HATE ME PROPERLY THIS TIME

On the night of her fifth wedding anniversary, Aria Vance's best friend announced that she was carrying Aria's husband's child. Two hours earlier, Aria had been laughing. "Hold still," Celeste Monroe said, standing behind her in front of the tall mirror. Her fingers worked at the clasp of Aria's necklace. "If you keep moving, I'll strangle you with it." "You've been saying that since we were nine." "And I've never done it. That's love." The clasp clicked. Celeste rested her chin on Aria's shoulder, and their eyes met in the mirror. "You look like a queen tonight," Celeste said softly. Aria smiled. They had grown up on the same narrow street, sharing one bicycle and a thousand secrets. Twenty years later, Celeste still hyped her up like it was their first school dance. Tonight, the Thorne mansion was glowing. Five years ago, Aria had married Lucas Thorne, heir to the richest family in Valemont, even though his mother had called her "the girl from nowhere" to her face. Five years later, Aria still believed love had been worth it. Lucas had stood up to his father for her. He had held her hand at the altar while his mother refused to smile. Once, he had been brave for her. 'I'm the luckiest woman in this city,' she thought. She didn't know it was the last time she would ever laugh with Celeste. *** The ballroom was full by eight. Crystal chandeliers. Champagne towers. A hundred guests in silk and diamonds, all here to celebrate the Thorne marriage. Vivienne Thorne stood near the stage in pearls, greeting everyone with a gracious smile. When Celeste walked in, Vivienne opened her arms. "Celeste, darling. You look radiant." When Aria followed, Vivienne's smile cooled by several degrees. "Aria," she said curtly. "You're late." "We're five minutes early, Mother." "Hm." Aria let it go. Five years of practice had taught her how. Celeste squeezed her hand and whispered, "Ignore her. Tonight is about you." Aria squeezed back. What would she ever do without her? She searched the room for her husband. Lucas stood by the window in a black suit, tall and handsome, a glass of whiskey in his hand. When Aria waved, his eyes met hers for one second. Then he looked away. Aria frowned. He had been quiet for weeks. Working late. Sleeping in the study. Every time she asked, he said it was nothing. Last week, she had found him on the balcony at two in the morning, staring at his phone. When she touched his arm, he had flinched. 'It's just work,' she told herself. 'Tonight is ours.' *** At nine, the music softened. A waiter handed Aria a microphone. She stood, champagne glass in hand, and found Lucas in the crowd. Her heart was beating fast, the way it had on their wedding day. She had practiced this speech for a week. Her friend Tasha had told her to keep it short. 'Nobody wants to hear you cry about love, babe.' "Five years ago," she began, "I married a man who—" Ting. Ting. Ting. Someone tapped a glass. Louder. Every head turned toward Vivienne. "Forgive me, Aria," Vivienne said, smiling sweetly. "But before you speak, we have better news to share tonight." She held out her hand. Celeste stepped forward and took it, her cheeks pink, her eyes lowered shyly. "Celeste is pregnant," Vivienne announced. "With my grandchild." The ballroom fell silent. Aria stood frozen with the microphone in her hand. For a moment, the words made no sense. 'Grandchild.' Vivienne had only one son. Slowly, Aria turned toward the window. Lucas's face had gone pale. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white around the glass. He didn't deny it. He didn't laugh. He didn't even look at her. That silence told her everything. The champagne glass slipped from Aria's fingers and shattered on the marble floor. Nobody moved to help her. A woman whispered behind her hand. Someone laughed. Aria's face burned. Five years in this family, and she was still the girl from nowhere. *** Aria didn't remember crossing the room. Her ears were ringing. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Then she was standing in front of Celeste. The girl who had shared her bicycle. The girl who had held her hand at her father's funeral. The girl who had fixed her necklace two hours ago. "How long?" Aria asked quietly. Celeste's eyes filled with tears. To everyone watching, she looked heartbroken. She reached out and took Aria's hand, gently, as if to comfort her. Then she leaned close, so close her lips almost touched Aria's ear. "You were never supposed to have him," Celeste whispered. When she pulled back, she was smiling. It was a small smile. A cold one. It lasted only a second. But Aria saw it. Before she could speak, Celeste let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward. She hit the floor hard, both hands clutching her stomach. "My baby!" she screamed. "Aria, please—my baby!" Gasps exploded across the ballroom. "She pushed her!" "Oh my God, she's pregnant!" "Call an ambulance!" Aria stared at her own hand, still raised in the air where Celeste had been holding it. "I didn't—" Her voice came out thin. "I didn't touch her." No one was listening. Somewhere behind her, a man said, "Did you get that? Send it to me." All around the room, phones were already raised. Dozens of little screens glowed, pointed at her like spotlights. Aria looked down. Celeste lay curled on the marble, sobbing. Through her tears, her eyes found Aria's. There was no pain in them at all. Vivienne rushed to Celeste's side. "Don't move, darling. Help is coming." She looked up at Aria with pure disgust. "You jealous, vicious girl." Then Lucas was there. He pushed past Aria without a word and knelt beside Celeste, like he was forced to do it. He touched her shoulder carefully, as if she might break. Aria waited for him to look up. To ask her what happened. To believe her, the way he had promised to believe her for the rest of their lives. Slowly, Lucas lifted his head. He looked at his wife as if he had never seen her before. "Aria," he said quietly. "What have you done?”