The call came just before the wedding, from our wedding planner Amy. Her voice buzzed with excitement. “Miss Seraphina, we’ve finished the edit of Mr. Blake Harrison’s proposal video. It’s stunning. May we share it on our company account for promotion?” I froze for a second, then smiled. Blake and I had been together seven years. Our proposal was simple and spontaneous, just a casual suggestion after dinner. I thought this video was his secret, romantic surprise for me. “Of course,” I agreed cheerfully. After hanging up, I clicked on the planner’s social media. The latest video’s thumbnail showed Blake’s handsome profile. The caption read: “A Timeless Love Story. Seven Years Strong, He Gave Her the Surprise Proposal of a Lifetime.” I pressed play. The video was beautifully shot. Blake’s eyes held deep affection, enough to drown in. Then the camera shifted to show the woman in front of him. She stood in a white dress, hands clasped over her mouth in delight. My breath caught. The woman wasn’t me.
Seraphina POV By the time I fully registered her face, all the blood in my veins ran cold. It was Willow. Blake’s “bestie,” the one he swore was “like a sister.” In the video, he was kneeling, sliding the diamond ring-my ring-onto her finger. The comments section drowned in heart emojis and cries of “True love goals!” I closed the app. Two weeks ago, Blake had said he needed to do a favor for Willow, who was “so scared of commitment.” So this was the favor. A proposal more elaborate than the one he’d ever given me. Right then, a notification lit up my screen. A message from Blake. “What should we do for dinner tonight?” I left it on read. I screenshotted their embrace and posted it on Ins. My caption was brutal: “Dreams come true. Congrats to my fiancé Blake Harrison and his ‘bestie’ on their happy ending. Enjoy!” Blake called instantly, his voice seething. “Seraphina! What is this? Delete it now!” “Who’s the crazy one here, you or me?” I fired back. “I told you! It was a favor for Willow! She wanted to experience it! As her best friend, how could I refuse?” When I stayed silent, Blake seemed to hear his own anger. He took a breath, softening his tone slightly. “You know Willow’s ‘anti-marriage.’ She’s family to all of us. Nothing is going on. Don’t be dramatic.” His words struck me as utterly absurd. “Dramatic? So, unless you help her ‘experience’ her wedding night too, I’m ‘dramatic’?!” Blake roared, his anger flaring. “Seraphina! Don’t be so disgusting! Do you think everyone’s as high-maintenance as you? Willow has always been upfront; she’s not as twisted as you are!” “Fine, I’m twisted. I’ve desecrated your sacred friendship.” At that moment, I just felt exhausted. “I’m not marrying you.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. I just hung up.
Seraphina POV Half an hour later, the door was swung open. Blake stormed in, rage burning in his eyes. “Seraphina!” He pointed at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Explain yourself! What do you mean, ‘not marrying you’?!” I sat on the sofa, not even glancing his way. Blake grew even angrier. “Delete that Ins post immediately and go apologize to Willow! Otherwise, this wedding…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I stood up and slammed our wedding invitations onto the coffee table in front of him. Blake froze. “What are you doing with those?” I didn’t answer. Right in front of him, I pulled out one card and tore it forcefully. “Are you insane?! Stop that!” Blake reacted, trying to snatch them away. It was too late. I didn’t stop. I shredded all the remaining invitations, then tossed the pieces into the air. I watched Blake’s stunned expression and calmly told him, “I said, I’m not marrying you. So these things are useless now.” Blake was completely stunned by my actions. His shock quickly turned into furious indignation. “Fine! Seraphina, this is your choice. Don’t you dare regret it!” He threw the harsh words at me, then slammed the door shut as he left. I looked at the mess on the floor and felt, instead, a sense of lightness. When did I start losing myself, becoming so utterly pathetic in this relationship? My own proposal was Blake’s casual “Let’s get married” after dinner. I even picked out my own ring. For seven years, I’d numbed myself with the excuse that “he’s just not romantic.” But that meticulously planned proposal for Willow on TikTok? It ripped my lies to shreds. He wasn’t unromantic; he just couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort for me. Memories flooded back. Willow always rode shotgun in Blake’s car. His excuse? “She gets motion sickness in the back.” We’d make plans for a movie, but one call from Willow saying her game needed another player, and he’d ditch me in an instant. The money we’d worked so hard to save? He even suggested we lend it to Willow first for her “startup.” My every complaint was met with Blake’s dismissive “Why are you always so petty?” Seven years. I changed so much for Blake, learned to tolerate so much. I didn’t lose to love. I lost to him, and to his best friend who clearly didn’t understand personal space. Now, I refused to tolerate it anymore. Picking up my phone, I started making calls, one by one, canceling everything related to the wedding. “Amy, I’m so sorry, the wedding is off. Please keep the deposit.” “Hello, I need to cancel the wedding banquet for next month.” With every call, a layer of that seven-year weight fell away. Seven years wasted on a dog, but at least it wasn’t a lifetime. The relief was real. I’d gotten out in time.
Seraphina POV After Blake stormed out, my Instagram notifications blew up. Willow had just posted. The photos were a series of goofy selfies of her and Blake, but their poses screamed intimacy. The caption was a masterpiece of fake nonchalance: “Oops, got a little carried away living out a ‘what-if’ scenario! So sorry if it confused anyone. We’re just two chronically single besties who got a bit too into the bit. Back to our regularly scheduled programming!” Immediately, my phone began to ring off the hook. The messages were all from our mutual friends, their wording almost identical. “Seraphina, it was just a joke, don’t take it seriously.” “Seven years of a relationship isn’t easy, delete your Ins post and give Blake a way out.” “You know Willow’s personality, she’s like one of the guys, don’t overthink it.” I looked at these messages and let out a cold laugh. Everyone was on their moral high horse, telling me to “be the bigger person.” I saw it clearly: they were protecting that little circle centered around Blake. These people were Blake’s and Willow’s friends, never mine. I didn’t reply to a single message. I opened each chat, found their names, and blocked them, one by one, with resolute finality. After purging them, my phone rang again. It was Mrs. Harrison, Blake’s mother. I answered. “Hello.” On the other end, Mrs. Harrison’s voice was laced with that familiar maternal pressure. “Seraphina, Blake told me you two had a fight. Why are you breaking up over a silly little joke?” “It wasn’t a joke.” “Willow’s like a daughter to us, I watched her grow up. She and Blake have always been a bit wild together, you should be more understanding.” Mrs. Harrison’s words were all about defending Willow. “As Blake’s future wife, you need to be more understanding.” “Listen to me, delete that Ins post, and this whole thing can be over. Don’t let relatives and friends make fun of us.” And just like that, I understood exactly where Blake’s complete lack of boundaries came from. Willow’s presence was openly condoned. If I actually married him, the future was suffocating just to imagine. I cut her off. “This isn’t a joke; it’s a matter of principle. Blake and I have broken up. This decision won’t change.” Mrs. Harrison’s displeasure was palpable. “You child, why are you being so unreasonable?” I didn’t want to argue anymore. “Sorry, I have to go.” I hung up and blocked her number too.
Seraphina POV After hanging up with Mrs. Harrison, I thought of the wedding dress. It was my main gown, the one I’d personally helped design, making over a dozen trips to the studio. Now that I’d decided to break things off, I needed to deal with it-at least pay the final balance or see if it could be returned. I took a cab to the haute couture bridal shop. As I approached the VIP fitting room, before I even pushed the door open, I heard a familiar laugh from inside. “Wow, Blake, does it look good?” My hand froze on the doorknob. It was Willow’s voice. Then came Blake’s voice, full of doting affection. “Gorgeous! It looks custom-made for you, Willow. You’re beautiful in a wedding dress.” I shoved the door open. In front of the full-length mirror, Willow was twirling around, wearing my fishtail white gown. The layers of lace, the intricate details-I’d stayed up late sketching and refining those. Now, they were on another woman. And my fiancé, Blake, was holding his phone, finding angles to photograph her. Hearing the door, they both turned. Seeing me, a flicker of awkwardness crossed Blake’s face. “Seraphina? What are you doing here?” Willow, holding up her skirt, approached me with a sickeningly innocent smile. “Seraphina, don’t get the wrong idea! I just saw this dress. It was too beautiful not to try. You know I’m against marriage. I’ll never have a real wedding. So I thought, why not have a little pretend moment before yours?” She twirled, her skirt brushing my feet. “Seraphina, you don’t mind, do you? I’ll only wear it for ten minutes.” I looked at her, then at Blake. “Take it off.” Blake frowned. “Seraphina, what’s with the temper tantrum again? Willow was just curious; it’s not like she’ll ruin it.” “This is my wedding dress,” I stared at Blake. “It was custom-made for me. I was going to wear it on my wedding day. Blake, do you have any sense of decency at all?” “Are you done yet?” Blake impatiently put down his phone. “Willow is my best friend. It’s just a dress. Is it really worth getting so angry over? Fine, maybe I’ll just give her this dress for her to take pictures in later.” Give it to her? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. My custom-made wedding dress, in his mouth, had become an item to appease another woman. “Oh no, Blake, don’t yell at Seraphina, it’s all my fault.” Willow put on a tearful act, trying to grab my hand in feigned panic. Just then, the glass of bright red strawberry fruit tea in her hand slipped. The red tea splashed out, most of it spilling onto the pristine white skirt of the wedding dress. Large, dark red stains rapidly bloomed across the snow-white lace. “Ah!” Willow shrieked, covering her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Blake’s first reaction wasn’t even to look at the dress. He immediately pulled Willow closer, anxiously checking her hands and clothes. “Are you okay? Not burned, are you? Did you get your clothes dirty?” After confirming Willow was fine, he finally turned to the ruined dress and frowned at me. “See what you did? You had to come over and yell at her, scaring Willow so much she couldn’t even hold her cup steady. It’s fine. It’s just a little fruit tea stain, the staff can just send it for dry cleaning. Don’t make such a fuss.” I looked at the destroyed dress, my heart sinking further. “No need to clean it.” I looked up. “I find things that have been dirtied disgusting.” Blake froze. “What do you mean?” I turned, walked directly to the counter, and slapped the unpaid balance receipt onto the table. “Manager, I’m not returning this wedding dress. I’m paying the full balance now.” “Since Miss Willow likes it so much and also stained it, then Mr. Harrison can pay for it in full. Blake, didn’t you just say you wanted to give it to her for photos? Pay up.” Blake’s eyes widened. “Seraphina, are you insane? That’s hundreds of thousands of dollars!” “What? You don’t want to spend money on your dear ‘sister’?” I said. “Weren’t you so generous just now?” The surrounding staff and customers all stared, whispering and pointing. Blake gritted his teeth, pulled out his credit card, and slammed it onto the table. “Swipe it! It’s just a damn dress! Only you would treat it like a treasure! I’m buying it for Willow, so you can stop being sarcastic.” The card went through. Willow was still feigning reluctance. “Blake, it’s too expensive, I can’t take it…” “Take it!” Blake, scrambling to salvage the situation, barked the order. “Wear the damn thing whenever you like!” I met his gaze and gave a single, slow nod. “Remember you said that. The dress is yours now.” Then I turned and walked out of the bridal salon His frustrated shout chased after me. “Seraphina! Get back here! What is this now? You’re being impossible!” I didn’t stop. Tears fell, but I quickly wiped them away.
Seraphina POV When I got home at night, I felt a chill seep into my bones, and my stomach churned with spasmodic pain. Perhaps the anger from the bridal shop, combined with not eating all day, had triggered my chronic gastritis. I forced myself into the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. I didn’t want to stay in this house for another minute. I began to shove my clothes into the bag. The cramping in my stomach continued, and I just wanted to finish packing quickly. Just then, I heard the sound of the key turning in the front door. Blake was home. He was carrying a few takeout containers. Seeing me pack, Blake paused, then a flicker of impatience crossed his face. “What now? I bought the dress, I paid for it, and you’re still not over it? Are you running away from home now?” In his mind, I was merely throwing a childish tantrum. I barely had the strength to argue with him. Clutching my stomach, I slowly sank to the floor. “Blake, do we have any medicine? Can you get me some water?” Blake frowned, walking over. “Don’t act like this. You were fine at the store earlier. How are you suddenly sick now that you’re home?” “My stomach hurts.” “It really hurts.” Blake scoffed. “Save it, Seraphina. How many times have you played the sick card when we argue? Can’t you come up with something new?” Though he said this, he still placed the takeout on the table and turned to get some water. Just then, his phone rang. Blake’s expression changed instantly. He answered the call. “Hello, Willow?” Willow’s tearful voice came through the phone. “Blake, the power suddenly went out at my place, I’m so scared…” Blake’s voice instantly softened. He patiently cooed, “Don’t be scared, I’ll be right there!” Blake hung up, grabbed his car keys, and started to rush out. “Blake…” I lay sprawled by the bed, using the last of my strength to tug on his pant leg. “I really don’t feel well, take me to the hospital…” Blake stopped, looking down at me. He spoke with irritation. “Stop faking it!” He roughly shook off my hand. “The power’s out at Willow’s, and she has claustrophobia. What if something happens to her? You just have a stomach ache. There’s stomach medicine in the cabinet; you can take a couple of pills yourself. Are you really going to die?” “You just had to put on a show right now. There’s a time and place for drama!” With that, he didn’t spare me another glance, striding out of the bedroom. BANG! The front door slammed shut. The pain in my stomach felt like it was tearing me apart, but the coldness in my heart was far worse than the physical agony. I curled into a ball on the floor, tears silently soaking into the carpet. It turned out that in Blake’s heart, half of my life was less important than a power outage at Willow’s place. This was the man I had loved for seven years. This was the man I wanted to spend my life with. After a long while, my hand trembling, I dialed 911. “Hello, emergency services, I’m having severe stomach cramps, my address is…” After hanging up, I struggled to my feet, rummaged through a drawer for painkillers, and dry-swallowed two pills. A bitter taste spread in my mouth. I looked at the empty room and suddenly laughed. Blake, since you love being with her so much, then stay with her forever. This home, this place, I don’t want it anymore. By the time the ambulance arrived, I had regained a sliver of strength. I refused the stretcher and walked into the ambulance myself. I was on an IV until midnight at the hospital before the stomach pain finally subsided. I pulled out the needle and went home alone.
Seraphina POV The next morning, Blake pushed the door open. I sat on the sofa, not even looking at him. Blake announced as he changed his shoes, “Willow was scared last night, so she’s staying in our guest room for a few days.” No sooner had he spoken than Willow poked her head out, wearing Blake’s oversized shirt and carrying the bag with the stained wedding dress. “Morning, Seraphina! Blake gave me this dress, I’m thinking of shortening it to wear as a party dress. You don’t mind, do you?” I glanced at the loose men’s shirt; it was Blake’s, now on someone else. I smiled. “Not at all. If you like picking up other people’s unwanted old clothes, keep it.” Willow’s face stiffened. She hadn’t expected me to hit back. Blake frowned, rebuking me with displeasure. “Seraphina, don’t be so nasty. It’s just a dress.” I scoffed, too tired for further argument, and turned to go back to my room. That evening, a pungent, spicy aroma filled the living room. Blake emerged carrying two bowls of noodles. Willow, already seated at the table, eagerly took one. “It smells amazing! Blake, you’re the best, you knew I was craving this.” Blake placed the other bowl in front of me. “There’s plain porridge in the pot, help yourself. Your stomach isn’t well, so no spicy food for you.” Willow ate, sighing dramatically. “Poor Seraphina, can’t even eat this delicious ramen, stuck with tasteless porridge.” I stood at the bedroom door, looking at the starkly divided dinner, and suddenly burst out laughing. I walked to the dining table and looked at Blake. My laughter clearly unnerved him. He impatiently looked up. “What are you laughing at?” “I’m laughing at your bad memory,” I said. “Blake, who told you I naturally love bland porridge?” Blake froze, then slammed his cutlery onto the table. “What new tantrum is this? You’ve been eating like this for three years! I’m doing this for your health, don’t be ungrateful.” “For my health?” I said. “I spent three years eating nothing but bland food with you. Did you seriously think I enjoyed it?” I leaned down, staring into Blake’s eyes, enunciating each word. “Blake, in these three years, did you ever once ask me if I wanted spicy food?” Blake was speechless, his mouth opening and closing. Then, he flushed with anger. “If you don’t want to eat it, then don’t! Eat it or don’t, I don’t care!” I straightened up. “Indeed. Things I don’t like, I won’t touch again.” With that, I turned to leave. “Wait.” Blake stopped me, his tone shifting to a calmer one. “Liam and the others are having dinner tomorrow night, at the usual spot. You should come too.” I paused, my back to him, saying nothing. Blake, assuming I was being stubborn, grew impatient again. “Don’t be difficult. This whole wedding dress thing has upset everyone. If you come tomorrow, it’s the perfect chance to make up with Willow, and then we can just move past all this.” He expected me to quietly show up tomorrow, bow my head, and then he’d forgive my “unreasonable behavior” of the past few days. Willow’s saccharine voice chimed in from behind him. “Exactly, Seraphina. Everyone’s waiting. Don’t be rude.” I turned to face them, this sudden united front. “Alright.” I looked at Blake and smiled. He frowned, but at my agreement, some of the tension left his shoulders. “Good. You’re finally being reasonable.” I didn’t answer and turned back to my room. Go? Of course I’m going. I had seven years of messy history to settle. Why would I leave out the supporting cast? I was going to let everyone know what kind of jerk Blake really was!
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