Bridesmaid?
The word hammered my eardrums, silencing the world. Be her bridesmaid? Inviting me? Mark’s fiancée asking me, the bride-to-be’s bridesmaid? Marrying the man who knelt before me, sliding a ring on my finger—my fiancé. Absurd. Utterly absurd. A wave of surrealism crashed over me, an uncontrollable tsunami threatening to shatter my skull. My lip twitched toward a laugh—one I knew would sound ghastlier than a sob.
Yet a coppery tang choked my throat, smothering any sound into suffocating silence. Her pure, hopeful smile cut like a razor, grating my heart. She didn’t know. Truly, wholly unaware of my existence.
Stomach Churning
My gut spasmed—an unseen fist twisting violently. Sudden nausea surged; I clamped a hand over my mouth, bolting toward the restroom. Slammed the lock shut, braced over the toilet, retching violently. Nothing but acidic bile seared my throat and nose. I splashed icy water on my face, fighting dizziness. In the mirror, a stranger stared back—ghostly pale, lips trembling. That seemingly innocent message, with its guileless warmth, detonated my world. That name, that profile, unlocked every vile memory I'd fought to seal away.
Mark's Call
My phone vibrated—Lia's name flashed with another unread voice note. I ignored it. Then the screen changed: "Mark" appeared, ringing sharply. He was calling. My heart clenched; palms slicked with cold sweat, making the phone slippery. I gripped my wrist to steady myself. A deep breath, then I answered. "Hello?" My voice sounded alien—artificially calm, unnervingly detached.
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