Nydia's POV
I stayed silent as Blake spoke.
If this had happened before, I probably would’ve already apologized, maybe even begged him to forgive me.
But not anymore. I’d spent eight years playing the fool, so never again.
As the room fell quiet for a long time, Blake’s expression shifted from anger to confusion. He looked at me like he was trying to figure something out.
Maybe he was wondering why I wasn’t reacting, why I wasn’t rushing to make things right.
“I’m tired,” I said, turning back toward the bedroom. “I want to sleep.”
No excuses. No tears.
Now that I knew how things would end, I wasn’t scared of losing him anymore. Because the truth was, I never really had him in the first place.
That night, he climbed into bed beside me, quiet and careful. He slid his arm under my neck, resting it there like it meant something.
“Nydia,” he whispered, “just be understanding, okay? Stop making things hard for Polly. I’ve been exhausted lately. But don’t worry, I’ll give you the wedding I promised. On that day, you’ll be the most beautiful bride.”
The most beautiful bride?
Maybe I would’ve been once.
But not anymore.
Blake, I didn't want anything that had to do with you—not your wedding, not your love, not even your promises.
The next day, he drove both me and Polly to a friend’s gathering.
He made a show of being thoughtful, settling me in the backseat because it was “more comfortable.” Not minding it, I just stared out the window, trying to block out their flirty conversation in the front.
But every word felt like a blade.
When we arrived at the party, his friends were already whispering and smirking.
“Well, if it isn’t our dear brother Blake’s main wife and his side chick,” one of them joked, throwing a wink at Polly.
“Oh, don’t say that,” she replied, all bashful and sweet. “There’s nothing like that between me and Blake. Besides, Nydia’s already five months along. How could I even compare to her?”
She said it gently, like she was trying not to offend me. But every word was laced with smugness.
“Alright, knock it off,” Blake said casually, not because the joke bothered him, but probably because he was afraid I’d make a fuss again.
“Nydia, come sit here,” he said, pulling out a chair for me. Then, just as smoothly, he pulled out another for Polly.
When the server came by with wine, Blake stopped him before he could pour into her glass.
“She doesn’t need any,” he said. “She doesn’t handle alcohol well. Just a sip and she’ll feel sick.”
I looked at the full glass in front of me and couldn’t help the bitterness that settled in my chest.
Same table, same drink. But the love? Not even close.
After a few rounds of wine, someone suggested we play a party game.
The rules were simple: spin the wine glass and wherever it stops, that person has to do a dare.
The first spin landed on Polly.
The group shouted suggestions until they settled on one: she had to do a nose-to-nose dare with a guy of her choice.
Her cheeks flushed pink, but then she turned to Blake.
“Blake, is that okay?”
Blake glanced at me, and I didn’t say a word.
So he nodded.
Everyone cheered. But I only felt numb in my heart.
When they finished the dare, both of them were clearly flustered, acting like teenagers.
“You two should just get married already,” someone laughed. “I always said you were perfect for each other, and I wasn't wrong. I still remember all the crazy stuff Blake did for Polly back in the day.”
Blake cleared his throat, and the guy instantly shut up.
Then he reached over and patted my head.
“Don’t take it seriously, Nydia. Everyone’s just joking around.”
I squeezed out a big smile, shook my head, and played along like it didn’t hurt.
Successfully, Blake looked pleased, like I was being a good girl.
Then the bottle spun again and stopped in front of me.
“Hey, how about this?” one of his friends smirked. “Why don’t you act like a clown? Pretty fitting, don’t you think? You looked just like one after that allergic reaction. Ugly and ridiculous.”
The whole table burst into laughter.
I slowly turned to look at Blake, and he didn’t say a word.
Not even a hint of discomfort on his face.
To him, this was just normal.
Of course it was. This wasn’t the first time his friends had disrespected me. And it sure wouldn’t be the last.
