1. The Best Man

Denver slept deeply, undisturbed, as the rain tapped steadily against the window. He hugged his sweet-smelling pillow, stirring occasionally with the thunder clapping outside. But the sound of thunder became oddly persistent, awakening him out of his sleep. It was constant banging or thumping toward the front of the house. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the noise, grabbed his pillow over his head, and tried to ignore it. But the loud, constant rumbling and banging wouldn’t stop; it sounded more like someone urgently knocking on his front door than just thunder.

He creaks one eye open, agitatedly ruffling his already disheveled hair. Sitting up in bed, trying to make sure it's not his imagination. He clearly heard the loud sound again. “Thump, thump, thump!”

He creaks one eye open, agitatedly ruffling his already disheveled hair. Sitting up in bed, trying to make sure it's not his imagination. He clearly heard the loud sound again. “Thump, thump, thump!”

Denver rubbed his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then called out, 'Hold your horses!' He pressed his hand to his forehead, massaging his temples as he shuffled sleepily down the hallway. 'I'm coming!'

He raised his voice.

“Who is it?!”

'It's me! India!' A faint female voice called out as thunder crashed, so loud it felt like it shook the ground. He reached for the doorknob, then realized he was in his underwear. He quickly went back to his room to grab his striped black-and-white robe. The knocking kept going, growing more urgent. Denver hurried back to the door to open it. He froze in place, uncertainty flickering across his face. ‘Did she say India?’ For a moment, he just stared at the doorknob, mind racing. When he realized he’d heard right, he fumbled with the lock and swung it open. India stood on the doorstep, rain-soaked hair plastered to her face, shivering, her drenched clothes clinging to her frame, water pooling at her feet.

He was surprised to see her standing there in the rain at this time of night. 'India, what are you doing here? Where’s Marcus?' She had never come to his place without Marcus. It was dark, and the rain was pouring.  'Why are you out in weather like this?'

She was desperate for shelter, her breath short and uneven.

'Can... can I...' she stammered, shivering. Denver realized he hadn’t invited her inside yet.

'Oh, come in!' he said, stepping aside with concern etched across his face. India shuffled past him, leaving a trail of rainwater on the floor. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to hide her trembling. As she entered, she caught the startled look in his large, light brown eyes, then realized he was in his robe that was barely closed. She looked away quickly, embarrassed, but her eyes flicked back to him, unable to help herself.

Denver’s deeply tanned skin covered his long and lean frame of solid muscle. She risked another glance at his face and saw him watching her, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. Denver leaned past her to close the door, moving slowly, as if not to startle her. India startled at the motion, flinching and stepping back, her hands tightening around herself, almost as if she might bolt before the door closed behind her.

She muttered, her voice shaky and quiet, 'Thank you. I’m sorry for coming here so late. You are a long-time friend of Marcus, and since I moved here two years ago, I consider you my friend too. I had nowhere else to go. As you know, I left my family and friends and moved here so that Marcus and I could be closer. Being in a long-distance relationship was driving me insane.”

Denver ran a hand through his messy hair, mind racing. India, his best friend’s fiancée, was standing in his cottage in the middle of the night, soaked and looking devastated. This couldn’t be good.

'Wait here,' he said, holding up a hand before heading down the hallway. 'What do you mean, you have nowhere to go?' He expected her to answer as he returned with a large towel and one of his hoodies.

'Here. You’ll catch pneumonia.'

India took the items, still trembling, and wrapped the towel around her shoulders. 'I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where else I could go. I couldn’t stay there.'

'Where?”

“At Marcus’s place.”

 Denver’s jaw tightened. 'India, what happened?'

'I saw him with someone else,' she whispered, her voice breaking. She pulled the towel tighter around her.

Denver motioned to the living room. 'Sit down. I’ll make some coffee.' His voice was gentle, but guarded, as if he needed facts before reacting. 'What do you mean that you saw him with someone else?' he asked, searching her face for clues. 'Where—what happened, exactly?'

While the coffee brewed, Denver watched India from the kitchen. She sat on his couch, still shivering and staring into space. He’d known her for two years, ever since Marcus introduced them with a big grin, saying he’d found 'the one.' Denver had been skeptical, but Marcus fell in love all the time; India was different. She was smart, witty, and called Marcus out on his nonsense, which Denver respected.

He brought over two mugs and sat in the armchair across from her, keeping some distance. 'Alright. Talk to me.'

India wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the warmth reach her cold fingers. 'I saw him in bed with someone else tonight. I should have known he was cheating when I found messages on his phone. From someone named Vanessa.'

Denver’s stomach dropped. Surprise, then a flash of bitterness crossed his face. 'Vanessa?' he repeated, his tone controlled but tense, carefully masking any accusation. He set his mug down with a quiet clink, collecting himself before speaking again.

Denver hesitated, feeling a sudden sense of betrayal. He knew Vanessa. After a few dates, he’d told Marcus she was one of the few women he wanted to get serious with. Vanessa was a model they’d worked with on a campaign six months ago. Marcus knew Denver had been texting her and even encouraged him to take things further.

'I know who she is. Are you sure it was Vanessa you saw in bed with Marcus?' He replied, sipping his coffee again.

'Yes!' India said bitterly. 'I took screenshots of the messages. Look.' Denver glanced at them. They were explicit and intimate. Marcus had been seeing her for a month behind his back, knowing Denver was interested in this girl.

'Wow.' Denver set his mug down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. 'India, I didn’t know. If I had known.’

'I know you didn’t.' Her voice softened. 'You’re not like him. You’re honest about who you are. You don’t make promises you can’t keep.'

The words lingered between them. It was true. Denver had always avoided commitment and tried to be clear about his intentions. He liked his freedom and the simplicity of bachelor life. Marcus, though, loved the idea of commitment but couldn’t handle the reality or stay loyal.

'What did Marcus say when you confronted him?' Denver asked.

'I didn’t.' India took a sip of coffee. 'I left. I had to get out; I didn’t know what I might do. So I grabbed my keys, drove, and ended up at your place. I couldn’t stand to see him with another woman for another second.'

She paused, then glanced at Denver, her voice still low. 'I didn’t know where else to go. You were the only person I could think of—the only one I trust. With you, I feel safe. I knew you’d actually care what happened to me.'

'He’s probably losing his mind with regret. I know I would…'

'I doubt it, but it’s good if he is,' she said coldly. Her shoulders stiffened, and for just a moment, she seemed lost in thought, the hurt in her eyes shifting to something sharper. She glanced down at her coffee, lips pressed in a thin line, then looked back at Denver. It was as if she were weighing a decision, summoning resolve. Then her expression changed, something calculating in her eyes. 'Actually, Denver, I need your help.'

Something in her tone made Denver uneasy, but he replied anyway. 'Okay… What kind of help?'