Scarlet

Scarlet McCanin The restaurant was exactly as I'd pictured it for three years. Candlelight. Roses. The kind of place where proposals happened. I'd called Adi that morning before my manicure, before the blow-out, before I'd squeezed into this red dress that made me feel like the best version of myself. The dress that made me feel powerful. The dress that made me feel like I was about to start the rest of my life. "Hi Adi, I think Ed is going to propose tonight. Ristorante Bellissimo. His favorite place." I'd been breathless. Ridiculous, in retrospect. Adi's voice came back steady, amused: "Sweets, if he does, I'm buying the most expensive champagne. If he doesn't, I'm buying the most expensive tequila. Either way, I'm there for you." "I know you don't like him, Ads. Just... be happy for me?" A pause. Then: "If he makes you happy, I'm happy. Even if I think there's someone better out there." I'd laughed it off. Adi always did this—the protective best friend routine. But she didn't understand Ed. Nobody did. Ed was solid. Reliable. He'd been there when I was rebuilding myself after my parents died. He'd held me when I couldn't hold myself together. Three years we'd been together. Three years of building something real. Or so I thought. The hostess showed me to a table meant for three. My stomach flipped. Three. That was specific. My first thought was excitement—was someone else joining us? A friend? A family member? Was this part of the surprise? Then I saw Kenre. My sister next to Edmond at the bar, her hands on his arm. Then we locked eyes. She looked nervous. Ed looked guilty. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I stood there for a moment—just standing, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Kenre was supposed to be in Cape Town this weekend. A work conference. That's what she'd told me last week when I mentioned Ed was taking me out. They walked to the table with three glasses of champagne. "Hi, Scar," Kenre started, her voice small. Apologetic. Like she already knew I understood. I couldn't find words. The table was too small. The air felt suffocating. The candles suddenly felt like they were burning too bright, illuminating something I wasn't ready to see. Ed hands me my glass. Ed reached for my hand. "Babe, you know I love you very much, right?" I pulled away. "Don't." "We tried to fight the feelings we developed for each other. I promise you, we did." That word—tried. As if trying mattered. As if the attempt to resist was supposed to make the betrayal hurt less. The champagne glass was cold in my hand. For exactly one second, I thought about putting it down gently. Thought about leaving with my dignity intact. Thought about being the bigger person, the one who walked away without making a scene. “How long?” I asked. Ed answered, "We only started five months ago," and something inside me broke. Five months. That meant while I was hoping for this night, believing in this future, he was already with her. That meant the last five months of my life were built on a lie. My hand just... squeezed. The glass shattered. Champagne and blood mixed on the white tablecloth. The sound was loud—a crack that seemed to echo through the entire restaurant. Heads turned. A waiter moved toward us. I looked at my hand, at the blood spreading across my palm, and I almost laughed. Of course. Of course my body was expressing what my mind couldn't process. "Scarlet—" Ed moved toward me, reaching for my injured hand like that was the problem here. "No." I stood, cradling my bleeding hand against my chest. "No. You keep doing... whatever this is. Congratulations." I looked at them both— sitting there like they'd won something. Like they were victorious. Like this mattered more than the three years I'd given him. More than the sister bond Kenre and I had somehow survived despite our differences. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't want to see you again. I wish you all the love in..." I circled my hand in the air, leaving small drops of blood on the tablecloth, "whatever it is you have going on." I walked out. The click of my heels on the marble floor was the only sound I let myself hear. Everything else—their voices, the concerned whispers of other diners, the waiter calling after me—I shut it all out. I didn't look back. ________________________________________ Adi knew before I told her. She read me like a book, always had. I showed up at her door bleeding and broken, and she just pulled me inside without asking questions. Didn't ask where Ed was or why I looked like I'd survived a war. Just wrapped me in her arms and held me while I shook. I found myself on her bed an hour later, my head in her lap, her fingers stroking my hair while I tried not to think about anything at all. My hand was throbbing. The bleeding had slowed but not stopped. "Talk to me," Adi said softly. "Tell me what happened." So I did. I told her about the table for three. About Kenre's and Ed's at the bar. About the moment he said three months and something inside me just... broke. Adi's jaw clenched. I could feel the anger radiating off her, the protectiveness that had defined our friendship since university. "I'm going to kill him," she said quietly. "I'm going to kill both of them." "Get in line," I whispered. "It'll work out better than you could imagine," she said after a long silence, her fingers never stopping their gentle stroking through my hair. "The right guy will come your way, and he'll make you happier than you ever thought possible. You just have to be patient." I wanted to believe her. But patient felt like a luxury I couldn't afford. Patient felt like waiting. And I was done waiting for anything. The bleeding wouldn't stop. By eleven o'clock, Adi was driving me to the ER, her hand on my arm the whole way, anchoring me to the present. The emergency room was chaos—people everywhere, fluorescent lights that made everything look worse than it was. I sat in a plastic chair holding paper towels to my hand while Adi filled out forms. "Scarlet McCanin?" I looked up. A doctor stood there—tall, professional, with kind eyes that had probably seen a lot worse than a broken champagne glass wound. "I'm Dr. Logan," he said. "Let's see what we're working with." The ER visit was clinical and cold. He examined my hand with steady, careful movements. Didn't flinch at the blood. Didn't ask intrusive questions about how it happened. Just assessed the damage and got to work. "You're going to need stitches," he said, preparing the materials. "About six or seven. You got lucky—no major tendons damaged, no deep tissue involvement. You'll be fine." Fine. Such a strange word. I wasn't fine. I would never be fine again. While he stitched up my hand he asked me distracting questions like, what I do for a living, and who is me. Nothing deep, nothing personal. Adi waited in the corner like she'd physically fight anyone who hurt me further. I caught her eye a few times during the stitching process, and she gave me that look—the one that said I've got you. When Logan was done, he cleaned up the area and examined his work with satisfaction. "Beautiful stitching if I do say so myself," he said, and there was something kind in his voice. Something that suggested he understood this was about more than just a cut hand. "It'll heal nicely. Minimal scarring." He handed me his card as I was leaving. "Call if anything seems off. My personal number's on there." I didn't think I'd use it. I didn’t think I would ever see him again. ________________________________________ "Let's go to the pub," Adi said, that mischievous glint already in her eyes as we left the ER. "I bet there's someone willing to better your night." I shook my head. "Just us two. No guys. Not tonight." We went to The Brass Tap, a place we'd been going to since university. Adi ordered tequila. I ordered wine. We found a spot near the dance floor and let the music swallow us whole. We danced until 3 AM, the bass vibrating through my chest, the lights strobing across my vision. The music was loud enough to drown out everything else—the hurt, the betrayal, the voice in my head that kept replaying Ed's guilty face. For a few hours, I almost felt okay. Almost felt like a woman who hadn't just had her entire future dismantled. Adi spun me around, and we both laughed—the kind of laugh that came from deep in your belly, from a place that hadn't been touched yet by the night's destruction. Then a hand touched my shoulder. I turned and my blood went cold. "What the f**k?" I stormed outside, Adi right behind me, her hand immediately finding the small of my back. The night air was cold. The street was mostly empty except for the usual late-night crowd. "Scar, I—" Kenre started, following us out. "No. Don't call me that. Scar is for friends. You get 'Scarlet.'" My voice was steady, which was impressive considering I was shaking inside. "And you—" I looked at Ed. "You don't get to show up anywhere I am. Not tonight. Not ever." "We just wanted to talk," Ed said, like talking was going to fix this. Like words could somehow undo the last three months. "When did these feelings start?" I demanded, my eyes locked on Kenre. "And I want the truth. Not the version you've been telling yourself. The actual truth." Kenre looked at Ed. Ed looked at the ground. "Five months ago," Ed finally said. The words hit me like a punch. Five months. That was before my birthday. That was when I was planning this night, when I was imagining our future, when I was completely f*****g blind. "Did you cut contact?" I asked Kenre. "Did you distance yourselves? Did you do anything to stop it?" "No," Kenre whispered. "So what exactly did you do to stop it?" My voice was getting louder now, people on the street were starting to notice. I didn't care. Ed looked at me, and I could see he was struggling. Good. He should struggle. "I thought if I told you we tried everything, it would hurt less," he said quietly. Something inside me cracked. "That's not trying, you asshole. That's lying. That's choosing the lie that makes you feel better about what you did." I stepped closer to him. "You've been f*****g my sister behind my back for five months. For five months while I was planning a future with you. While I was imagining us getting married. While I was falling deeper in love with you." "Scarlet—" Kenre reached for me. I held up my hand. "Don't. You don't get to touch me. You don't get to speak to me. You made your choice." Adi stepped up beside me, and the energy shifted. We were a unit now. Me and Adi against the rest of the world. "You might want to get out of the road," Adi said to both of them, her voice low and dangerous. "I could mistake the gas pedal for the brake real easy." We walked away from both of them. I didn't look back.