The eve of my wedding, Sarah posted a photo set on her social media. She was wearing a million-dollar custom gown, and beside her, kissing her forehead, was Tedd. The caption read: “Thank you to my dearest Tedd for being by my side since we were kids and making my bridal dreams come true!” The comments were a waterfall of congratulations, many from accounts I recognized. I blended right in, adding a comment of my own: “Since you love my fiancé and my wedding dress so much, consider them a gift.” 1 A second later, my phone rang. It was Tedd. He didn’t offer an explanation; he launched straight into an accusation. “Ava, you know Sarah is an influencer. What the hell was that comment? Are you trying to ruin her? Delete it. Now.” In the background, I could hear Sarah’s theatrical sobs. “Tedd, it’s all my fault. I’ll take the dress off right now. I’ll go apologize to Ava, I’ll beg her to forgive me!” Tedd, of course, wouldn’t hear of it. His voice softened as he soothed her. “No, don’t. If you like it, wear it. It’s just a dress. Why should you apologize? Ava’s the one who’s out of line. She should be apologizing to you.” It’s just a dress. The words made me laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. This “dress” was a year of my life. A million-dollar couture creation that embodied every dream I had for my marriage. I’d been involved in every step, from the initial sketches to selecting the fabrics. I’d flown to Paris and spent a month with the head designer to perfect every detail. Watching it take shape was like watching a blueprint of my future life being built, stitch by delicate stitch. When the boutique called to say it was ready, I was ecstatic. I wanted to try it on for Tedd immediately, but he told me he was stuck in an important meeting at work and couldn’t get away. I’d have to reschedule. I believed him without a second thought, disappointed but understanding. I didn’t realize what a fool I’d been until Sarah’s post went live. The pictures were perfect. A nine-photo carousel of them holding hands, embracing, him kissing her forehead. They looked so intimate, so right together. They’d even put on the wedding rings—my wedding rings—on their left hands. The way they smiled into each other’s eyes radiated a love so palpable that anyone would call them a perfect couple. And Sarah, a minor influencer with over a million followers, knew how to work it. The post exploded. Within minutes, tens of thousands of comments flooded in. “OMG, congrats! Our Sarah finally found her prince!” “He’s so handsome, she’s so beautiful! A match made in heaven! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!” “That DRESS is stunning! It looks so expensive, it’s perfect for you, Sarah!” “Childhood sweethearts to husband and wife! So sweet, I’m obsessed with you two!” “That diamond on her ring is massive! True power couple!” … I even saw comments from a few of Tedd’s best friends. Amidst the sea of joyous celebration, I was the only one not smiling. Because the woman in my dress, being praised as the beautiful bride, was wearing my life. And the man they called her groom was my fiancé. Seeing that absurdly perfect, utterly devastating scene, I finally understood. Tedd wasn't too busy for a wedding dress fitting. He was just too busy to have one with me. He had all the time in the world to take another woman to try on my bespoke gown and then plaster their love all over the internet. Did it never even cross their minds that I would see it? In less than an hour, the post had garnered tens of thousands of comments. I called Tedd’s phone again and again. I tried calling Sarah. No one answered. As the world cheered for a lie, I felt like I aged a lifetime. I waited for a call, a text, any explanation from either of them. Nothing came. But I saw them, active in the comments, replying happily to their fans. In that moment, something inside me snapped. He didn't care. He wasn't worth it. So, under that viral post, I typed my comment: “Since you love my fiancé and my wedding dress so much, consider them a gift.” And just like that, after an hour of silence, the man I couldn't reach suddenly called me back. To hear them completely ignore their own betrayal and instead declare me the villain… the sheer hypocrisy of it was so astounding, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 2 My laughter, however, seemed to enrage Tedd. The line went silent for a beat, then Sarah’s crying intensified, hitting a new, hysterical pitch. When Tedd spoke again, his voice was a low growl, vibrating with fury. “Ava. Delete the comment and apologize to Sarah. Or this wedding is off.” “Fine,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “Good. I’ll let it go this time. But don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again. You used to be so much more reasonable.” “I meant,” I clarified, speaking slowly and deliberately, my grip tightening on the phone, “the wedding is off. Sarah loves the dress, right? She can have it. The price is one million dollars. As for you… she can have you for free.” Tedd was silent, clearly not expecting me to call his bluff. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with suppressed anger. “It’s just a dress, Ava. And I’ve told you a million times, Sarah is like a sister to me. Are you really going to be this dramatic?” He’d used that excuse so many times it had become a nauseating mantra. “Yes,” I said. “I am.” From the other end, Sarah’s saccharine voice piped up. “Tedd, don’t be mad. She’s just misunderstood, you know how women can be. Just be sweet to her, and she’ll come around.” Her attempt at peacemaking only fanned the flames of his arrogance. “Be sweet to her?” he scoffed. “Who the hell does she think she is?” An interesting question. “I’d like to know the same thing, Tedd,” I shot back. “When you were doing all this, who did you think I was? Am I not your fiancée? We were supposed to get married next month!” My words, meant as an accusation, were misinterpreted as a plea. “See, Tedd?” Sarah cooed. “I told you. She loves you too much to stay mad.” “Hah,” Tedd sneered. “It’s too late for regrets, Ava. This is on you. Unless you apologize to Sarah right now and gift her the dress, this isn’t over.” I sighed. Was it because I loved him more that they felt so invincible? Even now, there wasn’t a shred of remorse in his voice. I clung to one last, desperate thread of hope. “Sarah isn’t the one getting married, yet she gets to wear a bridal gown. What about me? The actual bride-to-be?” “It’s a dress!” he repeated, exasperated. “The boutique is full of them. Just pick another one. It’s just a wedding.” Then, as if bestowing a great mercy upon me, they began to decide my fate for me. “Sarah, you have good taste. Just find something for her. It’s not like it matters, she’ll only wear it for a day.” “Okay, Tedd, I’ll pick one out for Ava! Hmm, this one is tough… This one has a beautiful neckline, but she doesn’t have the… assets… to fill it out. Oh, and the train on this one is gorgeous, but Ava’s too tall, it would look awkward on her…” Listening to Tedd’s dismissive tone and Sarah’s backhanded insults, the last bit of my heart turned to stone. “Don’t trouble yourselves,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “I’m not getting married. And we… are over.” That finally did it. Tedd exploded. “Ava, that’s enough! We’re already being so generous, and you’re still being impossible! Fine! It’s over! But don’t you come crawling back. If it weren’t for your family forcing me, I never would have been with you in the first place!” News to me. I had no idea he felt that way. No wonder he’d always been so cold and distant with my parents and me. I’d mistaken his disrespect for a cool, reserved nature, a product of a difficult childhood. Turns out, he was just an ungrateful hypocrite. I refused to argue with him any longer. I simply hung up the phone. I didn’t realize that in that short time, my comment had sent the internet into a frenzy. “Wait, what’s happening? Is Sarah a homewrecker? No way.” “Impossible. You guys forget, Sarah is an heiress. The person who commented has a completely empty profile. Probably just some delusional fan.” “Let’s wait for Sarah to say something. I trust her!” … I watched the debate unfold, amazed. What was there left to say? I had, once again, underestimated their shamelessness. 3 A few minutes later, Sarah responded. “I don’t know how I offended this person, but I don’t understand why she wants to hurt me like this.” Simultaneously, Tedd posted: “I have no relationship whatsoever with this woman.” Soon, their friends chimed in, one by one, attesting to the fact that Tedd and Sarah were childhood sweethearts, their love as deep as the ocean. To cap it all off, a user claiming to be an employee of the bridal boutique posted photos of Tedd and Sarah at their fitting, along with a picture of a receipt signed with Tedd’s name. The evidence was overwhelming. I was a liar. The online sentiment shifted in an instant, and a wave of hatred crashed down on me. “Desperate much? Always trying to steal someone else’s man.” “Exactly! Sarah’s feed is full of sweet moments with her Tedd. This woman is a pathetic clout chaser, thinking we’re all blind.” “She’s an embarrassment to women everywhere. Why can’t she be more like Sarah? An independent, successful career woman who also happens to be an heiress!” … I could dismiss the rest of it. Sarah’s fake persona wasn't new. Tedd’s denial, technically, was now true. Their sycophantic friends were just a pack of jealous freeloaders. But the bridal shop… how could they lie like that? I signed the contract. I paid the bill. How dare they? Tedd had never transferred me any money. Were they planning to just steal my dress and slander my name? I immediately called the boutique. The moment I gave my name, the line went dead. The sheer audacity of it made me laugh. Is this how they treated a VIP client who had just paid them a million dollars? Fueled by a white-hot rage, I got in my car and drove straight there. When I walked in, the sales associates, who knew me perfectly well, just gathered in small clumps, pointing and whispering. No one came to help me. “Get your manager out here!” I had to shout it three times before a tall, thin woman emerged from the back, her face a mask of contempt. “Well, look what we have here. It’s the delusional fan girl. What are you doing here? We don’t have any men for you to stalk in this store.” Her words were met with snickers from the other employees. “Where is my dress?” “Are you sick in the head? Why are you so obsessed with other people’s things? The dress was picked up already.” I took a deep breath. “Who picked it up? Don’t pretend you don’t remember that I was the one who signed the contract and paid for it.” “So what? It was Mr. Miller’s money. He just had you run an errand for him. Who knew you’d get it in your head that it was yours? You caused us so much trouble, making us do last-minute alterations. You have no shame!” Her logic was staggering. “You don't trust contracts, you don't trust bank transfers, you just take someone's word for it?” The manager rolled her eyes. “We don't do that for just anyone. But this is a special case. Sarah is an heiress. Why would she lie? You, on the other hand… you follow Mr. Miller around like his personal assistant.” So, she was one of Sarah’s fans. But I knew the truth about Sarah’s “heiress” persona better than anyone. It wasn't entirely her fault, but that wasn't the point. Right there, in front of the entire staff, I called Tedd and put him on speaker. Miraculously, he answered before it went to voicemail. “Ava. What, you want to beg for forgiveness? Too late. How does it feel to be torn apart online? I hope you’re enjoying it. You brought this on yourself.” Now that I was done with him, every word he spoke just made him seem more pathetic. I cut straight to the chase. “You took my dress, and you haven’t paid me for it.” “Your dress?” he scoffed. “The boutique let me take it, so it’s mine. You got a problem? Take it up with them.” The sheer arrogance in his voice left me speechless for a moment. Even after everything, a part of me, the part that remembered the decade we’d known each other, didn't want to completely destroy him. But now, their brazen lies, their complete lack of remorse, had extinguished that last flicker of sentiment. I had made my decision. “Fine, Tedd,” I said, my voice chillingly calm. “You brought this on yourself. Good luck.” 4 After I hung up, the manager’s face was still twisted in a sneer. “I thought you were going to do something dramatic. Turns out you were just begging Mr. Miller for another chance.” I just smiled and shook my head. I dialed another number. This time, it was to the bridal company’s global headquarters in Paris. I conducted the entire conversation in fluent French. The manager didn’t understand a word, continuing her sarcastic commentary and even trying to have me thrown out. But it was too late. I quickly explained the situation to the executive on the other end of the line, demanding a public apology, a full retraction to restore my reputation, and, as stipulated in my contract for breach of service, triple the purchase price in damages. My month-long trip to Paris to meet with their team hadn't been a waste. The headquarters promised a swift and serious investigation. When the boutique’s phone rang a moment later, the manager’s career came to an abrupt end. Facts are facts. No matter how much she tried to lie and squirm, she couldn't hide her deliberate misconduct. With the matter settled, I turned and walked away, ignoring the sound of her desperate sobs behind me. The corporate office was efficient. A public clarification and apology appeared online almost immediately. At the same time, the fired manager, now facing a lawsuit, went on a rampage in Sarah’s comment section. “What heiress? What childhood sweethearts? It’s all a lie!” “A homewrecker and a broke loser had the nerve to come into my store and scam a wedding dress, and I’m the one who lost my job!” “Go to hell, you frauds!” The internet was stunned by the sudden reversal. “Wait, so it really was someone else’s dress?” “Does that mean… the other stuff is fake too?” “No way. Sarah is a real heiress and Tedd is a mogul! Just look at their lifestyle!” … An heiress? A mogul? I’d almost forgotten about that part. Sarah was no heiress. She was just a girl from some backwater town who had come to the city to stay with Tedd, her distant relative. When I first met her, she was just like any other girl from a remote village—dark-skinned, unsophisticated, and dressed in cheap clothes. I remember the greedy look in her eyes as she stared at my things, though her words were for Tedd. “Tedd, Ava’s clothes and jewelry are so beautiful. I love them so much!” Tedd didn't say anything then. But later, he took Sarah into my walk-in closet and let her pick out whatever she wanted. Seeing my personal belongings on a stranger made my skin crawl. But Tedd had an answer for everything. “I don’t have any family left back home. Sarah is like a little sister to me. If you’re with me, you should help me take care of her. It’s just a few things, what’s the big deal?” Then, because Sarah was “afraid” to live alone, he moved her into my villa. And because she wanted to be an influencer, he used my designer clothes, my jewelry, and my home to craft her online persona as a glamorous woman of leisure. I had tried to talk to him about it. I suggested that if Sarah liked something, she could buy it herself; she didn't need to take mine.
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