The day before the wedding, I uncovered my girlfriend, Eleanor Sutton’s long-buried secret. She was the internet’s most famous author of heart-wrenching stories, having published a book about her tragic first love that moved countless readers to tears. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t the one she truly loved. The man who held her heart was my late best friend, Charles Kingsley. On our wedding day, I skipped town, done being her lapdog. But Eleanor chased me down, begging through tears for another chance. … Tomorrow was my wedding day with Eleanor. She was my childhood sweetheart, the girl I had loved for over a decade, and my first love. Back in high school, Eleanor saved my life during a fire that broke out at our school. At that moment, I vowed never to marry anyone but her, and she confessed she liked me too. My friends threw a party, getting me nearly three sheets to the wind, all while constantly offering their congratulations. “You’re the one tying the knot so soon, huh?” “Yeah, we’re still single, but you and Eleanor have been together for a decade. Marriage was just a matter of time…” “If only Charles were still around, he’d be thrilled… Let’s not bring up sad stuff on your big day.” Hearing their heartfelt wishes, I forced a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. To the outside world, Eleanor and I seemed like the perfect match. But love was a funny thing. Only the person wearing the shoe knew where it pinched. In all our years together, Eleanor and I never got more physical than hugging. She always said she wasn’t ready to take things further. I gave her all the time in the world, but Eleanor never let her guard down with me. Even last night, in the depths of silence, I heard Eleanor’s sobs. She was crying quietly next to me. Eleanor was actually such an optimistic person. I couldn’t imagine what could make her cry right before our wedding. I wanted to comfort her, but then I heard her whisper a name we never speak. My back stiffened. I must have heard wrong. Neither of us slept for the rest of the night. She went to cry on the balcony while I tossed and turned in bed. We were together but worlds apart. Eleanor left the house early today, simply saying she had something to take care of. I called her this evening, but she didn’t pick up. The ringing on the other end was deafening. For a brief moment, I felt like I didn’t understand our relationship anymore. But I didn’t let my friends see how upset I was. At some point, I had grown from a bright, hopeful kid into a scarred and weary adult. There were some things I would never talk about again. As my buddies dropped me off, I rolled down the window, letting the night breeze clear my head. The city felt vast and empty as if I had lost my place in the world while wandering in a daze. My friends were about to call Eleanor to pick me up, but I knew she wouldn’t come. After all these years, Eleanor still refused to meet my friends. Sure enough, when I got home, the place was cold and lifeless, not a trace of warmth. Her shoes weren’t at the door either. It looked like she hadn’t been back all day. I let out a heavy sigh, thinking I’d whip up some hangover soup in the kitchen. That’s when I heard a commotion at the front door. I’d barely made it there when the stench of booze hit me like a truck. Eleanor was plastered. Forcing a smile, I took her from her friends, who were practically holding her up. The moment the door clicked shut, Eleanor yanked her arm away from me. She stumbled off to the bathroom alone. Before long, muffled sobs echoed from behind the door. I pressed my lips together, about to knock on the bathroom door, when I noticed Eleanor’s phone light up. A message? I had barely picked up Eleanor’s phone when my eyes were drawn to the flood of notifications on her Twitter. It had more than a hundred notifications. What was going on? With trembling hands, I opened Twitter. I didn’t think deeply about it at the time. But I knew that the moment I unlocked her phone, my relationship with Eleanor was irreparably shattered. There was no going back. Eleanor had never told me she was Charnor, a famous angst writer on Twitter. For ten years, she’d been constantly memorializing her deceased first love, Charles, through her words. That name was taboo between Eleanor and me. Yet in corners I couldn’t see, Eleanor had never let him go. The day we started dating, she wrote on Twitter that no one could replace Charles, and even if she were trying to move forward, she’d never forget him. On our fifth anniversary, Eleanor posted that she still couldn’t move on. … I slowly scrolled through Eleanor’s Twitter, uncovering hints that she didn’t love me. On our eighth anniversary, Eleanor came to meet my parents at my house. That day was probably the happiest of my life. Bringing the girl you love most to meet your parents was a joyous moment for anyone. But during dinner, Eleanor didn’t even take a bite. She left abruptly, leaving me to finish the meal with my parents alone. Eleanor told me there was an emergency at work. Her Twitter, however, told a different story. She’d gone to Charles’ grave and broken down in tears. [Charles, I know there’s no going back. I have to move forward. I’ve met his parents. But I can’t forget you. Please, take me with you. My depression is getting worse again.]
Each word was like a drop of blood from her heart. If I were an outsider, I would probably be moved to tears by their love story. But I happen to be the protagonist of this story. Just today, Eleanor posted another tweet showing off her engagement ring. She said she planned to live a good life. She also said that although her life had no meaning without marrying Charles, she would keep looking forward as he had told her to. The comments below were all lamenting her lost love. I silently watched Twitter, my emotions growing more and more complicated. Soft crying still came from the bathroom. I thought Eleanor must be deeply in love with Charles. Then… what about me? What about me, the one who was about to marry her? I wanted to rush into the bathroom and ask Eleanor what she thought of our relationship, but I didn’t have the strength. Ten years with Eleanor… it was not a short time, but it was not particularly long either. I always thought I knew her. But now, it seems I never truly understood her. I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion as I delved into my memories. Actually, Eleanor and I did share some warm memories. We grew up as childhood friends, always side by side, and she would proudly tell others that I was her big brother from next door. Every time she said that her eyes would open wide in excitement. She was genuinely happy to have me as her neighbor and friend. When we first started dating, my buddies called Eleanor the perfect girlfriend. That winter was brutal, and Eleanor, who’d never been good with needlework, knitted me a scarf herself. She caught the crack-of-dawn train to my city just to wrap that scarf around my neck on New Year’s Day. I tapped her nose, teasing her for being silly. “It’s not silly,” she mumbled, her eyes crinkling with laughter. My fingertips were red from the cold, but that winter felt like the warmest I’d ever known. Looking back, I was so naive then. Even after college, I still clung to that old-fashioned fairytale about childhood sweethearts destined for love, deliberately ignoring the little warning signs. Over the years, had Eleanor ever loved me, even for a second? Was I always just a stand-in for someone else in her eyes? I was best friends with Charles in her story. But he died in a fire. I had no idea Eleanor and Charles were first loves. I thought they barely knew each other, never imagining I was just a background character in their unforgettable story. I opened my eyes, recalling the flood of comments from her Twitter followers. Everyone was cursing me out. They called me the most vicious man, stealing my best friend’s girl. Eleanor never once defended me, the innocent party, in all this. She just kept memorializing Charles in her way long after he was gone. My eyes suddenly felt hot. At that moment, I envied Charles more than ever. Even though he was long gone, someone still held his name dear in their heart. But what about me? My mental health issues had only multiplied over the years, clinging to life with the help of antidepressants. Only two reasons stop me from ending it all… My parents and Eleanor. I had daydreamed countless times about married life with Eleanor. Her Twitter post was the knife that shattered those dreams. At that moment, I suddenly didn’t want to get married anymore. I refused to be someone’s replacement. Just like that, I sat there wide awake until dawn, unable to figure out what the ten years with Eleanor meant. Was it just me, hopelessly romantic and living out a one-sided fantasy? After her tears, Eleanor had already gone to the bedroom to rest. I sat by the bedroom door, able to hear Eleanor’s faint breathing. She wasn’t sleeping well. At times, I could even catch bits of her sleep-talking. She was calling for Charles as if she was about to marry her first love the next day. Silently, I shifted my legs and changed my position. As the first rays of morning light crept in, Eleanor’s alarm went off. She still remembered it was our wedding day, and she even set an alarm for it. So, she did know we were getting married. But suddenly, I didn’t want to go through with it. I didn’t want to keep being the replacement. Eleanor had just gotten out of bed when she noticed me sitting by the door. She rubbed her eyes, completely unaware of how drunk she was last night. “Ryan? Why are you sitting at the door?” I looked at the confused Eleanor, and a sharp pain stabbed at my chest. I realized she was actually quite cold-hearted, even if she didn’t see it herself. She could marry me without a second thought while mourning someone else, walking down the aisle with me. It wasn’t fair. Not to me, and not to Charles either. I took a deep breath and spoke softly. “Eleanor, I saw your Twitter.” With just one sentence, Eleanor’s expression changed completely. The facade of calm she’d been maintaining seemed to crumble in an instant.
After a long pause, Eleanor spoke softly. “You… you know everything?” At this point, I had nothing left to say. I did know everything. I knew how deeply she loved Charles, and I knew she’d even published their story as a novel, making countless readers weep. And I, her fiance, was just a plain, unremarkable backdrop, serving no purpose in their story. If I served any purpose at all, it was probably as a cautionary tale. Eleanor’s face went pale. Her lips trembled, but in the end, she said nothing, only asking, “So… what now? What do you want to do?” Even Eleanor didn’t realize how cold her tone was at that moment. It was as if she’d drained every ounce of emotion from her voice. I wanted to ask Eleanor what she really thought of me or if she’d ever loved me at all. But those questions seemed meaningless now. In the end, I just sighed, “Eleanor… was Charles your first love?” I had never heard about this before. At the mention of Charles’ name, a flicker of visible pain crossed Eleanor’s eyes. We never spoke of Charles, acting as if he didn’t exist. But some things didn’t cease to exist just because we didn’t talk about them. We just hadn’t faced them before. Eleanor clearly had no desire to answer the question, merely glancing at the time on her phone and urging me to hurry and get dressed, as the makeup team would be here soon. Soon, our friends and family would arrive to offer their heartfelt congratulations, wishing us a long and happy marriage. But now, those well-wishes only felt like nails on a chalkboard to me. The Eleanor I loved deeply didn’t love me back. Countless nights, she had cried over another man. The thought of it made my heart sink. Looking at Eleanor, I felt all the energy drain from my body. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed answers now. As I was about to let Eleanor leave for the bathroom, I stopped her and asked, carefully enunciating each word, “I need to hear it from you. Did you ever love me? Or… how do you really feel about me now?” A heavy silence fell over the room. It shouldn’t have been a difficult question to answer. But Eleanor didn’t say a word. The look in her eyes as she gazed at me was tinged with weariness as if she were watching a fool. A fool, huh? I guessed I had played that role pretty well over the years. All this time, I’d foolishly believed Eleanor and I were soulmates. One night, when she was drunk, she did tell her friends that she’d definitely get married when the time was right. I hadn’t thought much of it then, but now I see the truth. Eleanor’s willingness to marry me was nothing more than appeasing her parents. I was the only one who stubbornly believed we were deeply in love. Maybe it was fate playing tricks, but I discovered her long-buried secret the night before our wedding. She’d never told anyone she was Charnor. It was because I loved her that learning the truth felt like a punch to the gut. “Stop making a scene. We won’t be able to face our parents if you keep this up. Ryan Hawkins, we’re not kids anymore. How I feel about you doesn’t matter now. Just go through with the wedding and give everyone closure. Aren’t you embarrassed, throwing a fit like this?” Eleanor’s voice was ice-cold, seemingly unaffected by my breakdown. It took me just a second to figure it all out. I couldn’t marry Eleanor. Even though I’ve loved her for ten years, even though I genuinely care for her, even though… No matter what, I wouldn’t accept misplaced affection. Eleanor’s heart belonged to someone else. After scrolling through her Twitter posts from the past decade, I couldn’t bring myself to love her anymore. Even if I was not quite ready to let go of these feelings, I needed to walk away. I couldn’t keep playing the fool. I grabbed Eleanor’s wrist. “Eleanor. We haven’t get the marriage license yet. Let’s call off today’s wedding.” Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock. She probably never thought I’d be able to leave so decisively. Eleanor, usually so even-tempered, actually got angry. She loudly demanded if I was done with my little game. But my mind was a jumbled mess. I needed to reconsider my relationship with Eleanor seriously. After all these years together, I felt like Eleanor had changed. To be precise, she’d changed long ago. The tides of life had swept us forward. She already changed, but I was the one standing still, still believing in true love, still thinking we could have a great future together. Before the makeup team arrived, a wild idea took root in my mind. I knew it was terribly ill-timed. But the truth was, I no longer wanted to marry Eleanor. Staying together in this muddy, undefined state held no meaning anymore. So, despite being a full-grown adult, I did something utterly childish. I became a runaway groom. I booked a flight out of town, rushing to the airport before any guests arrived. I was done being a doormat. Before boarding, the hospital also sent over my psychological report. Severe depression… See, Eleanor? You were not the only one who had a hard time all these years After Charles passed away, I completely bombed my SATs. I couldn’t wrap my head around why, right before the test, my best friend had to die in a fire. The school was grateful that only one person died in the fire, and Charles became the cold “death toll of 1” in the news. But only when I was there did I truly understand what it felt like. As the plane took off, I gazed out at the blazing sun, and tears began to fall. But after a moment, I chuckled and wiped them away. They said real men didn’t cry easily, so I couldn’t keep tearing up, right? Maybe it was just the sun shining too bright. I leaned back in my seat, exhausted, and thought, I won’t cry anymore.
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