All Chapters of He thought he was the groom: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

It had been seven months since Ethan left me.At first, I didn’t handle it well. He kicked me out, and I had nowhere to stay. My apartment had been in his name too, so I had nothing but a few bags of clothes. My best friend, mara, insisted I move in with her. She has a small tiny apartment in the city, the one she had been renting since college, she made me move in with her.I avoided the small juice bar. Mara and I had called it The Corner Loft after a late-night brainstorming session fueled by too many smoothies and laughter. Ethan had celebrated there when he landed his first big record deal. I couldn’t bring myself to step inside.Then Mara had enough. She called me a hopeless mess, said I was crying over a selfish man, and practically shoved me back into my routine. Breaking thirteen years of old habits hasn’t been easy.Some nights, I still catch myself staring at my phone, waiting for a message that will never come. Waiting for Ethan to say he made a mistake, waiting for him to

Hours slip by, and Mara still hasn’t returned.I can’t stop wondering what she meant—what was so important that she couldn’t say over the phone.By the time I sober up, guilt and dread hang over me like a stormcloud. I drag myself into the shower, scrub my teeth until my gums ache, and keep my hands busy by scrubbing every inch of her apartment. Anything to stop thinking about him.But it doesn’t work.It never works.I open the email again. The glossy wedding invitation stares back at me, mocking me, right beside the details for that ridiculous couple-only cruise.And then I see it.My name, sitting where it doesn’t belong.My stomach twists violently, and I barely make it to the bathroom before everything I’ve eaten decides it wants out.Later, when the nausea fades and the silence of Mara’s apartment presses too heavy, I do something I swore I’d never do again.I stalk her Facebook profile.I made the mistake of opening Facebook, and that’s when it felt like the ground should split

“I can’t believe this!” The night feels too lonely, when I wake up the next morning. Mara isn’t in her room, which means she’s already gone to work. I lie there staring at the empty wall for a long time, letting everything she told me yesterday replay in my head until my chest aches. Clara. Ethan. The wedding. And now this ridiculous idea of his boss looking at me like I’m some… option. I sit up with a groan, grab my phone, and scroll through my notifications. My finger hovers over F******k again, but I shove the phone face-down on the bed before I do something stupid, like stalk Clara’s profile for the fiftieth time. Instead, I drag myself out of bed, pull on a hoodie, and shuffle into the kitchen. Mara must have known I’d need a pick-me-up because there’s a sticky note on the counter. Don’t mope. Coffee’s in the fridge. Heat it up. Eat something. PS: If you cry on the couch again, at least put down a towel first. I can’t help it, but laugh. Trust Mara to leave sass as a love

I was in my room when I got a text from Mara at night.“We need to talk”I don’t text Mara back that night.Not because I don’t want to, but because my brain feels like a blender stuck on high speed.She wants me to go to the wedding — no, not just go — she wants me to show up on Ethan’s big day as someone else’s date.Not just someone.His boss.I lie awake staring at the ceiling, running through every possible disaster scenario.What if I trip in the aisle and take out the entire front row?What if Ethan sees me and realizes I still care?What if I embarrass the boss so badly that he bans Ethan from music altogether just out of pity for having dated me?By morning, I’m convinced this is a terrible plan.So of course Mara shows up with coffee and a look on her face like she’s already won.“You didn’t text back,” she says, handing me my drink.“That’s because I was busy making a list of all the ways this could ruin my life.”She ignores that and sits on the edge of my bed. “Good. That

“You can’t wear that,” she says, pointing at my oversized T-shirt and shorts. “You look like… a sad potato.”I blink at her. “A sad potato?”“Yes! It’s tragic. People might feel sorry for you, and that’s not the vibe we’re going for.”Before I can protest, she’s already rifling through her closet. “No, no, no. This one!” She holds up a sleek, dark-green dress and shoves it at me. “Try it. You’ll thank me later.”I stare at the fabric. “Mara, what is all this fuss? Where exactly are we going? Why all the dressing and—”“You’ll see,” she says with a grin that makes me suspicious. “Just trust me.”Next, she sits me down at the vanity and starts applying light makeup. “Nothing heavy. Just enough so people know you didn’t roll out of bed five minutes ago. Eyeliner, a little blush, some lip gloss. Bam—instant classy.”I watch her work, half-amused and half-panicked. “Mara, I still don’t know where we’re headed, and you’re doing all this like it’s a gala or something.”She laughs. “Oh, Lyra.