To Hate, To Love, And To Wed

My ear erupts with loud ringing as I watch my world shatter into tiny little pieces. The pain is crippling. It feels as though someone is craving a blade into my heart. Sorrow curls around me, confusion and surprise seizing my ability to breathe.

 I’m standing with my skin tight with a cold that shouldn't even exist in this heat, my legs firmly rooted to the spot, and my mind spiraling. I’m trying to understand, to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of me.  

My wide eyes are trained on my best friend and the love of my life, watching as they scramble with the sheets to shield their nakedness, to hide their betrayal. Their shame means nothing to me. The damage is already done.

Tears flood into my eyes and sting my lid, I refuse to let them fall. I can’t break—not here, not now. 

Is it even necessary to hold back the tears?

With or without it, my pain is boldly written on my face. 

My pain shows in the way my eyes are darting around the room with desperation, as if searching for an escape. It’s in the way my heart is hammering frantically against my ribcage, threatening to jump out. It’s in the way I clench my fist so tight my nails dig into my palms.  

I stumble as I remember all the fights I had with my father, all the times he warned me and begged me to choose better, all the times he asked me to put myself first. I ignored his warnings. I was willing to throw my only family away, willing to throw my security away because of… Austin.

I chose him. 

I trusted him. 

I fought for him. For this relationship.

And now, everything I feared is happening right in front of me. He’s a liar.

“I can explain,” Austin says, his voice panicked.

I glance at Grace, my best friend, the girl that has no blood relation to me but I chose as my sister. I’ve given her years of my life and my love. Our eyes meet and I think maybe she’ll offer me something—some form of guilt, some explanation that will make this betrayal bearable. 

But she doesn’t. She looks relaxed, proud even, her lips twitching like she’s fighting hard not to laugh. 

I scoff with a nod as I realize that the two important people in my life are evil. “How long?” I ask, my voice quiet. 

Austin and Grace exchange a look. The pause that follows is enough of an answer. But I need to hear it. I need to hear them say it.

My eyes remain locked on Austin. I should lash out, scream at him, demand answers, but just as the words reach my tongue, I change my mind.

Austin doesn’t owe me anything anymore. He’s just a boy I met two years ago. But Grace… is supposed to be my sister.

That is what hurts the most.

I turn to Grace, and our eyes meet. My eyes brim some more and I lose the fight. I let the tears flow. As I speak, my voice trembles. “You were one of the few people who showed me unconditional love after my mother died, Grace. I trusted you. I loved you. Why?” My voice breaks. “Why have you gone and broken my trust?”

She rolls her eyes boringly and huffs out a breath. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Adaline. Maybe you should be having this conversation with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my sister,” I whisper. “You are. You are my sister, my best friend. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, I brought him to you first and asked for your approval. That is how much I love and trust you. So tell me, why?”

Letting out a sigh, she climbs out of the bed and the sheets slip off, exposing her bare body. “I don’t know,” she says, her tone light in a way that borders on mockery and cruelty. “Maybe he saw you for the self-absorbed brat that you are. Maybe he finally realized I’m the better woman. Maybe he just needed me more than he needed an entitled bitch like you. Who knows?” She shrugs. “But he’s right there. You can ask him.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, as the corners of my mouth hang—one side upturned, the other downturned. My gaze shifts to Austin and he swallows, recoiling into himself. 

“How long ago did you come to this realization, Austin?” I ask, my voice eerily calm.

“W-what?” he stammers.

“When did this start? How long have you and my best friend been fooling me?”

His mouth opens and closes, his voice failing him. Again, Grace rolls her eyes with a smirk and answers for him. “A year ago, Adaline. On your birthday. In your own bed. While you were prancing around in your pretty dress and enjoying your lavish party.” 

For a moment, my mind blanks out. Raw pain swells inside me like an endless pit. I fight it—the scream building up in my throat, the itch of my fist to slam into something. I don’t want this pain to consume me. I don’t want to fall apart in front of people who feel no remorse for what they’ve done to me. 

Inhaling a deep breath, I straighten myself and force my muscles to relax. I keep my expression neutral as I stare at them for a moment before smiling. My smile doesn’t feel forced, but it also doesn’t feel happy. 

Without another word, I turn and walk away, slamming the door shut with a rattling force.

. . .

The drive to my father’s estate passes in a blur. All I can hear is the sound of my own pulse roaring against my mind. All I can feel is the pain in my chest as it squeezes. The car slows to a stop in front of our Beverly hills mansion and I step out absentmindedly. 

One word continues ringing in my mind. 

Calm.

I need to be calm. They’ve done their part—they’ve broken my heart. But if they thought I would crumble, they were wrong. 

I am not that weak. 

I’m stronger now—sometimes a fool for the ones I love, but I have strength. And I’m patient. I know my turn for retaliation will come. And when it does, both Grace and Austin won’t see me coming.  

My intention is to go up to my room as I enter the manor, but somehow, my legs develop a mind of their own and I find myself standing in front of my father’s home office. 

I knock once before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

My father looks up from the papers on his desk and his eyes meet mine, his brows immediately furrowing. His mouth opens as though he wants to demand an explanation as to why I look like I’m about to explode.

Then he swallows, deciding against it. 

“You swore never to see or speak to me again, Adaline.”

Always so sassy.

I ignore him. 

“Hi, Dad. How are you today?” My voice is too bright, too enthusiastic. 

Father looks at me again, surprised at how joyful I sound. 

It’s been a while since I was a daughter to him. I always act grown—voice distant, always stubborn, always unwilling to listen to the voice of reason.

Yet here I am. 

“We are not going to have this conversation until you’ve agreed to my proposal, Adaline.” Father tells me, his tone serious.

“Actually,” I say, stepping closer, “that’s exactly why I’m here.”

He straightens in his seat and sets the papers down, his eyes narrowing into slits, watching me intently. “Go on.”

“Your friend,” I begin, “Michael Black, isn’t it?”

A small hum of agreement.

“Tell him I’m ready to be his wife.” I smile. “Make the announcement at my birthday ball tomorrow night.”

The room is silent for a long moment. Then, my father grins slowly, his head shaking. “Safe to say I told you so?” he asks.

“Don’t say it.” I tell him seriously. 

He nods with a smile. 

I don’t smile back.

I turn to leave, his voice stops me.

“Adaline?”

“Yes, dad?”

His teeth flash as he drags out the words that seals my pain. 

“I told you so.”