A One-Way Ticket to Better Days

I forced my eyes open to a burst of laughter.

Callum Price was holding an overflowing glass of liquor. He tipped it back and drained it.

"I knew Callum couldn't bear to make Brielle take the drink!"

"Finally! This is exactly what I've been waiting to see!"

Brielle Sutton grinned and made a heart with her hands.

The host slapped a card down on the table.

"This is getting boring. Let's switch games. Everyone say something you've done that no one else here has!"

Brielle immediately raised her hand.

"I've been proposed to sixty-five times, but I turned them all down for my best friend."

The room went quiet for a beat.

Then everyone looked at Callum with knowing smiles.

He simply spread his hands with an indulgent smile.

My chest tightened.

The whole scene was humiliating.

Callum and I had been together for five years.

When he proposed, he'd slipped the pull tab from a soda can onto my finger.

After that, I'd asked him more than once when we were finally going to set a wedding date.

His excuses were always the same: "Let's wait. There's no rush. We'll talk about it when work settles down."

Now I finally understood what he'd been waiting for.

Someone playfully shoved Brielle toward him.

Callum caught her without thinking, so naturally it looked like he'd done it a thousand times before.

I couldn't watch anymore.

I braced a hand against the table and stood, accidentally knocking over an empty bottle with my elbow.

It hit the floor with a sharp clatter.

Everyone turned toward me.

Callum took one look at my face and frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't feel well. I'm going to the hospital."

Brielle laughed before I'd even finished speaking.

"See? I told you. She's pretending to be sick again."

She turned to Callum.

"Give her half an hour, and she'll be back to normal. A bet's a bet, Cal. Don't forget to pay up."

Callum smiled and nodded.

My legs felt weak as I headed for the door.

Footsteps followed behind me.

Callum sounded more annoyed than concerned.

"Everyone's here, and you always have to kill the mood."

He sighed.

"Fine. Go downstairs and cool off. Take the trash out while you're at it. Come back once you've calmed down so I don't have to come get you."

I followed his gaze.

A trash bag sat by the door. Right on top was the tie I'd given him.

Brielle had called it "old-fashioned" once.

That was all it took for Callum to throw it away.

I bent down, picked up the bag, and said nothing.

At the hospital, the doctor shook his head after examining me.

"You were running a pretty high fever. You should've come in sooner. Why weren't you taking better care of yourself?"

I managed a faint smile.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

Brielle had shared several video links in our group chat and tagged Callum.

Brielle: [Hey, hurry up! Don't forget to check in!]

He replied almost instantly with a string of emojis.

They chatted like a couple madly in love.

It had been Brielle's idea in the first place.

"If we want to keep the three of us close, we should check in every day and keep our streak alive."

Once, I forgot because I had to work late.

They put it to a vote.

Two to one.

They banned me from our daily check-ins for six months.

After that, the group chat slowly became theirs.

I was always just the awkward extra.

One memory after another flashed through my mind.

Once, Callum showed up two hours late to a date we'd planned.

After another two-to-one vote, they decided I had to put in a written request three days in advance whenever I wanted a date with him.

Brielle could make plans with him whenever she wanted.

When my fever hit 102°F, they voted on whether I was "really that sick."

Every time, the majority ruled.

And every time, I was the one outvoted.

The doctor was still talking.

"You're young. Take better care of yourself. If something isn't right for you, let it go. Otherwise, you'll only make yourself suffer."

I looked down and slipped the soda-can tab off my finger.

"You're right," I said softly. "I won't make that mistake again."

Dawn was beginning to break outside the window.

The IV sent a chill through my arm.

And yet, I hadn't felt this clear-headed in five years.