"Bianca," Viviana said with a smile. "What a coincidence. I didn't expect to see you here."
The way she spoke made it sound as if she were already part of the DeLuca household, while I was the outsider who had appeared uninvited.
I looked at her steadily, my voice cold and even.
"I don't need to explain to you why I'm here."
After saying that, I brushed past Adrian and headed toward the door.
The moment Adrian realized I was leaving, he quickly followed me.
"Bianca," he said urgently, "you've misunderstood. I only brought Viviana here because I wanted my parents to help her find a better doctor. Someone with the right connections."
He paused, then added in a tone that sounded almost reasonable, "Besides, she's your best friend too. You're not upset, are you?"
I stopped for a brief moment.
His words drifted past my ears, but what rose in my mind was another scene entirely.
Years ago, when Adrian was eighteen, he had stood beneath the cherry tree in the DeLuca estate garden and told me that marrying me was his lifelong dream.
He had said he would bring me home one day and introduce me to his parents as his future wife. That the families would bless it. That it was always meant to be us.
Back then, I had believed him so completely.
But now, he had brought another woman to meet the DeLuca family while lying to me that he was away on business.
How ridiculous.
How painfully ridiculous.
Adrian looked at me, waiting for my answer.
I met his gaze and said calmly, "Why would I care? I've never been the type to hold grudges."
People who no longer mattered were not worth my anger.
Adrian froze for a second.
"Bianca," he asked slowly, "do you really not care at all?"
I almost laughed.
He truly was impossible to satisfy.
When he and Viviana acted intimate in front of me, he accused me of being petty and narrow-minded.
Now that I no longer cared, he still seemed displeased.
I had no desire to explain myself.
Without warning, Adrian leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly.
"Be good," he said softly. "Wait for me at home."
The elevator doors closed between us.
The moment he disappeared from sight, I raised my hand and wiped my forehead hard.
That gentle gesture, which once might have made my heart flutter, now only made me feel sick.
On our tenth anniversary, Adrian had also used a so-called business trip as an excuse to avoid me.
That night, Viviana sent me a video call request.
When I answered, the first thing I heard was music, laughter, and the lively noise of a wedding celebration.
At first, I did not understand.
Then the camera shifted.
I saw the flowers. The guests. The altar with its crucifix and white candles.
And finally, I saw Adrian standing beside Viviana.
Only then did the truth crash down on me.
It was their wedding. A church-sanctioned union, with Family witnesses, with vows spoken before God and the old men of the neighborhood. Not a civil formality. A real marriage.
Three months earlier, Viviana had posted about her terminal diagnosis on social media. Her caption had read, "Before I die, I want a wedding with the person I love most."
At the time, I had not noticed anything strange between her and Adrian. I had even left a comment asking who that person was.
She had replied, "You'll know when the time comes."
So that was what she meant.
The realization was like a blade twisting deep into my chest. The pain was so sharp that I could barely breathe.
I called Adrian again and again, desperate to ask him why.
Why did he agree?
Why did he hide it from me?
Why did he let me watch the man I loved marry my best friend through a screen?
But that night, he did not answer a single call.
Not one.
I cried until my vision blurred, until my chest ached, until my body finally gave out and I fainted.
And while I lay unconscious, Adrian was spending his wedding night with Viviana.
Thankfully, it would all be over soon.
After I returned home, Viviana called me again.
"Bianca," she said softly, "I'm really sorry. I honestly didn't expect to run into you today."
I let out a cold, bitter laugh.
I said nothing.
Viviana took a slow breath. When she spoke again, her voice was filled with envy, but also with a faint, unmistakable provocation.
"Sofia is such a wonderful person. She was so gentle and caring toward me," she said. "They even promised they would do everything they could to find the best doctor for me. Vincent said he'd make some calls personally."
She paused, then lowered her voice.
