It's my and my boyfriend's anniversary. I open the glovebox to hide a gift inside as a surprise, but a piece of familiar-looking lingerie falls out.

It's torn in a spot; it looks like it went through a rough battle.

Before I can process the situation, I crash into a car that suddenly switches lanes in front of me.

Right before I black out, I remember where I saw the lingerie. It was a gift from me to my best friend.

I opened my eyes to the hospital's stark white walls. My boyfriend and best friend stood on opposite sides of the bed, their expressions filled with concern.

Anne Arterburn held my hand tightly, her voice breaking with emotion. "Hannah, you terrified me. I nearly fainted when I heard about the accident. I'm so relieved you're alright."

She nudged Bernard Drayton, her tone nasal and insistent. "Hannah just woke up. She must be hungry, so go downstairs and get her some soup."

There was something oddly familiar about the way she directed him, a comfort that suggested habit.

Bernard had seemed somewhat dazed ever since I regained consciousness. When Anne pushed him, he frowned but didn't argue, quietly stepping out of the hospital room.

Anne called after him, "Get me something, too—"

Bernard interrupted sharply, "I know. Broccoli cheddar soup."

"You're the best!"

Only after he left did Anne turn back to me. "What happened, Hannah? How did you end up in the crash? The police said you were driving when—"

I forced a smile and cut her off. "It's nothing serious. I was just tired from work and lost concentration."

Bernard and I were each other's first love. He was my senior in college.

During my second year, he fell for me the moment we met. After patiently waiting by my side for a year, I finally gave in, and we became a couple that everyone admired.

For four beautiful years, we shared a life full of love. We met each other's families, and marriage seemed like the natural next step. His eyes never wandered, always fixed on me.

I remembered when Anne first came back to town. Bernard and I went to pick her up.

When she learned I was his first girlfriend, she grinned and teased, "Seriously? A guy like you, and yet you've only been in one relationship? That's almost a loss."

I didn't know how to respond, but Bernard just drew me close, his expression warm. "Not at all. Meeting Hannah right away and getting to keep her? That's luck, not a loss."

Anne paused, then finally muttered with a pout, "Relax. It was a joke. You two are so serious."

Anne came to live with me two months ago. After high school, we'd grown apart. I only knew she'd gone to college in the north and, near graduation, started dating someone and chose to stay there with him.

Then, two months ago, she called me crying, saying she'd broken up and needed to come home to recover. With her parents divorced and no other family here, I happily offered her a place to stay.

Anne moved into our new home as Bernard and I were deep in wedding preparations. Despite the years we'd spent apart, she still had a way of clinging to me.

Whenever Bernard tried to steal a moment of closeness, she'd playfully scowl, push him away, and hug me tightly, complaining, "Hannah, look at him! He's had you all to himself for years. Can't he spare you for a little while?"

Seeing Bernard's resigned expression, I could only pat his hand reassuringly.

Anne had been taking up most of my time recently, and Bernard's patience with her had worn thin. He could only hold me when she wasn't around.

One day, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his breath warm against my neck as he murmured, almost pleading, "Babe, your friend just doesn't know when to give us space.

"We're getting married soon, and after that, it's our honeymoon. You're not really going to let her cling to you like this forever, are you?"

I tilted my head back and kissed the corner of his lips. "Come on. Like you said, we're about to be married—that means we have our whole lives together, right? She just went through a breakup, so let's give her a little time. I'll make it up to you, okay?"

Before I could say more, he kissed me hard. When he finally pulled away, his breathing was uneven, his eyes burning with unspoken want.

As my wedding leave approached, I had several projects to complete. My manager arranged a month-long business trip for me to ensure everything was finalized.

Before leaving, I grew concerned about Bernard and Anne's strained relationship. Worried they might clash in my absence, I tried helping Anne find a short-term rental. We toured several perfectly adequate places, yet she rejected every one.

Hesitant, I said, "Anne, these are all well-located and reasonably priced. Can't you at least pick one?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Hannah, do you want me gone, too? My parents abandoned me, and my ex left me. Are you now forcing me out as well?"

Her vulnerability reminded me of the bright friend she'd once been—the one who stood by me in high school. My heart wavered. In the end, I couldn't force her to go and allowed her to stay.

Anne smiled through her tears and kissed my cheek. "I knew you'd never abandon me! Don't worry. I'll avoid Bernard so you don't have to deal with any drama."

During the first few days of my business trip, Bernard video-called me every night. Aside from saying he missed me and asking when I would return, most of our conversations were about how Anne frustrated him.

He told me she stayed up late, cooking a midnight snack, and nearly set the kitchen on fire, forcing him to clean up and cook for her instead.

He said Anne was careless with her things, leaving her face wash and lotion scattered on the bathroom counter, so he always had to put them away.

Apparently, Anne had also come down with a fever and ordered him around like a maid, demanding water and medicine. Because of her, he missed an important work meeting.

He mentioned that Anne, trying to thank him for buying her medicine, made him breakfast but accidentally used the wrong seasoning, resulting in oddly sweet scrambled eggs.

Bernard had let her take over most of our talks without realizing it. He hadn't complained about her lack of boundaries in a long time. And though his words sounded irritated, there was an unspoken closeness in how he spoke about her.

It unsettled me. So, I hurried through my work, eager to return as soon as possible. But everything changed before I could return.

One night, while working at my computer, Bernard called me out of the blue on video.

In the dim light, his face looked tense as he told me Anne had lost the diamond ring he'd bought for me. She'd asked to see it, and somehow, it had gone missing.

He'd had it custom-designed, waiting six months for its completion—2.5 carats, perfectly cut, and breathtakingly brilliant. It had cost him a lot.

"Hannah, I'm so furious I could lose my mind. She lost the ring, and when I confronted her, she got upset. She's a grown woman, yet she ran off in the middle of the night. Is she out of her mind?"

The video was too blurry to tell whether anger or worry dominated his expression. After his outburst, he frowned, restless and irritated.

I was about to speak, but he cut me off. "Forget it. I need to go find her."

The video call ended, and the screen faded to black. In its reflection, I saw my own face, pale and drawn from too many sleepless nights of work. But Bernard never asked how I was.

I held my phone tightly, fighting back the ache in my chest as I called him and Anne repeatedly, but neither answered that night.

The endless busy signal mingled with the wind and rain outside, each unanswered moment piercing my heart. An inexplicable, creeping fear took hold of me.

One was my dearest friend since high school, and the other was the man I'd loved for four years and was about to marry. Together, they vanished into the rain that night.

I fell asleep at the desk. When I awoke, the storm had cleared. Bernard's call came through at that very moment.

His voice was raspy and weary. "Sorry, Hannah. Anne got drunk at a bar alone last night. I took her to a hotel and tried to contact you, but she broke my phone in her drunken state. Her phone died, too, so I couldn't reach you until now."

"So, are you saying neither of you could call me, and you both vanished the whole night? Fine, Bernard. Let's say it's true that you couldn't reach me right away. But where did you stay? You and Anne—"

He interrupted sharply, "What are you trying to say? Anne is your friend. I was only taking care of her because of you. Dealing with her all night was draining enough—I don't have the patience for this."

Bernard had never spoken to me so coldly in all our years together. A sob caught in my throat, and I couldn't stop the tears.

Through the phone, I could almost hear those words he'd promised me back in college—earnest and certain. "Silly you. You're my favorite person in the world. Of course, I'll always indulge you."

I had known him when his love was patient, so I could tell the difference now. The other end of the line stayed silent.

As if he'd heard me crying, Bernard's voice softened. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm just tired. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Please don't cry, okay?"

Then, as if realizing what would reassure me, he gently added, "I'll have the designer recreate the ring as quickly as possible."

I thought if I could just get back soon enough, maybe things would return to how they were. So, I pushed myself harder, scrambling until I finally managed to move my flight to our anniversary.

But while driving to Bernard's office, I discovered a sheer piece of fabric in the glove compartment. I recognized it.

Anne had once held it up in the store, smiling at her reflection. "Hannah, look—so innocent yet alluring. It's perfect for me, isn't it?"

I had gifted it to her because she loved it. My hands shook as I picked up the delicate, nearly transparent cloth. My throat closed up, and my head spun. The doubt I'd buried deep inside finally broke free.

Confusion and pain crashed over me. Before I could even think, the violent sound of colliding cars split the air. Then, blackness swallowed me whole.