Where Love Is More Desolate Than Life

That photo of my fiancee, Izzy Williams, and I had been taken at a photography studio a week ago.

On that day, Conrad Newman, my best friend, kept fussing over the collar of my suit jacket while talking my ear off. As I stared into the mirror, I noticed how his smile looked even brighter than mine. It was as if he were the groom who was about to get married instead.

"You look so handsome like this, Jamie. But of course, that's only to be expected from my best buddy," he declared before his voice started sounding a little choked up. "That rotten Izzy is the luckiest woman alive."

Izzy was sitting nearby, adjusting her veil. When she heard her name, she looked up and flashed us a pleasant smile. But for some reason, her smile looked a little strained to me.

"You're exaggerating," I said as I pulled Conrad's hand away. "I would've been fine with any random suit, but you insisted on taking me suit shopping."

"There's no way I could let you do that!" Conrad's eyes widened comically. "My best friend in the entire world is only ever going to get married once. He can't just do it in a random suit!"

Turning to Izzy, he asked, "Don't you agree with me?"

Izzy put down her veil and came over, taking my hand with familiar ease. "It wouldn't matter. Jamie looks good no matter what he wears. But I have to admit that this suit complements you rather well."

She looked me up and down, her tone bashful and her eyes full of admiration.

Before we left to take some outdoor shots, Conrad had secretly snapped a photo of us from behind. I heard the shutter sound and turned around to look at him. He said he wanted to capture this moment to remember it.

A couple of days before the wedding, I got completely hammered during my bachelor party. Conrad took care of me without a second thought. When Izzy came to pick me up, he was carefully wiping my face with a damp face towel.

"Leave Jamie to me," he said to Izzy. "It's his bachelor party tonight. As the future bride, you're not allowed to disturb him."

Izzy stood in the doorway without coming in. Her eyes lingered on Conrad, her expression unreadable. As I slumped against the couch, I saw them through my hazy, half-lidded eyes.

"Izzy…" I called out, my speech slurred.

She finally looked at me and came over to hug me. "Why did you drink so much?"

"Because he's happy that he's getting married, of course!" Conrad chimed in with a laugh. "Back in college, he already said that if he ever got married, he would get plastered during his bachelor party. Well, his wish finally came true."

I had indeed said that once while watching a romance movie with Conrad. At the time, we also promised to be each other's best man. Eventually, I got into a relationship, and the promise remained the same.

Izzy helped me to my feet before saying to Conrad, "Thanks for taking care of him."

"It's nothing," Conrad said before abruptly lowering his voice. "After all, it's the last time."

I was too drunk to catch the connotation in his words.

I remained blissfully unaware until the early hours of dawn the next morning, when I woke up at the hotel and saw the notification about the latest post on my social media feed.

My head was still groggy when I clicked into it, but immediately after, my hangover seemed to vanish, leaving me with perfect clarity.