The Wrong Vows

Standing in front of the mirror, I run my fingers over the fabric of the dress Mia sent me. It's stunning—deep emerald with a subtle shimmer that catches the light. Classic, bold and a little dramatic. Just like Mia. It’s the biggest day of her life, the day she walks the opening runway for her favorite brand. We were both buzzing with excitement until I heard a name that turned my stomach—Andres. My heart pounds harder at the thought. It’s been ten years. Ten years of carefully burying old feelings, locking them away like a forgotten diary, only for his presence to rip them open again. For a brief second, I consider not going, letting some excuse roll off my tongue, but the thought vanishes just as fast. I can't do that to Mia. Not today. The sharp buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. Mia's name flashes across the screen, along with yet another message. Mia: "Be ready and ON TIME, woman. Don’t make me drag you there." I chuckle. That’s the tenth time she’s texted me today. I can practically hear the mix of excitement and stress in her voice. Me: "Yes, yes, I’m coming. Chill." I hit send and let out a sigh, but my mind had already drifted back to the past. High school. The days when I had a ridiculous, impossible crush on my best friend’s brother. But to be fair, every girl had a crush on Andres. He was effortlessly handsome, the kind of guy who could make teachers go easy on him with just a polite smile. But my feelings weren’t just about his looks. He was different. Unlike the typical rich, arrogant guys at our school, Andres carried himself with quiet confidence. He was respectful, observant, a mystery none of us could quite solve. Not that it mattered. I never confessed. The fear of rejection, of ruining something before it even began, always held me back. Our conversations were limited to "Hey, is Mia home?" whenever he answered the door, and a nod before he disappeared into his room. Our families were close—business partners, friends, practically intertwined in every way. But while Mia and I were inseparable, and my twin sister Serena got along effortlessly with Andres, I always felt like a ghost in his world. Did he ever notice me? A part of me didn’t want to know the answer. I don't realize when I fall asleep, lost in tangled thoughts, but the obnoxious ringing of my phone jolts me awake. I groggily reached for it. "Hello?" "YOU'RE STILL SLEEPING?" Mia’s voice is a siren in my ear. I flinch. "Mia, it's five in the morning. We have hours—" "Oh, really?" she snaps. "Whenever we travel, you wake me up at the c***k of dawn to pack and repack, and now suddenly time isn’t an issue? Get up, get dressed, and do not be late!" I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Fine, fine. I’m getting up. Happy?" "Ecstatic." She hangs up, and I roll out of bed, dragging myself toward the shower. Even as I let the cold water run over me, a single thought lingers. Andres will be there. It shouldn’t matter, but my heart doesn’t get the memo. It still beats a little too fast. A decade has passed since we last saw each other, but I’ve seen him—on magazine covers, news reports, business articles. A young, successful CEO now, just like his father always wanted. But I remember a different Andres, one who loved football more than boardrooms, one who dreamed of something beyond family expectations. At least Mia’s dream came true. She always wanted this—runways, cameras, the spotlight. And today, she has it. I finished getting ready, slipping into the emerald dress, letting my hair fall in soft waves. My makeup is subtle, but my lips are painted the same bold red Mia swears for. I take a deep breath and head out. The second I arrive, I’m hit with chaos. Lights, flashing cameras, an ocean of paparazzi. The energy is electric. "Isabella! Look here! Miss Nash ! Look here!" I blink as flashes explode around me. I’m not famous, but being Mia’s best friend—and a somewhat known author—has made me recognizable to some. I move through the crowd, my pulse quickening as I step inside. Despite Mia’s relentless insistence, I refused to sit in the front row. I know exactly who’s sitting there. Instead, I found a seat further back. The venue dims, the lights shift, and suddenly, the runway is glowing. Then she appears. Mia steps onto the stage, and for a moment, she doesn’t look real. She’s radiant—majestic. Dressed in an ethereal white gown, angelic wings trailing behind her, she commands the room with effortless grace. The crowd holds its breath. Cameras click. She owns this moment. She winks at the audience, then suddenly blows a kiss toward someone. My gaze follows hers, and my stomach twists. Andres Rodriguez. Even with his back to me, he stands out—broad-shouldered, confident, unmistakable. He smiles at Mia, recording her like a proud brother. But then— Mia blows another kiss. This time, to me. I freeze. My face heats up as murmurs ripple through the audience, people turning, wondering who she’s directing it to. And then— Andres notices. His head turns. Our eyes meet. For the first time in ten years. My breath catches. The world tilts, and for a split second, it’s just us. He looks at me. And then—nothing. No shift in expression. No recognition. He simply turns back to the runway, as if I were just another face in the crowd. I exhale, forcing my hands to stay still. I don’t know what I expected. A smile? A flicker of something? The show continues, models walking past, music pulsing, but my mind is elsewhere. He saw me. And it meant nothing. But it’s okay. That’s what I wanted. I don’t need his attention. But still… my heart clenches a little. Even after ten years, he felt nothing. Who cares? I do. My thoughts break when a familiar voice fills my ears. Mia. I turn, and my stomach flips—Andres is standing beside her. Just like before, I pretended not to see him, focusing on Mia instead. She grins and throws her arms around me. "So? "Didn’t I rock?" she demands. I smiled. "Yes, you did. It was amazing." For a moment, I wonder why I’m not into women. "You know, if I were a lesbian," I tease. Mia bursts into laughter. "Oh, please, I’d be your type." Then she narrows her eyes. "And where were you sneaking off to without seeing me?" I scrambled for an excuse. "I thought you’d be busy, so I planned to call you after reaching home." Mia waves me off. "Forget it. Party at my place tonight. You’re coming." My stomach drops. No, please. "I’m not feeling well…" Mia smirks. "Oh, really? Then Andres can pick you up." I panic. "NO!" Mia raises an eyebrow. "Wow." You sound real sick. See you at 8." And just like that, she walks away, leaving me alone with Andres. I glanced at him, forcing a smile—why did I do that?—and then bolted before he could say a word.