Chapter 2

I lay in bed for a long time before the mattress finally dipped beside me.

The covers lifted, then settled.

The bed wasn’t even that big, but somehow, it felt like he wasn’t there at all.

I turned my head and looked at his back.

His white pajamas reminded me of his old school uniform.

Nine years ago, he had been thinner.

He had led me to the stairwell and told me to cover my eyes.

I peeked through my fingers anyway.

It was dark.

Then I heard a soft click.

A candle flickered to life, outlining him in a warm glow.

He turned around with a cake in his hands, his forehead still damp with sweat.

The bakery was all the way across town from our school.

“Happy first anniversary, Willa.

“Make a wish.”

Study hall wasn’t over yet. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the faint rustle of pages turning.

But all I could see was the candlelight reflected in his eyes.

Instead of making my wish silently, I told him what it was.

“On our tenth anniversary, I hope you’ll still be right beside me.”

He smiled, then looked up at me.

“I will.”

That candlelight had stayed with me through every anniversary that followed.

This year, it finally went out.

I closed my eyes, swallowed the ache in my throat, and turned away.

The next day, he sent me a location along with a message.

'Let me make it up to you. I made a reservation for tonight. Can we celebrate together?'

The system appeared.

[Eight hours from now, he’ll tell you something came up at work and he can’t make it.]

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I pulled out the contract for our wedding venue and stopped at the cancellation clause.

Then I called.

“I’d like to cancel my reservation.”

The woman on the other end paused.

“You’re sure you want to cancel, not postpone?”

I went still.

“Has someone asked about postponing it before?”

“About a month ago, your fiancé called to ask whether changing the date would affect the deposit.”

I had chosen the venue.

I had paid the deposit.

And he had never said a word to me.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

A month ago.

Right around the time he pinned that beach photo.

“Yes. I’m sure. Please cancel it.”

“The deposit is nonrefundable.”

“That’s fine.”

After I hung up, I went through my contacts and called my bridesmaids one by one.

I didn’t explain much.

I just apologized and told them the wedding was off.

By the time I reached the third person, a message from Claire popped up.

'Want to meet tonight?'

My finger hovered over the screen for a long time.

Then I replied.

'Sure.'

The system appeared again.

[?]

[You’re not going to the restaurant he booked?]

[Before, even when I warned you what would happen, you still went.]

This time, I answered.

“No.”

“I’m not going.”

Claire asked me to meet her at a bar.

By the time I arrived, she had already had quite a bit to drink.

Four or five empty bottles were lined up in front of her.

She was slumped over the bar, but when she saw me, she smiled.

“You came.”

I sat down and pushed her drink away.

“Your stomach just got better. Why are you drinking again?”

“Because I feel awful.”

Her eyes were unfocused.

“Willa, I feel so awful.”

I asked the bartender for some water and said nothing.

Claire stayed quiet for a while.

Then she suddenly sat up and grabbed my wrist.

“I owe you an apology.

“After I told him I liked him…”

She paused, her voice dropping.

“You probably thought it was over when he rejected me that day.”

“It wasn’t.

“We’ve been talking this whole time.

“Behind your back.”

She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and pushed it into my hands.

“Go ahead.

“Read it.

“You’ll understand.”

Their conversation was open on the screen.

For a moment, I couldn’t tell whether the buzzing in my head was the system or just the blood rushing in my ears.

I started scrolling.

The first messages were from today.

[Willa wore a white dress today.]

[So?]

[It reminded me of you in college.]

I scrolled farther up.

Yesterday.

[Being stuck in the hospital is so boring. I zoomed in on that beach photo you posted. You were looking at me, weren’t you?]

[Yeah.]

[Does Willa know?]

[She won’t look that closely.]

Farther up.

Two in the morning.

[I can’t sleep. I feel like such an asshole, but I can’t stop myself.]

Claire had replied:

[Then stop trying.]

I kept scrolling.

A month ago.

A message from him.

[I miss you.]

Claire hadn’t answered for a long time.

Then:

[Do you miss me, or do you just miss having someone to talk to?]

His reply had taken even longer.

[You.]

I kept scrolling.

And scrolling.

There seemed to be no end.

Message after message.

Conversation after conversation.

Each exchange filled in another stretch of time I had thought had been completely uneventful.

Claire lowered her head into my lap.

“I’m sorry.

“I really didn’t want to lie to you.”

I looked down at her.

Ten years ago, on the day I had been about to tell her that he and I were officially together, she had cried just like this with her head in a classmate’s lap.

“I’ve always known he likes Willa. I thought I was okay with it, but it still hurts so much.”

That was the first time I found out Claire liked him.

The thought of dating someone my best friend loved made me feel so guilty that I almost broke up with him.

But he had looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and said,

“This isn’t about anyone else. Just look at me.”

And that was what stopped me from leaving.

Later, Claire got another boyfriend.

I thought she had moved on.

So when she stood in front of us three months ago and asked him to give her a fair chance, I was shocked, but I said nothing.

I thought it was just her way of finally saying goodbye to an old teenage crush.

I thought he would handle it.

What I never considered was that neither of them was the person I remembered anymore.