His 'Practice' Bride, Her Real Wedding

For five years, Ava Miller navigated a passionate, secret relationship with Ethan Hayes, her best friend's younger brother. High above the New York skyline, she lived in their bubble, cherishing his touch and believing his fervent promises that their hidden love would "soon" be revealed to the world. She devoted herself, feeling vibrant and truly loved.

One devastating night, her carefully constructed world shattered. Hiding just outside a half-open door, Ava overheard Ethan tell his closest friends she was nothing more than "great practice"-a mere "walking manual" for him to hone his boyfriend skills for his true, long-held obsession, Chloe Vance. Five years of her life, dismissed as a calculated "training program."

The revelation was a gut punch. Ethan, the man who pursued her so ardently, abandoned her at her sickest to fuss over Chloe's minor scrape. He allowed Chloe to publicly gloat, calling Ava a "warm-up act" and "convenient." Every tender word, every intimate gesture, now felt like a meticulously rehearsed lie. The man she loved saw her as a disposable tool.

How could someone be so callous? Was her entire five-year relationship a horrifying, humiliating charade? The sheer audacity, the betrayal, left her reeling, disgraced and utterly heartbroken. What was she if not a placeholder, a learning experience for someone else?

Refusing to be a discarded practice doll any longer, Ava made a stark choice. She severed all ties, sold her life in New York, and fled to Charleston, determined to build a new, honest life-one where she was truly valued. But would her past, and Ethan's eventual realization, allow her to move on untouched?

The city lights blurred below the penthouse window, a million tiny stars trapped on earth.

Ethan's arm was tight around my waist, his lips on my neck.

His touch was electric, always.

"No one will come up here," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my skin.

This was our bubble, high above New York, a secret world carved out of his family's endless properties.

Five years.

Five years of stolen moments like this, of hushed whispers and hurried touches.

I was Ava Miller, successful marketing director, a woman who had her life together.

Except for this one, all-consuming secret.

Ethan Hayes, my best friend Olivia's younger brother, was the center of my universe.

He was younger, wilder, a beautiful, charming boy who had somehow become my man.

I loved his energy, the way he made me feel alive, young again.

But sometimes, the secrecy felt heavy, a coat I couldn't take off.

He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes searching mine.

"You're mine, Ava. You know that, right?"

His voice was soft, but the possessiveness was there, a thread I usually found comforting.

"Always, Ethan. Only yours." I meant it. Every word.

I snuggled closer, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Ethan," I started, my voice a little shaky. "When can we... when can this be real? For everyone to see?"

He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, stroking my hair.

"Soon, baby. I promise. Just a little longer. I have things to sort out, you know? With the family, with everything."

His promises were always vague, always "soon."

But tonight, I chose to believe him. I needed to.

A wave of relief washed over me. "Okay."

He kissed me then, deep and lingering, a kiss that sealed his promise, or so I hoped.

"I have to go," he said, pulling away. "Got to meet up with Mark and Jason."

He gave me one last, quick kiss and was gone, leaving me alone with the city lights and his lingering scent.

I waited a few minutes, then decided to head down. Maybe I'd catch Olivia before she left the gallery event downstairs.

As I neared the private elevator, I heard voices from a side lounge, the door slightly ajar.

Ethan's voice. And his friends, Mark and Jason.

"So, Chloe's really coming back next week?" Mark asked.

My stomach clenched. Chloe Vance. Ethan's high school obsession. The one he never quite got over, or so Olivia had once joked.

"Yep," Ethan said, his voice light, almost smug. "My 'white moonlight' returns."

Jason laughed. "And Ava? What happens to your little five-year training program then? Graduation day?"

Training program?

My blood ran cold.

Ethan chuckled, a sound that made my skin crawl.

"Exactly. Ava's been great practice. Learned a lot about what women want, how to be the perfect boyfriend. She's practically a walking manual."

His words hit me, each one a physical blow.

"So all this... with Ava... it was just to get good for Chloe?" Mark sounded incredulous.

"Pretty much," Ethan confirmed, his tone casual, like he was discussing a business strategy. "Ava's smart, sophisticated. If I can keep her happy, Chloe will be a piece of cake. Besides, Ava's so into me, she'd never suspect. She's just... convenient."

Convenient. Practice. A walking manual.

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. My carefully constructed world shattered into a million pieces.

My breath hitched. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, so intense it buckled my knees.

I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle a sob, a raw, animal sound of pure agony.

I stumbled back, away from the door, away from his voice.

I fled. Down the emergency stairs, my heels clattering, tears streaming down my face.

Five years.

I remembered meeting him at Olivia's college graduation party. He was just a kid, really, barely twenty-one, but with a confidence that was captivating.

He'd pursued me relentlessly, charmingly.

The secrecy had been his idea. "Our special secret, Ava. It makes it more exciting, doesn't it?"

And I, older, supposedly wiser, had fallen for it. For him.

Now I saw it all. The vague promises. The way he kept me separate from his "real" life.

It wasn't excitement he was after. It was concealment.

I was a tool. A stepping stone.

My love, my devotion, my hopes for a future – they were just part of his "training."

The realization crushed me. I wasn't a partner; I was a project.

And the project was about to be terminated because the real objective, Chloe, was coming back.

I reached the street, gasping for air, the cool night air doing nothing to soothe the fire in my soul.

I wouldn't be his discarded practice doll.

I had to get out. Away from him. Away from this city that now felt like a cage.

My mind, surprisingly, went clear through the pain.

There was only one thing to do.

Leave.

My parents were surprised when I called them the next morning.

"Charleston? You want to move to Charleston? Ava, honey, what's brought this on so suddenly?" my mom asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I just need a change, Mom. A fresh start," I said, keeping my voice even, detached.

I couldn't tell them the truth. Not yet. It was too raw, too humiliating.

"But your job? Your apartment?" Dad chimed in.

"I'll figure it out. I just... I need this."

After a few more minutes of trying to reassure them without revealing anything, I ended the call.

I drove back to my apartment, the one Ethan didn't have a key to, my sanctuary.

Or so I thought.

He was there.

Leaning against my door, looking impossibly handsome and completely out of place.

"Hey," he said, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "You disappeared last night."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.

"I... I wasn't feeling well," I mumbled, fumbling for my keys.

He pushed himself off the door, stepping closer, invading my space.

"Better now?" he asked, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek.

He tried to lean in for a kiss.

I flinched, turning my head slightly so his lips brushed my hair.

"Ethan, don't."

His eyes, usually so full of playful charm, narrowed.

"What's wrong, Ava? You're acting weird."

Weird? I was acting weird?

I wanted to scream, to rage, to claw at his perfect face.

Instead, I took a deep breath.

"I told you, I'm not feeling well. I think I'm coming down with something."

He frowned, his hand dropping from my face.

"You were fine last night at the gallery."

"It came on suddenly," I said, pushing past him to unlock my door.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it.

A smile, a genuine, radiant smile, lit up his face. The kind of smile I hadn't seen directed at me in a long, long time.

"Chloe," he breathed, his attention completely gone from me. "She's landed. I gotta go."

He was out the door before I could even register his words, leaving me standing in my hallway, the echo of her name hanging in the air.

Chloe. Of course.

The fresh start couldn't come soon enough.

I remembered all the times he'd made grand gestures. Surprise trips, expensive gifts, declarations of love whispered in the dark.

All practice. All for her.

The thought made me sick. Literally.

A wave of nausea hit me, and I barely made it to the bathroom in time.

My body ached, my head throbbed. The emotional turmoil was taking its toll.

I collapsed into bed, a fever creeping up on me.

Hours later, I woke up disoriented, my throat raw. I was burning up.

I tried to call Olivia, but my hands were shaking too much.

Then, a key turned in my lock.

Ethan.

He must have taken my spare key at some point. Another violation.

He found me, delirious and shivering.

To his credit, he looked alarmed.

"Ava! What the hell?"

He bundled me up and rushed me to the nearest hospital emergency room.

The place was chaotic. Flu season, apparently.

He got me settled in a cubicle, his face etched with concern.

"I'll go sort out the paperwork," he said, squeezing my hand.

A tiny, treacherous part of me felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he did care.

Then, a familiar, saccharine voice cut through the noise.

"Ethan? Oh my god, is that you?"

Chloe Vance. In the flesh. Looking like a porcelain doll, even with a slight limp.

Ethan's head snapped up. His eyes locked on her.

And just like that, I ceased to exist.

He dropped my hand, his concern for me vanishing like smoke.

"Chloe! What happened to you?" He rushed to her side, all solicitous attention.

"Oh, just a little tumble at the airport. My ankle," she said, pouting prettily. "And my poor Fifi is sick too, the flight stressed her out." She indicated a designer pet carrier.

He was immediately by her side, fussing over her, his voice dripping with a tenderness he rarely showed me anymore.

I watched, a dull ache spreading through my chest, as he guided Chloe to a more comfortable seat, his arm around her.

He completely forgot about me.

I was sick, burning with fever, and he left me to tend to his high school crush's twisted ankle and her stressed-out dog.

After a while, when it became clear he wasn't coming back for me, I dragged myself up.

I found a nurse, my voice raspy. "I need to see a doctor."

The IV drip they started for me went wrong. My arm swelled, a painful throb.

No one was supervising it closely.

A doctor finally came by, frowning. "Where's the person who brought you in? You shouldn't be alone in this state."

Alone. Yes. That was me.

Just then, Ethan reappeared, looking flustered.

"Sorry, Ava. Chloe needed... she was really shaken up."

He didn't even notice my swollen arm.

I just looked at him, too tired, too heartbroken to say anything.

He offered a weak smile. "You okay?"

I nodded, a lie.

What else was there to do?