Dear Ex, You’re Not Invited To My Happily Ever After

“Now that your health is stable, will you go through with the marriage that your father arranged for you all those years ago?”

“Yes,” I answered calmly and without hesitation. ““Tell him to draw up the paperwork. And make sure it’s tasteful. I don’t want elaborate fairy lights or red roses. I’m not here for petty romance. I’m here to win.”

My mother didn’t act surprised at my tone. She agreed and made some suggestions. At the end, I gave her a rundown of exactly what I wanted, and we hung up.

Upstairs, the celebration pulsed on. The laughter was as loud as the music, and there was continuous popping of champagne. It was Sophia’s birthday. We were supposed to be celebrating the entire weekend on my boyfriend, Ethan’s yacht. It was a truly glamorous event filled with glitter, plastic smiles and perfectly curated Instagram posts.

Instead, I watched as she kissed him on the upper deck like it was the most natural thing in the world. She had cake frosting and rainbow sprinkles on her cheek, and he had both hands placed firmly on her butt. His brother, Jonathan, who used to call me his little princess Evanny, tossed her a towel with a smirk like he didn’t just watch my whole world implode.

Sophia. My best friend since childhood. My shadow. My sister in everything but blood. She used to swear she’d never cross certain lines. That she would touch what was mine. But now, she was licking cake frosting off Ethan’s abs like it was foreplay.

And Ethan? The man who swore I was his future. His reason to live. He didn’t flinch when I walked by. He didn’t even look at me.

I suddenly felt sea sick. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry or cause a scene. I went below deck, sat on the velvet lounge in the suite, and called my mother for the second time that day.

Because if I was going to burn it all down, I’d need fire. The type that came from influence and power. And power didn’t come from being the girl crying in a white bikini.

Minutes later, I heard the click of heels descending the staircase. Then a soft knock on the door.

“Evanny?” That voice… it sounded like sugared silk.

I said nothing. But in true Sophia fashion, she came in anyway.

Sophia carried a small deep red cake, a single candle glowing on top of it. Her makeup was perfect. Her smile was sweeter than sin. She had whipped cream on her cheeks, but I knew it was deliberate. Everything about Sophia was deliberate.

“Come back up,” she cooed. “Everyone’s asking about you.”

I stayed seated, not bothering to stand up for her.

“I’m busy. Go back to your party.”

A calculated look flashed across her face. She tilted her head, voice dipping. “You’ve been avoiding me. Is it because… you don’t like me anymore?”

I turned slightly. “You really want to play this game again?”

Her lower lip trembled— calculated as always. She looked like she was about to cry on command, like she always did to get Ethan to do whatever she wanted.

“You think I’m trying to hurt you.”

I finally stood. “I don’t think, Sophia. I know. Why don’t you save the theatrics for your little fan club out there.”

She stepped back. Just barely. And then as I got to the door, she staggered— too perfect, too practiced— and the cake slipped.

It hit her like a weapon, deep red velvet and cream smearing across her white dress.

She let out a gasp. And then a choked sob.

Footsteps thundered on the stairs immediately. Ethan and Jonathan appeared— like clockwork.

“Sophia?!”

“Are you okay?!”

They ran to her, shoving past me like I was the air between ghosts.

“She— she shoved me,” Sophia whispered with wide eyes, clutching the ruined cake like a stab wound. “I just wanted to bring her something sweet. And she pushed me.”

I stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“You did what?” Jonathan’s voice sharpened, accusing me. “Evanny, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t touch her,” I said sharply. “She dropped it herself. Check your cameras. Or don’t— you’ll believe whatever makes her the victim anyways.”

Ethan didn’t look at me. He wiped frosting from Sophia’s shoulder like it was blood.

“Does it hurt?” he asked gently.

She nodded, milking it. “A little. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have come down. She hates me now.”

“You were her best friend,” Jonathan snapped at me. “And you’re treating her like garbage because you’re jealous?”

Jealous.

I almost laughed. “You two should be in a soap opera,” I said. “All this drama and zero plot.”

Ethan turned at that, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Apologize to Sophia. Now.”

“No. I will do no such thing.”

He stepped closer. “Then you can forget the engagement, Evanny. I’m not proposing to you if this is who you really are.”

Silence settled all over us.

Jonathan muttered behind him, “Why would you even marry someone like her? She’s a snake.”

I didn’t even blink. I just met his eyes and said, “And you’re still single at thirty-four. Funny how that works.”

His cheeks reddened in embarrassment. Ethan looked furious. Sophia was glowing in satisfaction.

I turned to walk away. Toward the railing. Toward anywhere but here. That’s when Ethan’s hand clamped around my waist.

Before I knew what was happening, he shoved me. Over the edge.

The freezing water swallowed me before I could even blink. It dragged at my limbs, filled my lungs, and froze my scream.

I couldn’t swim. They knew that.

“Evanny?!” Sophia’s voice rang out behind me, high and panicked. But it wasn’t real. None of it ever was.

“Let her be,” Ethan said. Like I was nothing. “Maybe she’ll cool off and finally learn some respect.”

I sank. The darkness was absolute.

Then… I felt strong arms around me, pulling me up.

I heard a stranger’s voice in my ear. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

I gasped and coughed, gagging on salt and air.

But I was alive. Someone had just pulled me from the edge.