The night my girlfriend, Ava, won Pop Artist of the Year for the third time in a row, she stood on the Aria Awards stage and announced her retirement. She left the world with one final song, a haunting ballad titled simply, Aiden. The internet exploded. The world buzzed, speculating about the identity of this mystery man. A moment later, Ava’s official account updated: “In memory of my lost first love.” The comment section flooded with tearful emojis and condolences. In that instant, my heart turned to ash. But I didn't fly into a jealous rage or demand answers like I used to. Instead, on the day of our wedding, I boarded a flight to another continent. And that’s when Ava, the untouchable queen of pop, finally broke. She crossed an ocean to beg me to come back. 1 When Ava got home, I was glued to the couch, controller in hand, deep in a video game. She despised it. Called it childish, a dead-end hobby for guys with no ambition. For her, I’d walked away from a booming career in esports, said goodbye to my teammates, and dedicated myself to being the man behind the superstar. She paused in the entryway, the motion of slipping off her heels hesitating for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t say anything. She walked over to the couch and tossed an exquisitely wrapped gift box onto the cushion beside me. “Happy birthday.” “Oh. Thanks.” She froze, clearly not expecting such a flat response. Every year before this, my birthday turned me into an excited kid. I’d pester her for gifts, for hugs, for attention. “Aren’t you going to open it?” “No need. I love it,” I mumbled, my tone dismissive as I reached for my controller to unpause the game. “Caleb!” Her voice shot up, sharp and angry. She snatched the controller from my hands and slammed it onto the hardwood floor. “What the hell is your problem?” I rose from the couch, my face a cold, emotionless mask. “I don’t have one.” Then I turned and walked back to my room, leaving her standing alone in the living room. I caught a flash of bewilderment in her eyes, a flicker of something that looked almost like panic. Tonight was her awards ceremony. It was also my birthday. I had reservations at our favorite Italian restaurant. I had a ring hidden in my jacket pocket. I was going to propose, to give her the surprise of her life. On the way to the restaurant, I was scrolling through my phone, looking for news about her win. The number one trending topic was a photo of her on stage, trophy in hand. I was about to tap on it when the next headline stopped my heart. “AVA’S NEW ALBUM ART REVEALED—A SECRET LOVER?” My thumb trembled as I clicked the link. The album cover was a photo of her with another man. He was handsome, with fine features and a gentle smile, dressed in a simple white shirt. Ava was nestled in his arms, her face radiant with a kind of pure, unadulterated happiness I’d never seen before. This wasn’t just some random guy. It was Aiden. Aiden. Her high school obsession. The one that got away. A ghost she could never let go of. A man who had been dead for over a year. My hands shaking, I played the interview clip, desperate for some rational explanation. But every word she spoke was a knife twisting in my gut. “This album is a gift for him,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, tears welling in her eyes. “He was the love of my life. We promised we’d get married on his 28th birthday…” On screen, she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. And in my car, a chilling numbness washed over me, as if I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. 2 Messages from my old coach started blowing up my phone, a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Are you serious? You’re not worried about what’s-her-name getting pissed? You ditched the team, your brothers, for her. Now you’re saying you want back in? I’m not buying it for a second!” I managed a bitter smile. “She won’t be a problem. My focus is 100% on the game now.” “Bullshit! The amount of effort you put into chasing Ava was more than you ever put into a tournament. And now you’re telling me it’s all about the game?” “If you come back for a few days and then bail on us again, I’ll kill you myself!” “I won’t. This was always my dream. I’m not giving it up again.” The truth is, Ava was my first love, too. Back in high school, my dad went to prison for manslaughter, and our world came crashing down. My mom couldn't handle the fallout and took her own life. At school, kids treated me like a leper. They threw rocks at me, called me the son of a killer. I was drowning in despair, suffocating in grief. It was Ava who pulled me out of that abyss, time and time again. She stood up for me when I was bullied, offered me comfort when I felt utterly alone. “Caleb, don’t listen to them,” she’d said, her voice a gentle but firm anchor in my storm. “What happened with your dad was an accident. You have your own life to live. You have to live it for your mom, too. Live it well.” Her words were a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. A warmth spread across my back as Ava’s arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me from my thoughts. For a fleeting moment, my resolve softened. “Caleb,” she murmured against my shoulder. “For the wedding… let’s just have a simple dinner with a few friends. No need to invite extended family or make a big deal out of it.” I closed my eyes, hiding the bitterness that welled up inside me. “Okay.” “And one more thing,” she said, her tone shifting, becoming more hesitant. “About the marriage license… maybe we should wait a few years before we make it official. I know I’m retiring, but the spotlight is still on me. If news got out that I’m officially married, it could hurt my brand.” Seven years. We had been together for seven years. And in the end, I wasn’t even worth a piece of paper. “Okay.” My compliance seemed to satisfy her. She leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, and her lips met my cheek. “What’s wrong?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I’m just tired.” I shut my eyes, feigning sleep. A sickening thought began to creep into my mind. In the haze of all those passionate nights, when she whispered my name, was she really seeing my face? Or was she seeing his? The question devoured the last shred of warmth I had left for her. 3 I woke up the next morning to an empty apartment. Ava was already gone. My phone screen lit up. A message from Coach: “Training camp in Paris starts in a few days! I booked your ticket!” I glanced at the date on the ticket. It was for the same day as my wedding. Seven days. This hollow, half-assed wedding suddenly seemed utterly pointless. I began to pack, moving like an automaton. Seven years wasn’t a lifetime, but it wasn’t short, either. Yet, the sum of my possessions in her apartment was shockingly small. Good thing we never got married, I thought grimly. Would’ve made this even messier. I decided I had to end it, to tell her face-to-face. I smoked one cigarette after another, the smoke coiling around me like ghosts of the past. I saw myself seven years ago, young and naive, proudly bringing Ava home to meet my teammates. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” I’d announced, my heart swelling with pride. “You’d better be nice to her.” They’d all laughed and teased me about being whipped. I just stood there, grinning like an idiot, a sweetness spreading through my chest. My phone rang, shattering the memory. It was Ava’s manager. “Caleb, Ava’s had too much to drink. Can you come pick her up? I’m sending you the address now.” When I got to the bar, she was completely wasted, making a scene. “Ava!” I called out, approaching her. She squinted at me, her eyes unfocused. “Who are you? What gives you the right to tell me what to do?” One of her friends recognized me and rushed over to intervene. “Ava, you’re drunk. That’s Caleb, your boyfriend!” “Caleb?” Her expression turned vacant. “No… you’re not my Caleb. My Aiden would never wear a color like this…” Her drunken gaze swept over me, thick with disgust. “My Aiden… he only wore white shirts. He had the kindest smile, and he played the guitar…” She reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of my face as if she were seeing someone else entirely. I stood frozen, a pain so sharp it stole my breath piercing through my chest. “You’re not him,” she slurred, shoving me away with a look of pure revulsion. “You’re an imposter. A pathetic gamer who could never be him.” Of course. That’s why she always insisted I wear white shirts. That’s why she was never quite satisfied with my looks, even suggesting plastic surgery once. That’s why, the night I confessed my feelings all those years ago, she had cried and held me, calling out Aiden’s name. It all made sense now. I wasn’t her lover. I was a substitute. A ridiculous, laughable stand-in to fill the void he’d left behind. A choked laugh escaped my lips, but tears streamed down my face. I turned to her friends, my voice polite and steady. “Please take care of Ava. I’m leaving.” I paused at the door. “And when she sobers up, tell her we’re over.” I walked out without looking back. If I had stayed a second longer, I would’ve shattered completely. 4 Back at the apartment, I started gathering my things, ready to throw them all away. My eyes landed on a framed photo on the nightstand. It was of the two of us. In the picture, I was wearing a white shirt, my hair perfectly styled, a shy smile on my face. I looked like a different person. It was taken seven years ago, not long after we first got together. She had insisted on a professional couple’s photoshoot. I’d asked her why. “I want to capture this perfect moment,” she’d said, beaming. “So when we’re old, we can look back at these pictures and remember how happy we were.” A strange impulse made me ask, “Ava, do you love me?” She paused, then smiled. “Silly. Of course I love you. Why else would I be with you?” Her smile, her tone—it was all so genuine, so sincere, that it left no room for doubt. Click. The camera shutter captured our moment of blissful ignorance forever. Now, seven years later, I finally understood. It was all a lie. Ava’s love was never meant for me. I tossed the frame into a trash bag. Then I remembered my suitcase, filled almost exclusively with white shirts. I pulled them out, one by one, and threw them in the bag as well. I hated them. I much preferred soft cotton t-shirts. “I’ll buy new ones later,” I muttered with a self-deprecating laugh. Just as I was in the middle of my purge, the front door opened and Ava stumbled in. She looked more sober now, though a flush still lingered on her cheeks. “Make me some tea to sober up,” she commanded, not even glancing my way. My voice was flat. “We’re out of tea.” She stopped, finally seeming to register my cold tone. She looked up, her expression confused, as if wondering why her order wasn’t being followed. She didn’t remember mistaking me for someone else at the bar. She didn’t remember the humiliating things she’d said. Or maybe, she just didn’t care. She rubbed her temples, annoyed. “Then order something. I want—” “Ava, let’s break up.” She frowned. “What did you say?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Stop messing around. We’re getting married in a few days.” I laid it all out. “Ava, I’m not Aiden. The person you want to marry has never been me.” A flicker of panic crossed her eyes. Her voice softened. “The wedding isn’t canceled. Caleb, don’t be angry. I promise I’ll never mention him again, okay?” When she lied, she always glanced to her left, as if reading from a script only she could see. She probably didn’t even know she did it. “Ava, can’t we just let each other go?” “Caleb, what are you trying to say?” Her voice hardened again. “I’ve already sent out the invitations. Don’t you dare humiliate me.” Right. She was a superstar. She couldn’t be embarrassed. “Aiden is dead,” she snapped, her patience gone. “Why are you so obsessed with him?” I gave a bitter laugh. “But he’s not dead to you, is he?” He was gone, but he lived on in her heart, occupying a space I could never hope to touch. I looked her straight in the eye. “Ava, it’s been seven years. Was there ever, even for a single moment, a time when you truly loved me?” She looked away, irritated. “Don’t ask such stupid questions. If I didn’t love you, why would I have stayed with you for so long?” A non-answer. Which was an answer in itself. Suddenly, the whole thing felt pointless. This farce had to end. “Fine,” I said calmly. “If you insist, we’ll get married.” Ava seemed to let out a breath of relief. “Caleb, don’t talk about breaking up again. I might actually take you seriously next time. I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.” She fled into the room as if escaping a threat. I just smiled, a hollow, empty gesture. It didn’t matter to me where she slept. I had no intention of showing up to the wedding anyway. 5 I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat parched. As I fumbled my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, I heard the faint sound of a voice coming from the guest room. “Don’t worry, I’ve calmed Caleb down. He won’t find out…” My heart dropped, and I froze in the hallway. “No, it’s fine. We agreed not to get the marriage license yet. There’s no way he’ll find out that Aiden and I were already legally married.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She married him. She actually married Aiden. Ava kept talking, her voice low. “Aiden is my husband. Caleb doesn't deserve that title.” Through the crack in the door, I saw her holding a marriage certificate, her gaze full of a deep, sorrowful affection. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Seven years ago, Aiden had a car accident that left him in a vegetative state. His family took him abroad for treatment. I had always assumed their story ended there. How naive I’d been. I staggered back to my room and lay awake until dawn. Ava left early the next morning. The moment she was gone, I searched the guest room and found it. The so-called marriage certificate. My hands trembled as I opened it. The date of marriage was written clearly: two years ago. Two years ago, my company sent me on a year-long assignment abroad. Before I left, I’d told her earnestly that I wanted to get married. She’d put me off, saying she was too busy with work. I, like a fool, believed her, telling her to focus on her career and that we could talk about it later. It turned out that while I was gone, she had been at his side. She had married a man in a coma. A profound weariness settled over me, so heavy I didn’t have the energy to speak or even think. Hours later, my phone rang. It was Ava. “Caleb, I’m swamped lately. For the wedding photos, I’ll just have someone Photoshop us together, okay?” I glanced at the date. I’d forgotten we were supposed to have our photos taken today. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Fine.” “I’ve also bought the rings, so you don’t need to worry about that.” She didn’t even want to pretend to try them on. The whole thing was a complete sham. “Oh, and the wedding outfits are being delivered to the apartment today. I probably won’t be home for the next few days, so just meet me at the venue on the day.” “Okay.” I hung up and closed my eyes, exhausted. Time was moving so fast. Only three days left until the wedding.
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