When He Scorned My White Hair, I Shined Alone

After work, I hailed a cab and ended up with a female driver. She asked, "Your white hair is beautiful. Why hide it under a wig?" I have albinism. My skin and hair have been white since birth. People often treat me like a freak, so I never leave the house without a wig. That was why I cherished this rare bit of kindness, slipping the wig off and chatting with her the whole way home. When I got out, she handed me a wedding invitation. "I'm getting married tomorrow. You're welcome to come." The groom's name on the card read Tristan Merrick. The same Tristan I'd been carrying on a six-year secret romance with at the office. The next day, I went to the wedding venue. Tristan, who had never once been affectionate with me in public, was now holding her hand in front of every guest, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She introduced him to me brightly. "This is my husband, Tris." The Tristan I had loved for ten years gave me a polite, unfamiliar smile. "Hello. I'm Sera's husband." I looked at the matching wedding bands glittering on their fingers, paraded out for the world to see. So it was only with me that he had ever bothered to hide. A laugh slipped out of me. "Tristan, congratulations on your wedding." Seraphina Caldwell, radiant in her gown, looked stunned. "You two know each other?" We'd known each other for ten years. We'd been together for six. And yet, apart from the two of us, no one had ever known. Tristan had once told me that, because his parents were divorced, he didn't want to make our relationship public until the day we were certain we'd marry. So I waited and waited. I waited six years, and what came was his wedding to someone else. I didn't snap out of it until the coworker from the desk next to mine called my name. "Marina, what took you so long? Our department is at Table 10, right next to the other teams. Hurry up and sit down." I followed her gaze and saw rows of familiar faces. Only then did it sink in that he had gone all out, inviting every single person from the company, down to the cleaning ladies. The only one kept in the dark was me, his girlfriend. Seraphina clapped her hands like a delighted little girl. "So you two are coworkers! Then I can pick you up after work too, Marina. I go to fetch Tris every day anyway." My head whipped toward Tristan. For six years, to keep anyone from finding out, we had always left the office at different times. He used to ride his bike while I took cabs. At some point, he'd switched to taking cabs as well. The difference was that I caught a different one every day. He climbed into the same one. I no longer remember how I made it over to Table 10. When I went to sit, every chair was taken. There was no place for me. The ceremony was about to begin, and I was the only one left standing, conspicuous and out of place. Strange looks settled on me from every direction, and that old, familiar feeling of being treated as an outsider rose in my chest until I couldn't move. It was Seraphina who came over, full of apology. "I forgot I only invited you last minute. Let me have them bring an extra chair and a place setting for you." The moment I reached for the dishes, she let go. There was a sharp clatter as the porcelain shattered across the floor. Tristan yanked Seraphina behind him, terrified the shards might cut her. He didn't spare me a single glance. One of her bridesmaids frowned and snapped, "What is wrong with you, smashing things at a wedding? What if you'd hurt the bride?" Another bridesmaid cut in. "She came here to ruin the bride's day. Didn't you all know? She has a crush on the groom. He already turned her down, and she still chased him all the way to his wedding." The whisper of laughter rippled through the crowd. I caught the looks on people's faces, the ones hungry for a spectacle. And I caught Tristan's eyes, the way they slid away from mine. In six years of secret romance, no matter how careful you are, the way you look at someone you love, the way your body bends toward theirs, those things are nearly impossible to hide. I had hidden it badly. Tristan had hidden it perfectly. So perfectly that everyone believed the feelings were mine alone. I clenched my fist, my nails digging into my palm, and forced the words out. "Tristan, is that true?" His expression didn't shift. His brow furrowed faintly, his eyes wearing the cool, distant look I knew so well, empty of warmth. "Whatever happened in the past is in the past." The sentence was a slap delivered in front of everyone. Before it had even finished landing, the snickering crawled into my ears. I laughed anyway. "Manager Merrick is right." I bent down and began picking up the broken pieces one by one. My fingers split open on the shards, but I didn't stop. Tristan instinctively stepped forward, then caught himself. "Just have a waiter bring you a new set," he said. I ignored him, gathered every last fragment, and threw them in the trash. Then I walked out of the venue without looking back. Six years of love, just like that place setting. Broken was broken. The only thing left to do was grit my teeth and throw it away.