My boyfriend, Liam, had just bought a gorgeous new condo downtown. As I was online, shopping for things to decorate our new home, a jewelry ad popped up on my screen. “Purchase a bracelet from our Luminous Collection and receive a matching pair of earrings, free.” Just a week ago, one evening, Liam had mysteriously produced a velvet box. Inside were those very earrings. I was thrilled. “What’s this for?” I’d asked him. He’d kissed my ear tenderly, murmuring that he was passing a boutique, saw them, and thought they’d look perfect on me. The silver bracelet in the ad looked painfully familiar. I pulled up my best friend Ava’s social media feed. And there it was. A post from that same day: [It feels so good to be cherished.] On her wrist was that exact bracelet. And I, like an idiot, had even commented on her post, telling her she had great taste and that her bracelet was from the same brand as my new earrings. Ava had replied, “Haha, what a coincidence, babe.” A dull ache pulsed in my chest, a bitterness so sharp it almost made me laugh. All the moments I thought were signs of his special affection for me… they were just someone else’s leftovers. I was just the fool holding the freebie, cheering for the main event. 1 It was the week before our engagement party. A group of us from college were at a karaoke bar, playing a rowdy game of Truth or Dare. The energy was high, and after a few rounds, everyone was buzzing. Then, the empty beer bottle spun and pointed directly at Liam. He gave a resigned smile. “Truth, I guess.” A few of our friends exchanged mischievous glances. One of them piped up, “Since you two are getting engaged next week, let’s ask something fitting. What are you planning to name your future kids?” The question made the tips of my ears burn. I instinctively glanced up at Liam. But my gaze met his distant, unfocused stare. For some reason, I found his expression unreadable, complex. He looked down, lost in thought for a moment before snapping out of it. He lifted his head, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “Haven’t thought of a full name yet, but for a nickname, I like Annie.” The moment he said it, the table erupted. Someone slammed their hand on the table, hooting, “That’s so sweet! You’ve actually got baby names picked out already!” Ava, sitting next to me, joined the laughter. “Annie. That’s a beautiful name.” I shyly peeked at Liam. His eyes flickered to Ava for a split second before darting away. Ava wrapped her arm around my shoulders, ready to share in my happiness like she always did. But I felt her hand, resting on my side, tighten its grip. I turned to her, thinking she was sad about her own past troubles. I quickly hugged her back and changed the subject, and the lively atmosphere returned. When the night ended, Liam and I went home. I was still glowing, secretly pleased by how seriously he was planning our future together. Before we went to sleep, I couldn't help but ask again, “When did you come up with that name? You never told me.” The rhythm of his breathing beside me hitched for a second. Then he pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around me. His familiar scent filled the air, his breath warm against my neck. “We’re getting engaged, aren't we? It’s only natural to think about our future kids.” “Still, I think it’s a really lovely name. How did you come up with it?” I murmured, feeling a little shy in his embrace. Liam didn’t answer right away. He just held me tighter. “We can talk about it later. Get some sleep. We have our engagement photoshoot tomorrow.” Figuring he was tired from the party, I didn’t press him. I closed my eyes and drifted off. But a cold sweat drenched my back as a nightmare ripped me from my sleep. I sat bolt upright, my hand pressed against my racing heart, trying to calm myself. That’s when I noticed it. In the dim light of our bedroom, Liam’s phone screen kept flashing to life, message after message rolling in. “Always check your boyfriend’s phone before the wedding.” A line from a stupid meme I’d seen earlier that day slammed into my mind. I never checked his phone. We’d been together for seven years, and I’d always felt cherished and secure. But staring at that glowing screen, a quiet, insistent voice in my head urged me on. As if guided by some unseen force, my fingers reached for it. Before I could even unlock it, another message preview popped up on the screen. I only needed a single glance. My blood turned to ice. A paralyzing numbness shot from my fingertips to the nape of my neck. 2 He probably thought I’d never check. The passcode was still my birthday. The moment the screen lit up, my fingers started to tremble uncontrollably. It was obvious the chat history had been cleared out. Scrolling up, I could only see the last two weeks. As I scrolled down from the top, a fresh wave of cold sweat broke out on my back. She had sent him a photo of herself in lacy lingerie. Liam’s reply: [So beautiful, babe. Kisses.] Further down, she complained about crippling period cramps. Liam had replied with a short, simple message: [I’m on my way.] A roaring sound filled my ears. My hands shaking, I checked the date and time of that message, then switched to my own phone. It was sent five minutes after I had texted Liam that I was at the clinic on an IV for terrible stomach pains, asking if he could come keep me company. An hour later, he had replied to me: [Sorry, babe, stuck in a meeting. Didn’t see my phone. I don’t think I can make it.] And I, being the understanding girlfriend, had told him not to worry. I’d navigated the clinic by myself, clutching my stomach in pain while I registered and paid the bills. It was the middle of summer, but I was shivering as if I’d been plunged into icy water. I kept scrolling down, my movements stiff and mechanical. Soon, I reached the most recent message. “I miss our Annie, Liam. I’m in so much pain.” So that was it. The foundation of our seven-year love story was riddled with holes, rotten to the core. Ava and I had been roommates in college, inseparable from the first day. We’d watched sunrises and sunsets together. We’d stayed up all night talking about life, about love. I had trusted her completely, considered her my truest friend. I even introduced her to Liam right after we started school. We had been together since our first year of high school, and by some miracle, we’d even ended up at the same university. The day I introduced them, they seemed to instantly dislike each other. Ava would even pick out the food Liam put on my plate and replace it with something she’d chosen. I brushed it off as the classic “best friend versus boyfriend” dynamic and tried my best to smooth things over. After dinner, she’d told me she still didn’t like him, saying he was just a pretty face and wasn’t good enough for me. Liam, for his part, looked equally disgusted with her. Sometimes the three of us would play video games together, but they would bicker constantly. Eventually, I stopped inviting them to play at the same time. Then, during our senior year, Ava came to me, trembling, and told me the devastating news. She wouldn't tell me how it happened, no matter how much I asked. All I could do was hold her tight. “Don’t be scared,” I had told her. “I’ll go with you.” She was terrified of anyone we knew finding out, so she refused to go to the reputable, top-rated hospital I’d researched for her. She insisted on a small, private clinic. During that time, my heart ached for her. For her mistake, for the pale, drawn look on her face. I made her different kinds of light, nourishing broth every day. Whenever I saw her staring blankly at the ceiling, I’d quietly bring her a warm glass of milk. And now, I gripped the phone, my nails digging into my palm. The newest message at the bottom of the screen was a dagger to my heart. I couldn’t breathe. Choking back a sob, I ran to the bathroom. All the happy memories we’d shared shattered like a mirror, the sharp, glittering fragments flying back to slash me to pieces. 3 I stared at my disheveled reflection in the mirror, my knuckles white as I gripped the edges of the sink. Calm down, I told myself. You have to be calm. What was I supposed to do now? Our families had already gone in together on the new condo. We’d met each other’s parents countless times. All our friends and relatives knew we were about to get engaged. The appointment for our engagement photoshoot was tomorrow. How could I possibly untangle this mess? My eyes fell back to the sickening, deceitful chat screen. Trembling, I tapped on Ava’s profile picture. Of course. Her feed was full of posts I’d never seen before. Visible only to Liam. In this secret timeline, she documented their secret romance. The first post was a screenshot from a video game. The caption read: [So much more fun playing with you without a third wheel in the way.] Liam had liked it and commented: [Stick with me, babe. I’ll always be your champion.] Another weekend, she posted a picture of their hands intertwined, showing off a pair of matching rings. A pink heart emoji punctuated the caption: [They say if you make rings with someone you love, you’ll be together forever.] I remembered asking Liam, more than once, if we could go to one of those ring-making workshops for a fun date. What had he said? Childish? Pointless? I zoomed in on the rings in the photo and it hit me— For a while, he had started wearing a silver chain with a ring on it as a pendant. When I’d casually asked where he got it, he’d answered nervously. Then, I never saw him wear it again. On Valentine’s Day, I was beaming over a single rose he’d casually bought from a street vendor. Meanwhile, she had posted a picture of a massive bouquet of ninety-nine red roses. Her caption: [Sometimes I’m so jealous of her for having you all those years before I did.] Liam’s comment was a kissing-face emoji, followed by: [I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.] I scrolled further up. It was the night of Ava’s birthday. On her public feed, the one I saw, it was just a standard nine-photo collage of her party. Liam, trying to keep up appearances, hadn't even liked it. But here, on this secret feed, was a single photo. The caption: [The best birthday present.] The picture was of a man’s face in profile, eyes closed in sleep, nestled against a rumpled duvet. It was Liam. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I clutched the phone, gasping for air. That night, Ava had thrown a birthday party for a few friends. She’d had too much to drink, and I was worried about her getting home safely. I asked Liam to drive her home. At the time, I was worried he’d refuse, given how much he supposedly disliked her. He did put up a bit of a fuss, but eventually, he grudgingly agreed. After dropping her off, he called to tell me something urgent had come up at work and he had to go to the office. He didn’t come home that night. How could I have been so blind? The two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other—my best friend and the man I loved—had been deceiving me all along. Her private feed was a diary of their secret life, a love story unfolding in the shadows. It was as if I was the one who had intruded on their relationship. Her posts were set to be visible for a year. I had no idea how long their affair had been going on. This secret, forbidden relationship had been thriving right under my nose, a toxic vine growing wild and unchecked in a space only the two of them could see. 4 The day I won a national award for a competition I’d entered, I took my best friend and my boyfriend out to celebrate. Now, looking at her private feed, I saw the photo from that night: her high heel hooked around his pant leg under the table. I saw the picture she took when I’d gone to pay the bill: her planting a soft kiss on Liam’s cheek. And when I came back to the table, they were back to ignoring each other, acting as if they couldn’t stand the sight of one another. They were getting a thrill from the danger, from the taboo. On her birthday, while I was at home waiting for my boyfriend to return from his “emergency” at work… She was receiving what she called “the best birthday present.” A last-minute work crisis? Such a flimsy excuse, but it had been enough to override my trust. I doubled over the sink, dry-heaving. And then, later, when I took a week off from my own life to take care of her in the hospital… When I was trying to comfort her, to cheer her up, helping her curse the name of the spineless man who’d done this to her… Was she just looking at a clown? That day, Ava had posted: [You once told me life held the promise of spring peace and summer quiet, of autumn serenity and winter calm. But in the end, I couldn’t keep our little one.] Liam hadn’t commented. The cleared chat history hid whatever comforting words he must have sent. Every word was a nail in my heart, but I forced myself to keep reading through the stabbing pain. So the name he’d chosen had nothing to do with me. The embryo I had helped my best friend get rid of… its name was Annie. The irony was suffocating. If I had never found out, would he have suggested we give our future child that same name? I slid down to the cold bathroom floor, unsure if I was feeling more anger or more sorrow. Scenes from our past flashed through my mind like a chaotic movie reel. The whole thing was so absurd I almost wanted to laugh. This is it. It has to end. I quickly typed out a message to my parents, then canceled tomorrow’s photoshoot appointment. Every tap of the screen felt like a hammer blow, sealing my fate. As I stared blankly at the screen, another message from Ava popped up on Liam’s phone. “I’m so sad. Can you come over and be with me?” Even knowing everything, seeing it happen in real-time was a fresh kind of agony. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist. I scrambled back to the sink and twisted the faucet on full blast. Cold water splashed onto my face. The roar of the water mixed with my choked sobs, and my ears began to ring. The noise finally woke Liam up. “Rachel? Rachel? What’s wrong?” I heard his footsteps approaching the bathroom door. I wiped the water from my face, smoothed my clothes, and ran my fingers through my hair. Then I opened the door, looked straight at Liam, and pressed the voice note button on his phone. “Of course, babe. I’m on my way. And just so you know, there are no refunds on this offer.” 5 A soft ding confirmed the voice message had been sent. Liam stared at me for a few seconds, his face slack with confusion. Then, as realization dawned, he lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand. I tilted my head, savoring the look on his face. He stared at the sent message, then back at me. Panic and desperation warred in his expression, his mouth twisting into a stiff, unnatural smile. “Rachel, listen to me, I can explain. It’s not what it looks like…” His voice was just noise. I pushed past him and walked out of the room. I pulled out my suitcase and looked around our cozy little home. We’d picked out that wardrobe together. The wallpaper was my favorite color. The matching pairs of slippers and toothbrushes—every little detail was a cruel reminder of the beautiful dream that had just been shattered. I forced myself to stop looking and started mechanically packing my things. Liam was still behind me, babbling excuses. The zipper of my suitcase made a sharp click as I pulled it shut. I stood up. Liam was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He reached a hand out as if to stop me, but then let it fall. “Rachel… please, just give me a chance. Don’t go.” I looked up, taking one last, long look at the man I had loved for seven years. The same familiar face, the same features that, for a fleeting moment, overlapped with the image of the boy I had fallen for all those years ago. But then, images of him and Ava flooded my mind, crushing the last vestiges of emotion I had left. The one who loves is always willing to forgive. The one who doesn't is always looking for a thrill. My love had blinded me to his faults, and in doing so, had fanned the flames of his betrayal. I let out a soft sigh. “Get out of my way.” On the way to the airport, my phone buzzed incessantly. I silenced it and stared out the window, watching the world blur past. Right before boarding, I finally glanced at the messages. There were calls and texts from my parents, from Liam, and from Ava. I only replied to my parents, telling them not to worry. A while back, a senior from my college who I was close with had asked me to join her in starting a business in Seacrest City. The project was perfectly aligned with our major, and the founding team was made up of the top students from our year’s competitions. They had the funding and the management sorted out; all they needed was my technical expertise. I had turned her down, saying I was planning to get married and settle down here. The moment my flight landed in Seacrest, I called her. She was ecstatic. “This is amazing! You’re a lifesaver, Rachel. I can’t wait to see you.” This strange, new city was about to become the first chapter of the rest of my life. 6 My first day at the new company was a whirlwind of meetings and handovers. The jam-packed schedule seemed to dilute my pain, spreading it thin until it was almost manageable. When I accidentally opened my message history, the red notification dots revealed a long, rambling essay from Liam. His tone shifted from desperate pleading to a pathetic attempt to save face, and finally, to frustrated anger when I didn’t reply. “Rachel, it’s not what you think with Ava. You’ve completely misunderstood!” “We were supposed to have our photoshoot today. Where are you?” “I just made a mistake, the same mistake any man would make!” “Please come back. Can we just talk about this?” I calmly read through his ridiculous messages, a wave of disgust washing over me, eclipsing the dull ache in my heart. If I can’t fix the problem of your infidelity, I can at least fix the problem of you. The next day, as I was online shopping for things for my new apartment, a jewelry ad popped up on my screen. “Purchase a bracelet from our Luminous Collection and receive a matching pair of earrings, free.” That night, when Liam said he had a little surprise for me, I was so happy, thinking it was just one of his sweet, spontaneous gestures. I wore them every day. I even took selfies with them on. A cold realization washed over me. I navigated to Ava’s social media feed. And there it was. A post from that same day: [It feels so good to be cherished.] On her wrist was that exact bracelet. And I had even commented on her post, praising her good taste, blissfully pointing out that her bracelet was from the same brand as my earrings. Ava’s reply: “Haha, what a coincidence, babe.”
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