I'm not gay

Griacia

I pushed open the glass doors of the boutique and stepped inside.

The scent of fresh roses and warm linen drifted around me, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching.

Couples moved around the showroom, laughing softly, holding hands. Brides tried on veils, twirling in front of mirrors while their partners watched with stars in their eyes.

It was supposed to be our day.

I’d imagined walking through these very doors with Charles, hand in hand. I pictured him waiting for me, a warm smile on his face as I stepped out in the gown I’d chosen. We would laugh, and he’d tell me I looked beautiful.

I shook my head. There was no time for that. I wasn’t here to reminisce. I was here for one thing.

A woman behind the counter looked at me and lit up instantly. She was dressed head-to-toe in pastel pink, with perfectly styled hair and a smile that belonged in a magazine.

“Mrs. Gracia!” she chirped, rushing over to take my hands. “You’re here already. Wonderful! Everyone is ready for your dress fitting. They’re just in the back waiting for you!”

I stiffened. “Please call me Miss.”

She giggled and gave my hand a playful swat. “Oh, come now. You’ll be a Mrs in just a few days. What’s the point in pretending otherwise?”

Before I could protest again, she was already tugging me down the hallway toward the private dressing suites.

We turned the corner and entered a softly lit room with plush seats, champagne glasses on a tray, and a standing mirror framed in gold.

I saw two familiar faces, and for the first time today, something in my chest eased.

Eleanor and Wyatt.

Eleanor sat with one leg crossed over the other, her short red hair wild and perfect all at once. Freckles dotted her cheeks and her black leather jacket hugged her frame. She looked like the type of woman who didn’t just walk into a room, she owned it.

Wyatt sat beside her like a loyal puppy. With his soft eyes and messy black curls, he seemed worlds apart from her in personality, yet somehow, they fit perfectly.

They were whispering about something, Eleanor said something that made Wyatt laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he nudged her playfully. They looked like every version of love I used to hope for.

I’d introduced them in high school. Wyatt was shy, too quiet for most people to notice. Eleanor wasn’t. She’d chased him fiercely. I still remembered the day she beat up two boys who were bullying him behind the gym. Wyatt was mortified. Eleanor was proud. And the rest was history.

They got married a year after graduation. Now, they had twins, Lucas and Liana.

“Gracia!”

I turned just in time to see Wyatt standing, that warm, boyish smile on his face. Beside him, Eleanor twisted around and beamed.

“There she is,” she said brightly.

They both walked over, and Eleanor pulled me into a tight hug first. Wyatt followed with a more careful squeeze.

Despite everything, I smiled. Eleanor pulled back and tilted her head, scanning me from head to toe with narrowed eyes.

“Why do you look like that?” she said, her voice playful. “You look like you’ve been fucked all night. What happened?”

My entire face flushed. God, Eleanor.

Of course she’d notice. She always did. She had a sixth sense for this kind of thing. She was too sharp for her own good.

“Eleanor,” Wyatt muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “can you maybe not say stuff like that? We’re in public.”

She scoffed. “Why not? You’re not my daddy.”

The moment she said the word daddy, my breath caught in my throat and a jolt ran down my spine. My hand instinctively pressed against my chest.

Huh, why did that word sound so familiar?

Eleanor blinked. “Hey—are you okay?”

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I’m just tired.”

Wyatt frowned, concerned. “You should’ve stayed home. Charles said you were too exhausted to come today.”

Just hearing his name made my stomach twist, and my smile vanished.

Eleanor caught the shift instantly. Her gaze sharpened.

“What happened?” she asked. “Gracia, you’re acting weird.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but then I heard footsteps and voices approaching. I turned to see my ex-fiancé, and walking beside him was Mark, his lover.

They were talking, laughing about something until they saw me. Both of them stopped. Charles’s face turned ghostly pale, all the color draining from his cheeks.

“G-Gracia…” he stammered.

I didn’t answer. My eyes dropped to Mark's hand. He was holding my wedding dress.

I shook my head slowly, disbelief curdling into disgust.

“You’re becoming more shameless every day, Charles,” I said. “How dare you.”

Charles flinched. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then took a hesitant step toward me. His hand reached out as if to take mine. Before he could touch me, Eleanor stepped in between us and batted his hand away like it was offensive.

“Don’t,” she snapped.

Wyatt blinked. “Why?”

“Can’t you see?” she said, eyes locked on Charles. “This bastard did something. Something big.”

Wyatt looked between us, brows drawn tight. “Charles…what did you do?”

Charles opened his mouth. “I—I…”

But of course, Mark jumped in first.

“We were just picking out your dress,” he said casually, holding it up like it was a peace offering. “I came along because he was anxious about last night. Are you really going to be dramatic again?”

Charles turned to him quickly, eyes flashing. “Mark, no. Just… go, okay?”

I let out a low, humorless chuckle and ran a hand through my hair. They really thought this was something they could talk their way out of.

“You know what, Charles?” I said, locking eyes with him. “I spent all of yesterday trying to figure out what I ever saw in a man like you.”

Behind me, Eleanor muttered under her breath, “Sometimes I ask myself that too.”

Wyatt sighed. “Not now, Eleanor.”

It was no secret Eleanor never liked Charles. Not even in the beginning. She always said there was something off about him.

Charles tried again, tone gentler. “Can we talk about this privately, Gracia? Please, love.”

He gestured around the boutique, at the circle of onlookers whispering and pulling out their phones, ready for drama.

“This isn’t the place.”

I stepped forward, and without warning, I slapped him.

Everyone gasped, and Mark recoiled. Wyatt's mouth fell open in surprise, and even Eleanor looked stunned.

Charles staggered back a step, a red mark blooming across his cheek.

I stared at him, breathing hard.

“I should’ve done that last night,” I said, my voice shaking.

“You bitch—!” Mark shouted and his hand headed straight for my face.

I didn’t even have time to flinch, but he never reached me.

Wyatt’s hand shot out like lightning, catching Mark’s wrist with a force that made everyone freeze. His expression was calm but his grip was iron.

“Don’t even try it,” Wyatt warned.

Everyone always underestimated Wyatt. With his soft curls and kind eyes, people forgot he was built like someone who could break their bones. Right now, there was no softness in his face.

Eleanor pulled me back, turning me toward her. Her hands were firm on my shoulders.

“Gracia,” she said sharply, “what happened? What did this bastard do?”

My throat tightened, but I made myself say it. “He cheated on me.”

Eleanor’s entire body went still. Her gaze slowly shifted to Charles. Her eyes darkened, and she lunged.

“You son of a—!”

Charles let out a startled yelp and backed up, stumbling over himself, but Wyatt caught Eleanor, wrapping both arms around her waist and lifting her slightly off the ground.

“Let me go!” she shouted, kicking. “I have to kill this asshole. Just once! Just one punch!”

“Breathe,” Wyatt said, struggling to hold her. “Calm down, baby.”

Eleanor growled but finally stopped thrashing, chest rising and falling as she glared at Charles. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll just kill them both together. I don’t have to waste my energy. Just tell me who the other woman is. I swear I’ll—”

I glanced at Charles and saw him shaking his head pleadingly. His eyes begged me not to say it. And for a moment, my heart twisted, not out of pity. But exposing someone like that, in a room full of strangers? I didn’t want to be that person, even if he deserved every second of it.

I opened my mouth to change the topic, and let it go. But then he blurted out, “She’s lying! I didn’t cheat with Mark! I'm not gay!”

Silence.

It was the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. You could’ve heard a pin drop, and it would've echoed through the entire boutique.

Someone from the back muttered, “Shit. He’s gay?”

Another voice followed. “This is not what I expected.”

Eleanor and Wyatt stared at him, too stunned to speak. And Charles realized a second too late what he’d just admitted. His mouth hung open, eyes wide in horror.

I scoffed and turned to my friends. “Well, there you have it. Charles is gay.”