I retorted, my voice shaking with rage. "She's the daughter of a kidnapper, a monster." My defiance was met with a sharp slap across the face. "Anna, that's enough! Apologize to Lila. Now." "No." I stared into his eyes, my nails digging so deep into my bandaged palm that the wound reopened, staining the gauze red. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. The boy who used to get teary-eyed if I so much as scraped my knee had just struck me. For Lila. From behind Ethan, Lila shot me a triumphant smirk before her expression melted into one of fragile vulnerability. She tugged on his sleeve. "It's okay, Ethan. It's my fault. I never should have come here. Please, don't fight because of me." Ethan’s hand closed over hers, and his gaze on me turned to ice. "Anna, what happened back then was her mother's doing. It had nothing to do with Lila. It's been years. Why are you still holding onto it with such petty resentment?" I almost laughed. "That's rich, coming from you, Ethan. You saw the scars all over my body. You saw this hand," I held it up, "the hand that can no longer hold a paintbrush. And you call this being petty?" His face tightened, his public defense of her shattered. "Just look at yourself," he snarled, his voice stripped of all its former warmth. "So bitter and sharp-tongued. It's no wonder your own parents can't stand you." With a final, forceful push, he shoved me aside and walked away, his arm once again protectively around Lila. I stumbled back, my spine hitting a lamppost with a sickening thud. The pain left me doubled over, gasping for air. It was the third time he had laid a hand on me in a single day. When we were ten, Lila had used her own body to frame me, making my parents think I was a violent, hateful child. I had cried for days, and a ten-year-old Ethan had been the one to comfort me. His childish voice still echoed in my memory. ‘You’re wonderful, Anna. If they can’t see that, they’re blind. I see it. I’ll always, always choose you.’ I didn’t know then that his words would take root in my heart, growing there for two decades. And now, he was telling me that no one could ever love me. That "no one" included him. The words that had once been my salvation had transformed into a volley of poisoned arrows, all aimed directly at my heart. 3 I dragged my exhausted body back to the new apartment. A text from Candi came through with my flight information. It was scheduled for ten days from now—the morning of my wedding. My eyes fell on the little decorative robot on the counter, its face a cheerful, smiling screen. The large numbers on it displayed the countdown to our wedding. Now, it was a countdown to my escape. How fitting. It felt like destiny. Ethan came home to find me re-wrapping the bandage on my hand. His eyes flickered with something—maybe guilt?—when he saw the injury. He sighed, sinking to his knees in front of me. He gently unwrapped the gauze and began dabbing the cut with antiseptic. "You know, the reason I'm nice to Lila is for your sake," he began, his voice low and reasonable. "It's been so many years, and you still can't get over the hurdle with your parents. We're about to get married, and you have no family to attend, hardly any friends. You can't even scrape together a group of bridesmaids." I pursed my lips, saying nothing. He knew my story better than anyone. He knew every cut, every bruise, every betrayal. He had seen my parents choose Lila over and over until my heart was shattered. He had supported me when I finally cut them off. I wasn't without friends; he knew that. They were just married, with families of their own. We were the ones who had waited, because he wanted to establish his career first. I had waited for him, my twenties slipping away without a single word of complaint. And now, he was the one bringing it up, the one who found me lacking. The boy who once held me and whispered, ‘You only need me,’ had been swept away by the river of time. A sharp sting on my hand made me flinch, and I tried to pull away. He held on tight, giving me a look of gentle rebuke before bringing my hand to his lips and blowing softly on the cut. "Such a big girl, and you still can't handle a little pain. What would you ever do without me?" I watched his performance of feigned tenderness and started to question everything. Were all those years of warmth and care just a role he was playing, a part he’d become lost in? And was I the only one who had truly believed the script? "I was going to ask earlier," he said, "why did you change? Where's the evening gown?" "It was ruined. I threw it out." I had no desire to talk, but he seemed oblivious, chattering more than he had in years. After tossing the used cotton swab, he put away the first-aid kit, lecturing me as he went. "I apologized to Lila on your behalf for tonight. From now on, you need to think before you speak. Stop dragging up the past." I watched his back as he walked away and let out a soft, hollow laugh. "Ethan, there is no 'from now on' for us." "What?" He turned, a flicker of awareness in his eyes, but I had already looked down, busying myself with my phone. Back in the bedroom, the half-empty wall was a stark reminder of what had happened. The lingerie lay discarded on the bed. I picked it up and tossed it under the frame. Even so, the bed felt contaminated, filthy. The thought of them tangled on these sheets, their desperate, passionate embrace… A wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I retched, right there on the bed. Ethan emerged from the bathroom and saw the mess, his brow furrowing in annoyance. "What's wrong with you? Normal people find a trash can or a toilet when they feel sick. You just puke on the bed?" Seeing the ghastly pallor of my face, he softened his tone. "Well, looks like we'll have to sleep somewhere else tonight." He opened the closet to find a fresh set of sheets, accidentally knocking over the picture frames he’d stashed in the corner. They crashed to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. Guiltily, he bent to pick them up. "A couple of the photos fell down earlier," he explained, avoiding my eyes. "I was afraid they'd break, so I took them all down. Guess I ended up breaking one anyway. You should secure the nails better when you hang them back up." I gave a noncommittal hum and took the clean sheets from him, heading for the guest room. Ethan rubbed his nose, sighed, and resignedly began to clean up the mess. 4 I woke in the guest room to the sun high in the sky. Ethan hadn't come to find me last night, and for the first time in a long time, I had slept soundly. Stretching, I walked into the living room and saw a plate of breakfast on the table with a note beside it. Anna, I'm off to work. Don't forget to eat. Be good! The same old tenderness, the same old care. Except now, it didn't fill me with happiness. With my new perspective, the gesture felt tainted, part of a larger deception. I scraped the food and the note into the trash can without a second thought. Just after I finished my own breakfast, the robot assistant chirped a schedule reminder. I’d completely forgotten. Today was the day we were supposed to go to the wedding planner to choose my gown and finalize the decor. Apparently, Ethan had forgotten too. I dismissed the notification and spent the next two hours on my phone, methodically canceling every order for our wedding decor. I packed up everything that had already been delivered and arranged for it to be returned. What couldn't be returned, I threw away. Piece by piece, I erased myself from this apartment, just as I was erasing my love for Ethan from my heart. Soon, there was no trace I had ever lived in this house that was never truly mine. I was holding a beautiful, expensive photo album, about to burn it, when his call came. "Anna, we were supposed to try on wedding dresses and look at venues today. Why didn't you remind me?" "I forgot, too," I said flatly. There was a long silence on his end. He clearly hadn't expected that answer. Finally, he told me to get ready and that he was waiting downstairs. When I finally ambled down, I saw Lila was in the car with him. She was in the passenger seat, and she smiled at me as if nothing was wrong. I quietly opened the back door and slid in. Both of them flinched. Ethan’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror several times before he started making excuses. "I thought, since Lila has such great taste, we could ask for her help. It'll make things go faster. And, uh, she gets carsick, so I let her sit up front." I nodded and turned to look out the window. In a few days, I would be on a plane to another country, for who knew how long. I might as well enjoy one last look at this city. A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision caught my eye. Ethan was squeezing Lila’s hand. She squeezed back, and they engaged in a silent, playful tug-of-war. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep until we arrived. At the wedding planner’s office, as the designer pulled up the venue mockups, Lila plopped herself right down in the chair next to the computer. Ethan stood beside her, leaning in close. They murmured to each other, pointing at the screen, looking for all the world like a happy couple planning their future. I sat on a sofa across the room, feeling no desire to fight for my place. It was only after they had made all the decisions that Ethan seemed to remember I was there. He saw me on the sofa, looking completely detached, and his mood soured. "Why are you sitting so far away? Come over here and help." I glanced at the screen. "I’ve seen it," I said with a serene smile. "What you two picked out… it's perfect." Something in my tone must have set Lila off. She bit her lip, her face crumpling into a mask of hurt. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have come." With that, she bolted from the office. Ethan started to chase after her, but he stopped as he passed me. "I went to all this trouble to get Lila to help you, and this is how you act? What is your problem?" he hissed. "Fine. You can pick everything out yourself now." I couldn't take the injustice anymore. I shot up and grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him up short. He stumbled, nearly crashing into the glass door. I met his furious gaze with a calm of my own. "What exactly," I asked, "is it that I'm doing wrong?" He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just shook my hand off and stormed out after her. The designer looked at me with pity. "Ma'am," she asked gently, "would you like to choose a different theme? And for the dress… you don't need them. You should pick what you like." I gave her a grateful smile. "No, what they chose is fine. As for the dress… let him decide." When I got home, I picked up the beautiful photo album again. This time, without a flicker of hesitation, I tossed it into the fireplace.
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