I'm Moving On, Belated Love

I was at the hotel confirming tomorrow's wedding details when a video came in from an unknown number.

I opened it. Jade Bruckner was in it, wearing her wedding dress.

A pair of large hands gripped her waist. Her skin, usually pale as snow, had flushed a deep red. The dress's heavy, layered skirt hid most of what was happening, but by the end of the clip, the once-pristine gown was filthy and crumpled.

A message followed from the same number, needling me on purpose.

[So what if you two get married? I'm the only one she's ever loved.]

My vision went black for a second. Something closed around my chest like a net, cinching tight, and for a long moment I couldn't breathe.

The wedding coordinator must have noticed something was wrong with my face, because she asked carefully, "Mr. Thelen, just to confirm, the sneakers are what pair with the main gown for the ceremony, correct?"

I snapped back to myself, and almost laughed at how pathetic I looked.

While we were planning the wedding, Jade had complained to me, pouting, about having to wear heels all day, saying just the thought of it exhausted her. To spare her the pain, I'd had a custom pair of sneakers made to go with the dress.

I'd even, just minutes ago, worried her feet might still get sore and thought about adding an extra insole.

And what had she been doing?

Using a bachelorette party with her friends as cover, she'd been wearing the custom dress I'd designed for her, tangled up with the one who got away.

That dress had cost me a fortune, made just for her.

My chest kept seizing up in waves of pain. I gave the coordinator some garbled answer and drove home in a daze.

The living room was decked out for the wedding, festive and bright. Our engagement photo hung on the wall behind the couch.

The decoration seemed to burn my eyes.

I sank onto the couch, drained, and thought about the man in the video.

I recognized him.

His name was Preston Greaves, a senior from Jade's college days, the one she'd spent three years chasing and never quite caught.

Jade's friend had mentioned him to me once before, but I hadn't minded. Everyone has fond memories from their school days, don't they?

Besides, Preston was already married. That made him old history, someone who wouldn't come between us again.

I had Jade's present and her future. We were supposed to have a bright, sweet life ahead of us.

But now, this video had shattered that fantasy completely.

I dragged a hand down my face and called Jade.

She didn't pick up.

Probably still "busy."

I called my childhood friend, Kyle Harlow instead. He'd gone to the same college as Jade.

He picked up fast, teasing me. "You're getting married tomorrow, and you still have time for me?"

I got straight to the point. "I need you to dig up everything you can on Jade and a guy named Preston Greaves. The more detail, the better. I owe you one."

He caught the strange edge in my voice and asked, worried, "Did something happen?"

I didn't answer. I just hung up, exhausted.

Two hours later, he sent over dozens of messages, some of them just him trying to comfort me.

I skimmed past those and pulled out the one that mattered: a secret social media account belonging to Jade.

An account I'd never even known existed.

She posted on it constantly, and every single post was about Preston. It might as well have been a diary of their romance.

For his birthday, she'd bought him a mechanical keyboard, captioned: [A programmer's keyboard. Every line of code hides a little love.]

Preston had commented: [Message received. Shame my ball and chain's watching too close for me to come get it.]

Jade had replied underneath: [Boo hoo, come here and let me hug you.]

I stared at the photo, a keyboard with a metallic finish. That exact keyboard was sitting on my desk right now.

It was the Christmas gift Jade had given me.

I wasn't a programmer, but plenty of my work involved typing anyway. Her gift had felt like she'd known exactly what I needed.

I'd been touched beyond words at the time.

Turned out it was only mine because Preston hadn't wanted it.

I got up and peeled the sticker off the keyboard. Underneath, faint but legible, was a small engraved P.

I kept scrolling, and felt my heart go cold, inch by inch.

Kyle texted again. [Is the wedding still happening?]

I pressed my fingers to my brow, lost, and had no idea what to do.