Seven days before the wedding, a red decorative wedding motif appeared on the door of my new apartment.
I wasn't the one who put it there.
And I wasn't the one who locked the door.
I rang the doorbell. The woman who answered was wearing a silk pajama set.
She leaned against the doorframe, her gaze drifting from my face down to the keys in my hand.
“So you're Joy Fox?”
“Fabian Dickerson said you'd show up.”
“He told me you're the type who loves throwing the apartment in people's faces.”
She smiled.
“But sorry.”
“This door? I'm the one opening it now.”
I stood in the doorway, staring at the sofa and dining table my mother had picked out herself.
After a long moment, I dialed 911.
“Hello, someone has broken into my home.”
——
The smile on the woman's face froze.
“What did you just say?”
I ignored her.
Once the call connected, I gave the address.
“Riverview Towers, Building 12, Unit 2701.”
“I'm the property owner.”
“Someone has moved into my apartment without permission and changed the locks.”
The woman lunged for my phone.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Who broke in?”
“This is Fabian's apartment!”
I stepped back.
She missed. Her expression went cold.
“Joy Fox, right?”
“I know who you are.”
“Fabian told me you two broke up a long time ago.”
“You've been clinging to him, refusing to let go.”
I looked at her.
“That's what he said?”
She folded her arms and stood inside the doorway.
Like the lady of the house.
“He said your family has some money, that you've got a temper, and you have to control everything.”
“He's been sick of it for a long time.”
“He's just too soft-hearted to say it to your face.”
“But I'm not him.”
She tilted her chin up.
“I suggest you take the hint and stop making a scene outside my wedding apartment.”
My wedding apartment.
Those three words drove into my chest like a needle.
I looked past her into the apartment.
The doormat in the entryway. My mom bought that.
She said red was festive, that stepping on it on the wedding day would bring good luck.
The little ceramic bear on the shoe cabinet. My dad brought that back from a trip.
He said young people liked that kind of thing.
The sofa in the living room. My mom and I spent three days browsing furniture stores before we settled on it.
She said it was too expensive. She hesitated for a long time.
Then swiped her card anyway.
She said：
“After you're married, when you come home tired from work, you need a comfortable place to lie down.”
Now a stranger in a silk pajama set, wearing my slippers, stood in the home my parents had put together for me.
Asking me why I was here causing trouble.
I stared at her.
“What's your name?”
She smiled.
“Felicia Chavez.”
Of course.
Fabian's college first love. The one he never got over.
The girl who dumped him for being poor and married a rich guy instead. His untouchable dream.
I'd seen her photos.
I just never expected the first time I'd see her in person would be inside my own apartment.
Felicia watched me go silent and her smile widened.
“Heard of me?”
“Then you should know, the one Fabian has always loved is me.”
“You were just the placeholder he kept around when he was bored.”
I let out a short laugh.
“A placeholder?”
I opened my phone's photo album, pulled up a picture of the property deed, and held it in front of her face.
“Take a good look, Miss Chavez.”
“The placeholder's name is on the deed.”
“Your beloved Fabian didn't pay a single cent.”
Felicia's expression shifted.
She grabbed for my phone.
I sidestepped her.
The next second, the elevator doors opened.
Fabian came rushing out.
