On my birthday, my nearsighted boyfriend didn’t wear his glasses and accidentally slipped the engagement ring onto my best friend’s finger. Summer gasped, her hand freezing in mid-air as she made a show of trying to slide it off. But before she could, Christian spoke up. “It’s fine. Caroline doesn’t mind.” Summer let out a bright, easy laugh. “Honestly, Christian, only you could pull a stunt like this on such a big night.” I watched them giggle and banter, the warmth of the restaurant fading into a cold, sharp clarity. It was in that quiet moment that I finally decided to bow out of our little trio. For the five years we had been together, Christian’s favorite refrain was always that I didn’t mind. When the front passenger seat of his car went from being my exclusive spot to Summer’s because of her “severe motion sickness,” he told me I didn’t mind. When he took the project proposal I had stayed up for three nights straight to organize and put Summer’s name on the cover page, he told me I didn’t mind. And now, even when the ring meant for me was slipped onto another woman’s hand, his excuse remained unchanged. That single phrase had become his ultimate shield, a free pass to indulge his blatant favoritism toward Summer without ever having to feel guilty. Later, at the dinner table, our friends started chanting for me to make a wish. But Christian spoke first, his smile soft and affectionate. “I’ll make it for us. I wish that the three of us never, ever change.” The breeze from the open window blew out the candles on my cake, and with them, the very last embers of my love for him. For my new year, I closed my eyes and made a silent plea to whatever forces were listening: Let me never cross paths with Christian again for the rest of my life. … The dinner party ended in a heavy, awkward silence. Christian was the first to stand, reaching over to pick up Summer’s bright pink trench coat as naturally as if it were his own. I stood near the exit of the private dining room, watching him meticulously straighten her collar, smoothing out the fabric with practiced ease. He finally turned his gaze to me. “Caroline, Summer had a bit too much to drink tonight. I’m going to drive her home first.” He offered a patronizing smile. “Take an Uber back, okay? Be a good girl.” He reached out to pat my head, but I took a step back, letting his hand hang in the empty air. The atmosphere in the room turned instantly rigid. Our friends quickly chimed in, urging me not to make a big deal out of it. They began piling my birthday gifts into my arms all at once. Unable to hold them all, several packages slipped from my grip, scattering across the carpeted floor. Summer leaned into Christian, wrapping her arm tightly around his elbow. She blinked at me with a look of theatrical remorse. “Caroline, Christian is just looking out for me. You aren’t mad at me, are you?” I forced the corners of my mouth upward, keeping my voice level. “Of course not. Go ahead.” They walked out side-by-side, leaving me alone to kneel on the floor, gathering my dropped presents one by one. When I finally unlocked the door to our quiet, empty apartment and took off my coat, I realized my keys were missing their keychain. It was a small, hand-stitched leather piece I had crafted myself, embossed with the date of our anniversary. I remembered how Christian had tried to help me with the final thick stitches, his fingers getting so badly pricked by the heavy leather needle that they were dotted with tiny scabs. At the time, he had held my hands and promised, “I’ll never lose this, Caroline. Not in this lifetime.” But at dinner tonight, Summer had mentioned how much she loved it. Christian had simply smiled at me and said, “Caroline, Summer is always losing her keys. Let her use this one for a bit, and I’ll make you a brand-new one later.” I sat on the edge of the sofa, staring into the dark living room as memories of our years together played on a loop in my head. At 2:00 AM, the front door finally clicked open. Christian walked in, slipping his arms around me from behind. The distinct, heavy scent of gardenia perfume—Summer’s signature—clung to his clothes. He pulled a small box of cold medicine from his pocket and set it on the coffee table. “I heard you cough a couple of times during dinner. I stopped by a pharmacy on the way back to grab this for you.” The box was sealed, but the adhesive tape on the side had been torn halfway open. I looked at it, my voice flat. “Thanks. I already took something.” Christian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen lit up on the table, displaying a text from Summer: Just got in. Thanks for tonight, Christian. Goodnight. His long fingers flew across the screen as he typed a rapid reply, a tender, soft smile gracing his lips. I studied his profile in the dim light. “Christian, do you really think the way you and Summer act is appropriate?” “One of them is my boyfriend, and the other is my best friend. Yet you two seem to have an endless amount of private things to talk about.” His expression tightened. He leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to my forehead. “Caroline, don’t start overthinking again.” “You’re the one I love. Is your period coming up? You always get so sensitive when your hormones kick in.” Seeing his complete indifference, the urge to argue or demand an explanation died instantly inside me. That night, I opened my laptop, pulled up the relocation and transfer agreement for the Germany branch, and signed my name in the signature block. The next morning, Christian insisted on driving me to work. I habitually pulled down the passenger-side visor to check my hair, only to find a brand-new, lighted vanity mirror installed there. Christian cleared his throat quickly, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. “Summer insisted on putting that in. I told her no, but she…” I snapped the visor shut with a sharp clack and looked out the window. I had heard versions of this excuse a thousand times. It was a tired script, entirely incapable of hiding his absolute favoritism. The moment the car pulled up to my office building, Summer was already waiting by the entrance. She held a cup of coffee, which she handed to Christian through the open window with practiced familiarity. “Your iced Americano, Christian. Oh, and about the contract details for the Westside project this morning…” The two of them fell into step, walking side-by-side into the lobby, their voices fading as they discussed project timelines. It wasn’t until they reached the elevator bank that Summer suddenly realized I had been left behind. She jogged back toward me, wrapping her arm through mine. “Caroline, I am so, so sorry! The project details are just so urgent today, I completely lost track of things.” Christian stood by the open elevator doors, his gaze resting on me with cool composure. “It’s fine. Caroline doesn’t mind things like this.” I looked down at Summer’s hand clutching my arm, then looked up at Christian, offering him a peaceful, empty smile. “Right. I don’t mind.” The department meeting began promptly at ten. The spacious conference room was packed with department heads and executives. Summer stood at the front of the room, presenting the project proposal I had spent weeks preparing, speaking with supreme confidence. My mind drifted back to two nights ago, when Christian had knelt by my knees, gripping my hands tightly with eyes full of desperate pleading. “Caroline, Summer just joined the department. She desperately needs this project to prove herself and secure her position.” “Let her have this proposal. You two have been friends for over a decade. You can’t just watch her fail.” He seemed to have entirely forgotten that I, too, needed this exact project to secure my own promotion. Looking at her on the stage, a suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. I stood up, planning to step out into the hallway to get some air. Christian followed me out almost immediately, pressing a company credit card into my hand. “Caroline, if you walk out now, everyone in there is going to think you and Summer are having a falling out.” “Why don’t you head downstairs and grab coffee for the team? I forwarded the department’s order list to your phone.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. “Sure.” The moment the elevator doors closed, I let the tears fall freely. During my first year at the company, I was treated like an glorified intern. My daily routine consisted of copying files, fetching lunch orders, and running down the street for coffee. When Christian found out back then, he had marched straight into my manager’s office, furious. “Caroline’s title is Project Specialist. She was hired to do actual work, not to be your personal courier.” I walked to the coffee shop on the corner under the glaring midday sun, carrying back three cardboard trays loaded with drinks. The receptionist helped me carry some of the cups into the breakroom, leaning in with a curious whisper. “Hey, Caroline, are Christian and Summer dating? They look so perfect together. Total power couple vibes.” I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Really? But the three of you are always together.” Christian and I had been together for seven years, yet at work, I existed like a shadow kept in the dark. Even when he had defended me years ago, he had never publicly acknowledged our relationship. In contrast, the rumors about him and Summer over the past two years had become common knowledge. I carried the tray of coffees back to the conference room, stopping when I saw the door was cracked open. Through the glass, I could see Summer playfully hitting Christian’s shoulder. Christian caught her by the wrist, laughing as their coworkers watched with knowing, teasing smiles. The moment I stepped inside, Christian let go of her wrist, though the warmth in his eyes remained. “Caroline, great news! Summer’s proposal was approved unanimously! Her promotion is basically a done deal now!” I didn’t say a word, placing the coffee cups in front of everyone one by one. When I handed Summer hers, her hand slipped halfway through the transfer. The cup tipped, and scalding hot coffee poured directly over the back of my hand. The skin turned a violent, angry red instantly, a fierce burning sensation ripping through my nerves. I gasped, flinching back from the pain. Christian’s face paled. He grabbed my wrist to look at the burn, his brows furrowing deeply. But before he could speak, Summer’s eyes welled with tears, her lower lip trembling. “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I didn’t mean to. I just… I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I got so dizzy for a second.” Hearing that, the worry in Christian’s eyes shifted entirely to her. He still held my hand, but his words were directed at comforting Summer. “It’s okay, don’t blame yourself.” “Caroline is tough. She’ll be fine.” The raw, stinging heat on my skin was nothing compared to the cold ache settling deep in my chest. I pulled my hand out of his grip with a sharp tug, taking two steps back. “I’m going to take some sick leave and go to the clinic.” Christian started to say he would come with me, but Summer gently intervened. “Christian, you have that budget meeting this afternoon. You can’t miss it.” “How about I accompany Caroline instead?” I shook my head, walking past them. “No need.” I took a taxi to the hospital alone. The doctor was clinical and thorough, popping the blisters and disinfecting the raw skin. The pain made my vision blur. “This is a deep second-degree burn,” the doctor warned, wrapping my hand in sterile gauze. “If you don’t take care of it, it will scar. Keep it dry and away from water for the next few days.” As I sat in the waiting room, my phone vibrated with a social media notification. Summer had just posted an update. It was a photo of a limited-edition designer handbag sitting on her desk. The caption read: Thank you to a very special someone for the promotion gift! Absolutely obsessed! I had pointed out that exact bag to Christian months ago in a boutique window. He had told me it was a worldwide waiting list and completely impossible to get. It wasn’t impossible. I just wasn’t the person he wanted to buy it for. A few minutes later, a notification popped up on my phone. Christian had sent me five thousand dollars via Zelle, followed by a text: Don’t be mad, sweetie. Today was my fault. Use this to buy yourself a nice bag, and wait for me to get home tonight. I looked at the message, a self-deprecating laugh slipping from my lips, and hit ‘Decline Payment.’ Just then, an email from my university professor popped up in my inbox, confirming my selection. I typed out a quick reply: I accept the relocation to the Munich project team. Ready for the one-year closed-door assignment. The apartment was quiet when Christian came home. He sat beside me on the sofa, gently holding my bandaged hand, silent for a long time. His eyes grew red as he stared at the white gauze. “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I didn’t think it was this bad.” “I really didn’t mean for this to happen. I just thought…” I watched him, offering no reaction. “Things have been so crazy at the office lately, and the Vice President position is finally opening up. The pressure is eating me alive.” He squeezed my fingers gently. “Once I secure the promotion, we’ll get married. I promise.” I looked at his face, and for a fleeting second, the man before me overlapped with the eighteen-year-old boy who had stood beneath the podium at the State Chemistry Olympiad. Back then, we were fierce rivals. Our names always sat side-by-side at the top of the leaderboard, trading first and second place back and forth. We challenged each other, argued until we were blue in the face, and eventually became inseparable partners. Summer had despised him back then. “Caroline, why do you hang out with him? He’s so hyper-competitive. All he cares about is being number one.” Knowing how much her opinion mattered to me, Christian had organized a grand, public confession in front of the entire school to win my heart—and eventually, Summer’s approval. At eighteen, Christian’s love was fierce, bright, and loud. He was willing to stand against the world for me, his devotion burning like the summer sun. But somewhere along the way, he and Summer had grown closer, and I had been pushed to the cold periphery of my own life. I gently pulled my hand out of his grasp. “Christian, do you remember what you told me when we were eighteen?” “You said if you ever stopped loving me, you would tell me directly.” His body went rigid. He pulled me into a tight, desperate embrace, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Don’t talk like that, Caroline.” “Summer and I are just colleagues. She’s new, and she’s struggling with the learning curve, so I’m helping her out. The only reason we even hang out outside of work is because of you. You’re our bridge. We would never cross the line.” The words felt like ice, freezing the last bit of warmth left in my chest. The atmosphere at the office the next morning was tense. One of my junior team members had formally reported Summer to HR for plagiarizing my proposal. The entire department sat in a suffocating silence as the HR director reviewed the files. My colleagues kept glancing at me, their eyes filled with quiet, protective support. Summer’s face was completely drained of color. But Christian stood up without a single trace of hesitation. “Caroline copied Summer’s files out of curiosity a few days ago. That’s why the draft was found on her local drive.” “They’ve already resolved this privately. There was no plagiarism.” The room remained dead silent. Every eye turned to me. Christian stepped closer to my chair, keeping his voice incredibly low, meant only for my ears. “Caroline, just take the hit on this one. If you do, we’ll get married next month. I’ll make it up to you.” I looked at him, the corners of my lips lifting into a faint, empty smile. I grabbed a blank sheet of paper from my notebook, grabbed a pen, and wrote three words in bold letters: Letter of Resignation. “Mr. Director,” I said, sliding the paper across the desk. “I’m resigning. I’m done.” The room froze. A few people cleared their throats nervously, while others began quietly gathering their files, slipping out of the room in small groups. Summer walked over to me, her eyes red and swimming with tears. “Caroline, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to ruin things for you.” The tears spilled down her cheeks, a picture-perfect display of vulnerability. I simply smiled. Fifteen years of friendship, ending in a farce. Christian rubbed his temples, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Caroline, there’s absolutely no need to resign over a misunderstanding.” I pushed the letter closer to him. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’ll complete my hand-off over the next two days.” “I’m tired of being here. I need a change of scenery.” He frowned, studying my face for a long moment before letting out a long sigh. “Fine. Take some time off. I’ll book you a trip to Iceland. Go clear your head.” I went back to my desk without a word and started packing my things into a cardboard box. The only thing I left behind was the framed photo at the corner of my desk—a picture of the three of us laughing on our college graduation day. A chime sounded from my phone. It was an email confirmation for the Iceland tour Christian had booked. I deleted it without reading. By the time I dragged my suitcase out of the apartment we had shared for three years, he still hadn’t come home. Sitting in the bustling departure terminal of the airport, my phone began to ring. It was Christian. I hesitated, wondering how I would explain why I wasn’t on a flight to Reykjavik. Ultimately, I decided to give our five years together a clean, dignified ending. The moment I pressed accept, his frustrated voice came through the line. “Caroline, that plagiarism accusation still managed to freeze Summer’s promotion.” “Can you write a formal statement? Just say you accidentally copied her files. It doesn’t have to be complicated.” I said nothing. He paused, then continued, his tone softening. “It’s just a little bit of office gossip, Caroline. Once I get the Vice President position, I’ll bring you back and promote you myself. No one will dare say a word to you then.” “And once you’re Vice President,” I asked quietly, “what roles do Summer and I get?” There was a brief silence on the other end. “Summer will get the Manager position. And you…” He lowered his voice, adopting a soothing, placating tone. “A Director role. That’s a huge step up.” I couldn’t even remember when it had started—this unspoken rule that the best things in life always had to be saved for Summer. When we shared a watermelon, the sweet center had to go to Summer. And now, the higher career path belonged to her too. I didn’t wait for him to finish his empty promises. I hung up the phone and immediately blocked both his number and Summer’s. As the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, my phone lit up with a message from an old contact—our wedding planner. Caroline! Congratulations! Christian contacted us today to finalize the venue deposit and lock in the vintage estate package you loved… A dull, familiar ache throbbed in my chest. The dream wedding I had wanted for years had turned into nothing more than leverage to force me into taking the fall for plagiarism. I typed out a quick reply: Please cancel the booking. The wedding is off. I won’t be marrying him. I picked up my carry-on, joined the queue of passengers, and boarded the flight to Germany. Our messy, crowded story ended right there.
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