I had been with my fiancée for three years, and I always knew she had a close male friend.

At first, I was uneasy and argued about it, but my fiancée mysteriously reassured me that her friend, Ryan Brooks, was into men.

She even showed me photos of Ryan with one of his ex-boyfriends, both looking very intimate, and that finally put me at ease.

On the day of our wedding, I brought along a custom-made ring, ready to give her a surprise.

But by chance, I walked into the storage room and caught my fiancée and Ryan in the middle of an affair.

"Baby, tell me—am I better, or is your fiancé better?"

Ryan pinned my fiancée against the wall, moving roughly as he taunted her.

Through ragged breaths, Claire moaned, "Of course it's you!"

"Ethan Miller is such a block of wood. He doesn’t have your flair. But hey, he’s gentle and considerate—he’s been footing the bill for everything we eat and drink these past few years."

I stood frozen, listening to them insult me while they were still wrapped up in each other.

Half an hour later, they finally finished. As she left, Claire looked back with obvious longing.

"The ceremony is about to start. Once it’s over, come to my place tonight."

I stood in the corner, my teeth grinding so hard they almost cracked.

They thought I was some idiot. Let’s see if they could handle the price for playing me.

...

I returned to the groom’s lounge at the hotel. Not long after, Ryan came in as if nothing had happened. He casually placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Buddy, you’re marrying my girl today. You better take good care of her. I’ll be dropping by your place all the time to keep an eye on you."

For three years, Ryan had always acted overly chummy around me, and since I thought he was gay, I never once put up my guard.

For three years, I cooked, cleaned, and treated him like a friend of my fiancée.

Who would’ve thought—he played the brotherly act to my face while treating me like a fool behind my back.

I glanced at the marks on his neck and suddenly smiled. "Of course," I replied.

My words made everyone in the room exchange glances and chuckle knowingly.

I wasn’t from New York—I’d only stayed because of Claire.

Everyone in that room was one of her friends, and their eyes said it all: I was the outsider.

Some even spoke in veiled tones:

"Ryan and Claire are so lucky to have a guy like Ethan."

"The real blessing is yet to come. Ethan is such a good man!"

Their words sounded like compliments, but their smirks told me otherwise.

Looking back now, all the signs had been there. I had just been too blind to see them.

One of them started speaking French right in front of me:

"That guy is wearing the biggest green hat I’ve ever seen. You guys are terrible—bullying such an honest man."

"Blame him for being dumb, and Ryan and Claire for being too smart."

"Aren’t you afraid Ethan might understand you?"

Ryan suddenly burst into laughter, making no effort to hide the mockery.

"He never even went to college. You think he understands French? Relax—he’s just some bumpkin. Claire only sticks with him because he’s obedient."

"Come on, he cooks, does laundry, and brings in money—who wouldn’t want a lapdog like that?"

Everyone roared with laughter.

My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white.

They thought I didn’t understand, thought I was uneducated.

Little did they know, I had already finished my studies abroad and was simply waiting for graduation day.

They kept laughing, not even bothering to pretend I wasn’t there.

It turned out everyone had known about Ryan and Claire all along—except me.

I grabbed the glass of water on the table and drained it in one go.

Just then, Claire walked in, frowning at the sound of their gossip.

"What are you all saying in front of my fiancé?"

She came over to me, wearing her usual sweet, caring expression.

"Ethan, don’t be upset. They were just practicing their French. They didn’t mean to leave you out."

The moment her hand brushed mine, a wave of disgust shot through me.

A second ago she had been fooling around with Ryan, and now she was playing the doting bride-to-be.

Everyone thought Claire loved me.

Once upon a time, I thought so too.

I calmly avoided her touch and, with a blank expression, said,

"The wedding is about to start. Go chat with them for a bit."

Claire didn’t think twice and turned back to her friends, speaking French again.

The group, emboldened after her scolding, teased her with mischievous smiles:

"Claire, you defend Ethan and still can’t stay away from Ryan. Who do you actually love?"

"Who says I can only love one? Ryan’s fun, but he’s not husband material. He’s just for playing around with."

Their laughter filled the room.

"Only Claire could juggle two men and keep her fiancé completely clueless."

Then someone turned the conversation toward Ryan:

"Claire’s about to get married. Aren’t you going to do anything special?"

Ryan chuckled. "Special? I’ve already stayed in Claire’s condo plenty of times. Every corner is full of our memories. And even if she marries Ethan, I can still drop by whenever I want. After all, Ethan’s my good buddy."

The more they said, the more revolting it became.

I suddenly shot to my feet, startling everyone.

They all turned to look at me as I kept a cold, hard face.

"I’m going to check if the ceremony is ready."

As I walked out, my thoughts swirled with memories of the years Claire and I had spent together.

Back then, she was the one who had pursued me.

She’d seemed gentle, understanding, rarely losing her temper. I’d thought she loved me wholeheartedly.

Over time, I let myself fall deeper and deeper.

I’d originally only come to New York on a short business trip.

But once I fell for Claire, I couldn’t bear to leave—so I stayed.

My family had called me several times, asking me to come back. I refused every time.

They didn’t approve of Claire, even threatening to cut ties with me, but I chose her anyway.

Years of devotion—turns out, it was all a joke.

Just then, the wedding planner approached me to go over the program one last time.

This wedding had been in the works for months, but I suddenly felt no joy at all.

"Simplify the whole program," I told him.

As I said it, it felt like something inside me had been lifted away.

I let out a long breath of relief.

I decided I’d let Claire go gracefully.

If she liked Ryan so much, I would give them my blessing.

Just as I was about to call Claire, one of the giant decorative posters nearby came loose and crashed down on me.

The call connected at that exact moment.

Hearing my cry of pain, Claire’s voice immediately grew anxious.

"Ethan, what happened? Are you hurt?"

I touched the spot where I’d been hit and felt the blood on my forehead.

"Nothing serious. Just a loose decoration that fell."

"Claire, can you come over right now? I need to talk to you about something."

I wanted to tell her face to face, end things cleanly. There were so many guests here today—it would give her some dignity.

"Okay. Where are you? I’ll come right away."

But before she could hang up, I heard a soft, breathy moan on the other end.

Then Ryan’s voice came through, the two of them switching to French so I wouldn’t understand.

"Where are you going? You look stunning in that wedding dress. You know, I’ve never had you while you were wearing it before."

His words were explicit, heavy with implication.

"Claire, you’re about to get married. You two will have plenty of time to talk later, but we don’t have that luxury. Don’t you want one last wild time? Right here, in this dressing room—wearing that dress?"

My heart pounded. I waited, hoping Claire would choose to come to me.

If she came, we could still part on decent terms.

I had loved her, after all. I didn’t want to humiliate her.

But her next words crushed what little hope I had left.

"Can’t we talk later or over the phone? I’m in the middle of getting my makeup done. I want to look perfect for you—I want to be the most beautiful bride in the room."

Her voice was breathless, as if she was already giving in to temptation.

My heart sank completely. Whatever last bit of hope I’d been holding on to was gone.

To Claire, I was just a safe, convenient choice. A man who made her feel secure—nothing more.

When I stayed silent, she assumed I’d hung up.

And then, with no shame at all, she and Ryan went right back to each other.

Between moans, they talked about what life would be like after I married her.

"Claire, even after you’re married, you can’t forget about me. I’ll come by every week. You won’t mind, right?"

"Well, Ethan isn’t from New York. For him to afford a condo here, he must have emptied his whole family’s savings. I should definitely make the most of it."

Her voice came through, broken but smug.

"It’s just a condo. If I want something, he won’t dare refuse. I’ll get him to sign the deed over to me soon. Once I’m the official owner, I can tell the building management to let you in whenever you want."

My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

I didn’t say a word. I just hung up, patched up my wound as best I could, and went to find the wedding planner.

This time, I had an additional request.