I was still a little pissed when the annual party ended.
Without waiting for Andrea, I drove alone to the bridal shop in the city center. The custom wedding dress I had ordered for next week was there. It had cost six figures, but I felt no hesitation paying for it. I wanted to give her the best.
When the shop assistant saw me, her expression turned awkward. "Mr. Reed… Miss Smith came by this afternoon. She already took the dress."
I frowned, puzzled. Was she trying to surprise me?
I was ready to forgive her. I even took out my phone to ask what she wanted for dinner.
Then I saw her new post. No caption, just a photo. She was wearing the wedding dress. Ethan stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist.
He had left a comment beneath it: [My girl is the most beautiful bride in the world today.]
My hand began to shake around the phone.
…
When I got home and pushed the door open, the living room was a disaster. Takeout boxes, bottles, and scraps of white fabric covered the coffee table.
The wedding dress I had custom made lay among them, cut into pieces. One piece sat under a pizza box, soaked with grease.
Andrea and Ethan were playing video games. They were squeezed into a single seat, their bodies pressed together.
When she saw me, she did not even look up.
"You're back? Pour me a glass of water." Her tone was flat.
I walked to the coffee table and picked up a grease-stained piece of the dress. "What is this?"
Only then did she glance at me, her expression indifferent.
"Oh, Ethan said he wanted to see me in the wedding dress, so I wore it for him. He accidentally damaged it, so I cut it into a short dress. Then I messed it up." She shrugged and kept playing. "You're rich anyway. Just buy another one. What's the big deal?"
Ethan leaned out from her arms. In a soft, calculated voice, he said, "Sorry, Mr. Reed. I didn't know the dress was so expensive. I thought it was just some cheap prop you got online. I'll pay you back… Even though I only make a few hundred a month, I can pay in installments…"
At once, Andrea exploded. She threw the controller aside and stood, shielding him. "Pay for what? He's just a kid. What does he know? Is one stupid dress more important than him being happy? Daniel, stop coming home with that sour face. You act like someone owes you millions."
I looked at her. This was the face I had loved for seven years. For her, I gave up a high-paying job on Crownmarket Square and came back to work myself to exhaustion for her family's failing business. I drank for her, stayed up nights for her, and handled every dirty and exhausting task for her. I turned her into the admired, beautiful CEO everyone envied.
In the end, I was not even as important as making that manipulative coward happy.
I said nothing. I turned and walked into the kitchen. I needed a glass of cold water to put out the fire in my chest.
I picked up my cup, the one from our matching set.
Something yellow, sticky, mixed with saliva was soaking inside it—Ethan's clear aligner.
My stomach churned.
"Who did this?" I walked out, holding the cup.
Andrea glanced at it and frowned in disgust. "Oh please. Ethan didn't have anywhere to put it, so he used your cup for a bit. Just wash it. Why are you being so dramatic?"
"That's my cup."
"I know it's your cup. So what if we used it? Are you going to die?" she snapped.
I forced down the urge to kill. As I looked at her completely justified expression, something inside me stretched to its limit.
I glanced at the ruined wedding dress on the floor, then at the aligner in the cup.
Suddenly, I felt relieved.
