My fiancée photoshopped my head out of our engagement photos and replaced it with her first love. Then she posted it for all the world to see, with the caption: “A decade of waiting, finally answered today.” When I angrily confronted her, she was completely nonchalant. “What’s the big deal? It’s obviously photoshopped. Can’t friends have a little fun? It's normal.” The result? On our wedding day, every single one of Ava’s friends and family thought her first love was the groom. When I pulled Ava aside, begging her to acknowledge me as her fiancé, she pretended not to know me and wrapped her arm around the other man’s. Treated like some crazed wedding crasher, I was beaten until my ribs broke and rushed to the hospital. Lying in that hospital bed, my heart finally gave out. I dialed the number of the mother I hadn’t spoken to in three years. “Mom,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll do it. I’ll agree to the arranged marriage.” 1 During my hospital stay, my fiancée, Ava, didn’t call once. Instead, her first love, Justin, posted a picture to his social media. Curvy and stacked. Someone’s getting lucky tonight. The accompanying photo was of Ava, dressed in lace lingerie, leaning over to shave Justin’s face. The angle was deliberately provocative. The whole image was suggestive, designed to make your mind wander. The old me would have seen that photo and immediately called her, demanding to know why they couldn't respect boundaries, asking if she even remembered she had a fiancé, begging to know if she still loved me… But now? Staring at the picture, I felt nothing. I even managed to tap the ‘like’ button. A second later, my phone rang. It was Ava. She launched into her explanation. “Honey, don’t misunderstand. Justin’s hand got hurt at the wedding, I was just helping him shave, that’s all.” Hurt at the wedding? A cold laugh escaped my lips. Because Ava had replaced my face with Justin’s on our wedding photos, all the guests had assumed Justin was the groom. When I, the actual groom, had tried to get Ava to clarify things, to prove my identity, she’d announced to everyone, “The groom is Justin. This guy is just some pathetic dog who follows me around.” That’s when her friends and family had surrounded me, beating me to a bloody pulp. And Justin’s “injury”? He’d tried to snatch the boutonnière from my chest and pricked his finger on the pin. The difference between who she loved and who she didn’t was painfully, brutally clear. I was lying in a hospital bed, unable to move, while Justin was apparently incapacitated by a pinprick. A sharp, final pang of pain shot through my heart. In that instant, any remaining feeling I had for her vanished completely. “Mm,” I said into the phone. “I’m not misunderstanding.” “If that’s all, I’m hanging up.” But Ava, as if terrified I wouldn’t believe her, kept talking. “At the wedding, I just didn’t want Justin to feel embarrassed when everyone mistook him for the groom. That’s why I didn’t clear things up for you. Don’t be upset about it, okay? We can just have another wedding.” I listened silently. She was afraid of embarrassing Justin. What about me? “I don’t care,” I said, my voice flat. “You don’t need to explain.” Perhaps my lack of emotion, my failure to immediately forgive her as I always did, set her off. Her tone, previously apologetic, sharpened. “Ethan, I’ve already explained it to you. What is this attitude?” “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” I said nothing. My attitude? For all the years we’d been together, no matter what mistake she made, no matter how many of my boundaries she crossed, all she had to do was cry a little, act soft, and offer some flimsy excuse. I would instantly crumble, pulling her into my arms and comforting her. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it was my fault too. Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.” And now, after this, she still expected me to forgive her. A profound exhaustion washed over me. Every bone in my body ached as if it were broken. Her insistent questioning continued on the other end of the line. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to hang up when she added one more thing. “Oh, and check yourself out of the hospital tonight. You’re a grown man, what’s a little injury? Don’t be so dramatic.” “On your way home, pick up some ribs from that famous barbecue place across town. I’m craving them.” The barbecue place was in the north. Our home was in the south. A ninety-minute round trip. She really did see me as nothing more than an errand boy. 2 I checked myself out of the hospital. The cast was still on my arm, a dull ache throbbing beneath it. I had to take a cab home. My injured hand meant the fingerprint scanner wouldn't work, and I kept fumbling the password. Figuring Ava was home, I knocked. The person who opened the door was her first love, Justin. He welcomed me in with a broad, warm smile. “Ethan, you’re back! Ava’s in the shower.” He gestured to his hand. “Oh, man, it’s my fault. You know, my finger is injured, and Ava was worried I wouldn’t be able to use the fingerprint lock, so she changed the password.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s the anniversary of the day Ava and I first got together. I bet you didn’t know that. I’ll text it to you in a bit.” An anniversary? Ava couldn’t even remember my birthday, but she remembered the anniversary of her relationship with her first love. I looked at Justin. He was wearing the matching set of couple's pajamas that belonged to Ava and me. His hair was damp, his face cleanly shaven, and he was holding a hairdryer. Justin noticed my gaze. “Ava asked me to dry her hair for her. You have no idea, back when we were together, she used to insist on it. Couldn’t miss a single night.” He held up his hands placatingly. “Don’t get the wrong idea, we’re just friends now.” “If you’re not happy about it, here, you can do it.” Justin shoved the hairdryer into my injured hand. Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Ava emerged, wearing the same style of pajamas as Justin. She was toweling her hair dry. “Justin,” she said, “aren’t you going to dry my hair? Why aren’t you coming in?” Then, she saw me. Her face, flushed pink from the steam, instantly went pale. She rushed over to explain. “I was just tired, so I asked Justin to help me with my hair. Don’t misunderstand.” Honestly, there was nothing left to misunderstand. His hand was too injured to shave. Her arms were too tired to dry her own hair. Useless on their own, but a hundred percent willing to do it for each other. I handed the hairdryer back to Justin and walked toward the bedroom. Ava grabbed me, her voice sharp with panic. “Ethan, what is your problem? You wouldn't talk on the phone, and now you’re acting like this in person.” “Don’t push your luck!” Her grip on my wrist was crushing, completely disregarding my fresh injury. “And where are the ribs? Didn’t I tell you to get ribs?” “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Go out and buy them now!” The pain was sharp, and my patience finally snapped. “I’m not buying them!” I shook her hand off and continued into the bedroom. The sight that greeted me was a floor littered with clothes—a jacket, underwear—and on the bed, a pair of torn stockings and boxer shorts. And there, hanging from the frame of our wedding portrait, was a single, snapped black bra strap. 3 Ava scrambled in front of me, shutting the door. “I was just changing in here. It’s a bit of a mess.” “Go buy the ribs, and I’ll have the room cleaned up by the time you get back.” I gave her one last look, then turned and went into the guest room. The walls were thin. I could hear everything from the living room. “Ava, don’t be angry. I don’t have to have the ribs. Ethan’s in a bad mood, you shouldn’t make things harder for him.” “If you’re hungry, how about I cook for you?” “Oh, Justin, you’re just so generous and forgiving. Not like him. I tell him something a hundred times, and he still insists on defying me.” “Okay, okay. Let me dry your hair first. I’d be heartbroken if you caught a cold.” The whirring of the hairdryer started up. It was the perfect cover. I dialed the number of the mother I hadn’t spoken to in three years. “Mom,” I said, “about that arranged marriage you mentioned. I’ll do it.” My mother’s voice was filled with joy. “Oh, son, you’ve finally come to your senses! Your father and I are getting old, and you’re our only child. You have no idea… for that woman, you gave up your inheritance, everything. These past five years, your father’s hair has turned white with worry.” “We heard about what happened at the wedding. A woman like that is not worthy of you. She’s flighty and unfaithful, she doesn’t deserve you.” “But since you’ve agreed… how does the eighth of next month sound for the wedding?” My mother’s voice was now tinged with the frailness of age. My eyes welled up. I had been so foolish. I had thought love was everything. When my parents disapproved of Ava, I had run away with her without a second thought, cutting off all contact for five years. But all I ever had to do was turn around, and they were still there, waiting for me. “Okay,” I said, my voice thick. “I’ll wrap things up here and come home. You two can help me with the wedding preparations.” “Wedding? What wedding?” The guest room door opened without warning. I coolly hung up the phone and looked at Ava. She was holding a takeout container, which she placed on the nightstand. “What were you saying about a wedding?” “Didn’t I tell you we’d have to postpone it? Are you that desperate to get married? Afraid of ending up an old bachelor?” Seeing the anxiety on her face, I answered calmly, “I was just explaining the situation to a friend.” Ava visibly relaxed. She opened the takeout box, revealing the ribs inside. “You didn’t buy them, but Justin did.” “He was afraid you’d be upset, so he bought you a whole rack. Ethan, let’s just drop this, okay? Don’t be so unforgiving.” I covered my mouth and nose, turning my head away. Annoyance flashed in Ava’s eyes. “What is that reaction? Justin was kind enough to apologize, and you’re acting disgusted?” “Are you just going to waste his kindness? Ethan, don’t take this too far!” I took it too far? “You know I have a physical aversion to barbecue, don’t you?” 4 Back when Ava and I first ran away together, we had less than two thousand dollars to our names. To help me adjust to a normal life, Ava got me a job at a popular barbecue joint. At the time, she’d said, “Ethan, I love barbecue. If you work here, does that mean I’ll get to eat it all the time?” For that one sentence, I spent my days plucking feathers and cleaning hundreds of chickens, my body permanently steeped in the cloying, greasy smell. Over time, I developed a visceral disgust for it. Even the cooked meat made me sick. Back then, Ava would ignore the smell, throwing her arms around me the moment I got home. “Ethan, I don’t like barbecue anymore. Please, quit that job. I can’t stand to see you working so hard every day.” So, what is love? I told her to take the food away. Ava opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, all she could manage was: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I forgot.” She didn’t forget. She just didn’t love me anymore. In the past, when I came home from work, she would have my clothes washed and would scrub the whole apartment with disinfectant, just so I wouldn’t have to smell a hint of that greasy smoke. She once stood in hundred-degree heat wearing a stuffy mascot costume, handing out flyers just to buy me a birthday cake. She had accepted the simple ring I wove for her from blades of grass, tears streaming down her face as she said yes to my proposal, promising to be my wife. But you can’t chase the past. I took a deep breath, but the smell of the barbecue still drifted into my nose. I couldn’t stop myself from gagging. Ava quickly tied up the bag. “What do you want to eat, then? I’ll make you something.” I was about to say I didn’t need anything. A knock came at the door. “Ava, I spilled the container! I burned my hand! Can you take me to the hospital?” Hearing Justin’s voice, Ava immediately rushed to the door, her face etched with concern. “How could you be so careless? It’s all red! Your hands are so precious, we can’t let them get scarred.” Before she left, she remembered to toss a line over her shoulder to me. “Ethan, I’m taking Justin to the hospital. He’s a pianist. His hands can’t have anything happen to them.” The door slammed shut, leaving me in the silent room with the takeout container on the nightstand. After a moment, I picked it up and walked out to throw it away. Just as I reached the hall, I saw them by the elevator. Ava was holding Justin’s hand, blowing gently on the small red patch of skin. The elevator dinged. They stepped inside. A single door closed, separating two worlds. And sealing the end of our future together.
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