Chapter 2

The night before the wedding is a terrible time to confess your feelings. I know I'll be rejected. I know it won't change a thing. We've known each other for nearly thirteen years-thirteen years of quiet glances and buried hope-and I've liked him for just as long without ever saying a word.

Then Elena comes home, practically glowing, tears clinging to her lashes and a flashy diamond ring sparkling on her finger. She's laughing and crying all at once as she tells me how Noah proposed. I just stand there, frozen. Numb. They've only been together a year. And now they're getting married.

I don't confess then.

The next day, Noah comes to me, buzzing with excitement, like he's just won the lottery. He goes on and on about the big move he made, how he planned everything perfectly.

I'm supposed to be his best friend. And he doesn't say a word.

"You would've told her," he says when I ask. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

Yeah. It is. For both of us. Still, I don't say anything.

We go dress shopping. Pick out centerpieces and debate venues. Every detail of the wedding that has Elena crying from joy one minute and stressing the next-I'm there. Smiling. Nodding. Doing what any good sister would do.

I tell myself I'm okay. Over and over. Like a chant in my head. Noah loves Elena. He wants to marry her. What more proof do I need that he never saw me that way? That's it. End of story. The door to the only love I've ever really known slams shut. And I tell myself to move on.

Then comes the night before the wedding. And I start unraveling. Maya says I'm having an anxiety attack. She's probably right. My heart's racing, hands shaking, thoughts darting around like a swarm of bees in a bottle.

"You don't have to expect anything," she tells me, all calm and serious, like I'm not two seconds from tearing my hair out. "Just tell him. Say how you feel. Get it off your chest and that's it. You'll have closure."

I shoot her a look. "It's the night before Elena's wedding. Who does that?"

"Do you really think he'd call it off?"

"I don't know what I think!" I'm pacing the floor, chewing my nails down to stubs. "I just-God, I can't calm down. I feel like I'm losing it. He's getting married tomorrow, Maya. To Elena. What am I supposed to do? What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, hot and stubborn. My voice cracks as I keep talking, the words tumbling out too fast.

"I'm gonna walk down the aisle as her maid of honor. I'm gonna hold her damn train, hand her tissues, fix her makeup and stand there, watch her marry Noah. I can't. I can't do it."

My chest locks up tight, like someone's taken a fistful of wire and wrapped it around my ribs. Every breath feels thinner than the last.

"That's why I said you should confess," Maya says gently. "You can't carry this into the ceremony. You'll fall apart. And you know Elena, if you back out now, she'll lose it. She might not even go through with the wedding if you're not there."

Maya, my best friend since high school, gets to her feet and crosses the room, pulling me into a firm embrace. Her warmth anchors me, steadies my spiraling thoughts.

"Ray, you can do this," she murmurs. "I mean, what's the worst that can happen? Just get it out of your chest, and you'll feel better."

Her words, at first absurd, start to sink in, winding their way into my restless mind until they feel like truth. That's how I find myself at Noah's house, standing outside in the rain, water dripping from the hood of my sweatshirt.

It's a new house, one he's bought recently. The first sign I should have seen, should have known he's thinking about marriage. Who buys a three-bedroom house at twenty-seven without a plan? The place is still hollow, unfinished. No couch, no bed frame, just a foam mattress resting on bare tiles.

And here I am, soaking wet and shivering, sneaking off to my sister's fiancé's house. He was my friend first, that's the thought I cling to, desperate to justify what I'm doing. As if that makes any of this okay.

I knock. The door swings open, and there he is. Noah, bleary-eyed, hoodie damp with sleep, face tired but filling with shock the moment he sees me.

"Ray!" He says my name like it hits him full force, like he's not sure I'm real.

I tremble, cold, breath unsteady. But I don't turn back.

"Hey, Noah." My voice wavers, like it can barely hold itself together.

"What are you doing? You're drenched," he says, eyes darting over me.

"It's fine."

"What's fine? Come in, let me grab you a towel."

"No, I just-"

"You'll get sick if you stand there like that."

"I know, but I'll be quick."

"Ray," he sighs, exasperated now. "Just come inside. Quickly."

But I can't. I can't step into that house with this burden still knotted inside me. Instead, the words spill out, rip free, like something I have no control over.

"I'm in love with you!" My whole body starts to shake, but the secret's out. No taking it back now. "I have been in love with you for years."

Noah shifts, stepping out onto the porch, his silhouette outlined against the dim glow spilling from inside. His expression is hard to define, some mix of confusion and disbelief.

"Ray," he says, uncertain. "What are you saying to me right now?"

I laugh, the sound brittle and strange, like it belongs to someone else. Maybe I'm losing it. Maybe this is pure madness, showing up like this, saying these words on the eve of his wedding.

"I know you love Elena," I say, the words barely holding together. "Who doesn't? And I know she loves you. I swear I'm not trying to come between that."

His jaw tightens, hands pushing into his pockets as he exhales sharply. "Ray, you can't-" He hesitates, like he's searching for the right words, then sighs. "You can't drop this on me now. I'm getting married tomorrow."

"I know." My throat burns as I swallow, forcing the next words out before they slip away. "This isn't meant to stop anything. I just needed to say it. You needed to know." I breathe in deep, still shaking, but there's no turning back. "I... I love you. I have loved you very much."

His lips part, but no words come. The quiet between us stretches, thick with the weight of what I've just unleashed.

"Ray..." His voice is barely above a whisper.

I wipe at my face, forcing something close to a smile. "Tell me," I murmur. "I know I'm too late. I didn't say it soon enough. But... what if I had? What if I hadn't hidden it for so long? What would your answer be?"

His gaze locks onto mine, something heavy and sorrowful settling in his eyes. "I don't know," he says finally.

I nod, my breath hitching, my face crumbling into a sob. "Yeah, you can say it, Noah. I already know, but you have to say it."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he wants to resist, like he wants to spare me, but there's no sparing me now. "Ray, this isn't-"

"Just this once," I whisper, lips trembling. "I won't ask you to say it again." I pull in a shaky breath, bracing for the blow.

He studies me for a long moment, and I see it, the split second where he makes up his mind.

"I love Elena," he says, quiet but firm. "I have loved her all my life. She is the one."

I'm not prepared. God, I think I am, convince myself I've braced for impact, but the pain is instant, staggering. It hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of me. I nod, try to swallow it down, try to breathe through it, but the tears come fast, violent. I break apart, right there in front of him.

He never loved me. Never thought of me as anything more. I've been the closest person to him for years, but I'm still the farthest from his heart.

"No, no, Ray, please don't cry." His hands twitch like he wants to reach for me, like he wants to pull me into a hug. But he hesitates. Something has shifted. We're not just best friends anymore. And he knows it.

I can't stop. I sob, head bowed, shoulders shaking, the kind of crying that comes from somewhere deep and raw. I cry like a child who's lost their mother, who'll never know warmth again, who suddenly has no home.

I cry so hard I'm shocked I haven't collapsed, haven't just passed out right there on the porch. If I had died, I think maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. That's how bad it is. How deep the wound cuts.

Somehow, I walk away-on my own two feet, shaking, drenched, broken. I beg Noah not to tell Elena. Then I just keep walking. For hours. Maybe all night.

By morning, I'm a ghost. My eyes are swollen, my throat raw, my body heavy with grief, but I'm up. I smile. I hold her bouquet. I zip her into her wedding dress.

And it's like it never happened.