Dear ex-husband, I'm now your ruthless, cocky boss's wife.

~~~Zendaya~~~

“Please rise for the groom.”

“Yayy!”

The words barely leave the officiant’s mouth before I’m already shifting forward in my seat, palms pressing flat against my thighs as I push myself up. I actually can't wait to see who the handsome groom is. My heart kicks once, hard, then settles into a quick, eager rhythm.

It’s been so long since I attended a wedding. The last one feels like it belongs to another life. Today is my birthday and the house was too boring, when Nadia said she needed an extra pair of hands I didn’t even hesitate. I just grabbed my bag and followed her out the door.

We’re not invited to this wedding, but we’re not crashing either. The event planner is one of Nadia’s close friends. He handed her the entire catering job because everyone knows her work, and she was short one apprentice today. So she told me to accompany her.

And here we are at Brevard. Tadaaaa. A small grin left my lips.

Since my husband isn’t around to celebrate my birthday, I might as well celebrate it with the new happy couples.

I catch the movement from the corner of my eye.

Nadia is staring at my profile, brows pulled tight together, mouth curved in that irritated little line she gets when she’s annoyed but trying not to start something in public.

“What’s going on with you, sis?” she mutters, voice low enough that only I can hear. “You’ve been grinning all day like a kid who just found out ice cream is free for life.”

I shake my head, still facing forward, and keep my voice soft.

“I’m just eager to see two people getting married.”

It’s not my wedding.

I fucking don’t even know why the hell I’m so happy watching two strangers prepare to walk into forever. But the smile won’t leave my face. It sits there stubbornly, tugging at the corners of my mouth no matter how many times I try to tone it down.

Nadia rolls her eyes so hard I almost hear it. She folds her arms across her chest, shoulders stiff.

“You’re such a prick,” she says. “What’s so sweet about getting married? These men are useless. Bloody cheaters. Walking red flags with dicks. Selfish, lying, commitment-phobic wastes of oxygen. Pain in the ass, every last one of them. I might as well stay single forever because I don’t fucking trust any of them. They’re all freaking asses.”

A sharp breath whooshes out of me as I roll my eyes right back at her. I’m honestly tired of this. She’s a staunch misandrist who believed every man was capable of hurting a woman and I still have no idea where she got that gene from, because trust me, none of our parents or family members are like that.

I turn my head just enough to look at her properly.

“Not all of them, Nadia,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Some are absolute trash, yes. Some will break your heart and leave you questioning everything. But some… some show up. Some stay. Some make you feel safe even on the days you don’t feel like yourself.” I pause, thinking of the man who isn’t here today. “My husband is one of the good ones. He’s patient. He’s kind. He sometimes remembers the small things and never makes me feel like I’m too much. He’s the best husband the world could’ve given me.” Part of what I say about my husband is actually a lie, but I'm not ready to let Nadia know how my home is. I don't want her stressing herself over me.

Nadia opens her mouth, but I cut in before she can fire back.

“And by the way—I’m not a prick. I’m a girl, so I possess a cunt, not a dick.”

She scoffs, already turning her face away from me. My twin sister can be annoying sometimes, but I still love her nevertheless.

The noise in the room dies down all at once.

Everyone shifts, standing a little straighter, hands rising as the first slow clap begins. The sound builds, politely, and warmly. I start to lift my own hands, ready to join them.

Then my heart starts pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my ears, in the tips of my fingers. A cold, heavy feeling slides into my chest without warning. Something is wrong. I don’t know what, but the joy I was holding onto just a second ago begins to leak out of me like air from a punctured tire.

Why?

I shake my head, taking a deep breath. Not this time. I want to celebrate these two people. So I force the corners of my mouth to stay up. I’m about to bring my hands together to clap when the smile on my face slowly dissipates.

My whole face freezes.

Blood drains so fast I feel light-headed. My skin goes cold. My eyes lock onto the man walking down the aisle and everything inside me stops.

No. No. No.

I’m imagining things. I have to be. I squeeze my eyes shut, press the heels of my hands hard against them until I see sparks, then force them open again.

He’s still there. It's still the same man

Jesus. Fucking Christ.

My temperature drops like someone just poured ice water down my spine. My stomach drops with it. My fingers go numb.

Nash?

My husband?

Is the groom?

Beside me, Nadia has gone completely rigid. I feel her hand clamp around mine, nails digging in.

“Zen!” her voice is sharp, barely a breath. “Isn’t that your husband?”

I’ve gone too numb to answer Nadia.

My gaze stays locked on him as he walks down the aisle. A thousand questions slam through my head at once and none of them have answers.

Our eyes meet for a single, brutal second.

He goes rigid. Shock scatters across his face like glass cracking. He stops walking. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, as if the explanation is right there on his tongue, then he swallows it whole.

And he turns away like he never saw me. Like I am nothing more than another guest in a white chair.

Something inside my chest breaks. It shatters painfully. Sharp pieces of it scatter behind my ribs and every breath I take pushes them deeper. The same man who bid me goodbye three days ago, who smiled against my forehead said he had to travel for a meeting, who promised he’d be back tonight so we could celebrate my birthday together—is walking toward another woman while he’s still legally fucking married to me.

Isn’t that against the law?

The priest’s voice cuts through the roaring in my ears.

“Let’s all rise for the bride…”

I force my head to turn and the world tilts all over again. This time, I'm sure my heart will fly out with the level of banging inside my chest.

It’s not a stranger. Jeez, it's not a fucking stranger. My nails dug into my palm.

It’s Piper Brookes.

His best friend. His childhood sweetheart. The girl whose name used to sit in old photo albums like a ghost I never thought I’d have to face. Behind her was also Nash's mom, Linda and his sister Susan. They all know about this too?

My head starts banging so hard it feels like it wants to rip itself off my neck. A tsunami of everything, rage, betrayal, disbelief, grief crashes through me at once. Jesus. I can’t breathe. My chest is constricting, ribs locking tight around lungs that suddenly refuse to work. My whole body starts shaking so violently I’m terrified I’ll drop right here between the chairs.

Wasn’t this the same man I was just defending to Nadia?

The patient one. The kind one. The best husband the world could’ve given me.

Hot tears spill over, sliding down my cheeks. I don’t even wipe them because I can’t move.

Beside me Nadia is already on fire.

“I’ll kill him,” she snarls under her breath, voice shaking with pure fury. “I swear to God, Zen, I’m going to fucking kill this bastard.”

I didn’t respond. I stand there and watch it all happen right in front of me.

The priest’s voice drifts in and out like it’s coming from underwater, as he begins the wedding. I hear the two soft, clear “I do”s. I see Nash’s mouth move around the words. I see Piper’s smile as she answers. None of it feels real, yet every second of it is happening three metres away from where my feet are planted, and it all feels like a sharp dagger to my chest.

They exchange rings. His hand slides the band onto her finger. Hers does the same to him.

Then they lean in and kiss.

Something inside me folds in on itself. My stomach twists so hard I taste metal. My vision blurs at the edges. The air feels too thin. I can’t look away even though every part of me wants to. Beside me Nadia is vibrating with rage, jaw locked, eyes burning, fists clenched so tight her knuckles have gone white. Her whole face is a mask of pure, murderous shock.

Nash never once looks my way, during the whole process. Intact, he doesn't look disturbed. He looks more happy and that makes the daggers twist painfully deeper into my chest.

Then Piper’s eyes slid toward me just for a second.

A devilish, victorious little smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

I scoff under my breath.

Wow.

Today was supposed to be a joyous occasion. I was supposed to be celebrating, expecting a huge gift from my husband when he came home tonight. Tears keep slipping down my cheeks, silent and hot.

Well.

Happy birthday to me.

Because I did get a gift.