3: 3

When I got home, my phone pushed a "People you may know" suggestion.

My finger tapped the profile picture before I even thought about it.

It was Paulette Whitney.

I scrolled down, post after post,

and every one of them was about Asher.

I opened a text post. It read:

"Went hiking with my Ashy today. He saw a pretty girl and completely froze up, so I dared him to go talk to her. And this idiot actually did it!"

"So annoyed. Ashy told me he's into that girl, the one named Josie Locke! What's so great about her? One look and you can tell she's a total fake."

"At least Ashy listens to me on everything. I deliberately taught him how to chase her—had him show up at her place in the middle of the night with late-night food so he could get close to her, hehe~"

"I also found out this Josie girl is allergic to roses, so I told him to give her roses on purpose. Can you believe she actually took them? Shameless. She just wants my Ashy because he's good-looking, from a good family, young and already pulling in a few million a year. A man that impressive—how could some little blogger ever deserve him?"

"They want to move in together? No way. I made sure he moved into Josie's little apartment instead, because the only person who gets to sleep in the bed at Ashy's big place is me! Josie thinks she's moving in there? Not a chance."

...

I kept scrolling,

and there in the comments was a reply from Asher: "Naughty little troublemaker, you're too cute when you're bad!"

Paulette had replied: love-you.jpg

My hands shook as I read to the end,

every word making it harder to breathe.

Those roses I'd carried inside while breaking out in red welts

drove straight back into my chest in that moment.

Someone else in the comments had said: "This Josie girl seems kind of innocent, though."

Paulette had shot back: "Innocent my ass! Ashy and I have known each other for twenty-eight years. She's just some homewrecker who showed up out of nowhere!"

Before I got together with Asher, I made a point of asking about his relationship with Paulette.

He kept insisting, over and over, that she was just a neighbor he'd grown up with.

That if there'd been anything between them, he wouldn't have had Paulette helping him chase another girl.

I believed him.

But for the five years after that, Paulette was always there, right between us.

Everywhere.

I turned off my phone, packed up every last one of Asher's things in one go, and dumped them at the entryway.

I'd just finished when he walked in.

He saw the luggage piled by the door, and a flicker of panic crossed his face before it settled back into the same tired look he always wore.

"Upset again? I'll ask Paulette in a bit, see how we're supposed to smooth things over with you this time."

I looked at him coldly and said, meaning every word,

"Don't bother. We're breaking up. Please take your things and go."

He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep his temper down and pulled a bouquet of roses out from behind his back.

"Stop it. I bought these especially for you."

One touch of roses and I break out in a rash all over.

He knew. He'd seen it. He'd just never cared.

Back when an onion made Paulette's eyes water, Asher fussed over it endlessly and made sure onions never came near her again.

"Give them to Paulette."

I shoved the bouquet away hard.

Asher frowned, his anger finally boiling over.

"What does this have to do with Paulette?"

"Even when you're being unreasonable, Paulette and I have gone out of our way to keep you happy. I honestly don't know what else you could possibly want."

The words had barely left his mouth when his phone rang.

Paulette's voice came through from the other end:

"Ashy, is Josie making a fuss about breaking up with you? Come over to my place. I'll teach you a few tricks—they'll come in handy for handling women later on."

He hung up, picked up his car keys, and said to me, flat and cold,

"Something's come up with Paulette. I'm going over. You take some time and calm down."

"When I get back, we'll talk about the wedding."

The moment he left, I threw the roses out the door.

I sat down and checked my flight. The day it took off was the exact day of our wedding.

4: 4

Night fell. I curled up on the couch and drifted off.

Half-asleep, I heard the lock rattle.

I figured it was Asher coming back for his things, so I just lay there without moving.

But the sounds at the door kept getting stranger.

The keypad beeps came fast and thick, one after another,

and then that string of wrong password tones tightened something cold in my chest.

I crept to the door.

I looked through the peephole.

No one there.

And right then, the power cut out. Total darkness.

The knocking started, sudden and hard.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I grabbed my phone and called my emergency contact.

Asher picked up fast. When he heard me crying,

the other end went quiet for a few seconds,

and then Paulette burst out laughing:

"See? I told you she can't do without you. My idea worked, didn't it!"

"Yeah. Real clever little thing."

The door opened.

Asher and Paulette were standing there.

Paulette pointed at me, laughing so hard she could barely stand.

Asher stepped forward and took my hand.

"Jo-Jo, look at the state of you. What would you do without me? Still going to talk to me about breaking up?"

For one moment, I felt like a clown in a circus.

I was shaking all over, tears pouring down my face.

"Get out! Both of you, get out!" I shoved at them with everything I had, forcing them toward the door.

I'd told Asher before.

A few years ago, a strange man forced his way into my home.

He knocked me out with a club and dragged me into the bathroom.

Thank God a neighbor called the police in time and saved me, or it would have been unthinkable.

But it left a shadow on me that never went away.

My migraines started then.

Thirty-six times now.

On purpose.

He did it on purpose.

They did it on purpose.

The two of them were still saying something in front of me.

I watched their mouths open and close,

then a spike of pain split my head, and I passed out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital.

Asher was keeping watch by the bed. When he saw me wake, the deep line between his brows finally eased:

"Jo-Jo, you're awake."

I turned my face away, refusing to look at him.

He didn't get angry. He just stayed with me.

Two full days and nights, never leaving my side.

Every day Asher had people bring in all kinds of nourishing meals.

Before each meal he'd stroke my head:

"Jo-Jo, I'll take care of you for the rest of your life."

I just kept my head down and ate. Getting my strength back was what mattered most.

Paulette came to the room every day to go over wedding details with Asher.

They deliberately kept their voices low and vague, then told me it was so I could relax and be the bride.

I nodded faintly and said nothing.

On the wedding day,

I took a cab straight to the airport.

Someone heard it was an influencer's wedding and went to the venue to livestream it.

Waiting at the gate, I happened to scroll into the stream,

and saw the whole place done in black, skulls and mummy props scattered across the floor, dim and oppressive.

A guest was muttering: "This doesn't look like a wedding. It looks more like a funeral..."

The person beside her quickly covered her mouth, signaling her not to say things like that.

On the screen,

Asher stood on the stage, eyes full of anticipation, watching the entrance.

Then all the lights went out.

Everyone waited quietly for the bride to enter.

The doors slowly drew open,

and the instant the spotlight lit up what stood beyond them,

the whole crowd screamed,

and the anticipation on Asher's face turned in a heartbeat into disbelieving shock...