Chapter 2

The air in the elegant garden venue turned thick and heavy. The cheerful string quartet had fallen silent, and the hundred or so guests stood like statues, their eyes darting between me, Liam, and the sparkling ring I had left on the table. The silence was absolute, broken only by the distant chirp of a bird, oblivious to the human drama unfolding.

Brittany was the first to break the spell. She let out a soft, theatrical sob.

"Oh, Chloe, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault. Please don't do this. Don't ruin your special day because of my stupid mistake."

She clung to Liam's arm, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her apology was for the audience, but her grip on Liam was for me. It was a clear message: He's mine.

Liam, as if on cue, wrapped his arm around her protectively. He stroked her hair, murmuring soft words of comfort that I couldn't quite hear, but the intimacy of the gesture was a public spectacle. He was comforting the person who had just humiliated me, right in front of everyone we knew.

"She's just emotional, Britt," Liam said loudly enough for me to hear. "It's the stress of the day."

One of his aunts, a woman who had always adored Brittany, chimed in from the crowd. "That's right, Liam. Brides get worked up. Chloe, dear, don't be rash. Brittany has been like a daughter to our family. She would never intentionally do anything to hurt you."

The excuse was so weak, so transparent, that a bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. I looked at the torn fabric of my dress, a perfect, deliberate rip right down the center. It wasn't the work of a clumsy misstep. It was an act of aggression.

I finally found my voice, and it was sharper than I expected.

"Really, Brittany?" I asked, my gaze fixed on her. "You tripped? Or did you just want to make sure everyone here knows who really comes first in Liam's life?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and accusatory.

Brittany flinched as if I had slapped her, her eyes filling with real tears this time-tears of frustration, not remorse.

Liam's face darkened. He turned on me, his voice low and angry.

"What is wrong with you, Chloe? That's a horrible thing to say. She's a guest at our wedding. She's my best friend. Are you really going to treat her like this?"

He lowered his voice even more, stepping toward me. "Look at her, she's devastated. Can't you just let it go for once? She' s sensitive. You know that."

He was gaslighting me again, painting my valid anger as an overreaction and her malicious act as a simple, childlike mistake.

Brittany peeked out from behind his arm, her face a mask of wounded innocence. "It's okay, Liam. Maybe Chloe is right. Maybe I shouldn't have even come. I just cause trouble."

Her words were a masterclass in manipulation, designed to make Liam see her as the victim and me as the cruel aggressor.

It worked perfectly.

Liam looked at me with pure, undiluted disappointment. It was a look that said, 'How could you be so cruel? How could you upset Brittany like this?' His concern was entirely for her. My humiliation, my ruined wedding, my feelings-they didn't even register.

In that moment, the last flicker of hope I had for us died. It wasn't just this one incident. It was the accumulation of a thousand tiny betrayals. It was the constant feeling of being an outsider in my own relationship. I had sacrificed so much for him, for us. I had turned down a promotion that required relocation. I had learned to cook the bland, simple food he preferred because Brittany was a picky eater and often joined us for dinner. I had shrunk my life to fit into the small space he allowed me, the space that wasn't already occupied by her.

And for what? To be publicly shamed and then told I was the one in the wrong for being upset.

A profound exhaustion settled deep in my bones. I was so tired of fighting for his attention, tired of competing with a ghost from his past who was very much a part of his present. I was tired of this whole sad, pathetic dynamic.

I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to be angry.

I just wanted it to be over.