Unchosen Bride

Amari's First

I stood there, staring at myself in the big bathroom mirror, wiping away the tears that just wouldn’t stop rolling down my cheeks. My heart feels like it’s been stomped on, and I can’t wrap my head around this mess.

Nevin, my boyfriend of three freaking years, cheated on me with some random college chick he met while on vacation.

Three years of ups and downs, laughter and fights, building a life together—or so I thought—and not once did I catch even a whiff of him being shady.

No weird texts, no late-night excuses, nothing! I mean, come on, how clueless was I to miss this? I’ve been riding or dying for this man, and he just tosses it all out the window for some fling?

I’m hurt, I’m pissed, but damn it, I’m still kinda hoping I’m wrong about this whole thing, even though deep down I know I’m not. Guess love really does make you blind—and stupid.

"Girl, are you seriously sitting here, looking this gorgeous, just to cry over that absolute i***t?" Inara asked, as she leaned over the counter next to me, brushing on her mascara.

Inara’s been my ride-or-die bestie since high school, the kind of friend who’s always got your back even when she’s throwing shade.

She’s never been a fan of Nevin—never, not for a single second of the three years I’ve been with him. She’s been dropping hints, straight-up warnings, and even those not-so-subtle eye rolls every time his name came up.

But did I listen? Nope, not a chance. I was too busy being all heart-eyes and ‘he’s different’ to see what was right in front of me.

Now here I am, a hot mess in the bathroom mirror, proving her right, and I know she’s itching to say ‘I told you so’—but in true Inara fashion, she's probably holding it back just to spare my feelings, even though I can see in her eyes that she's THAT right.

She’s got this way of being brutally honest but still somehow making you feel like she’s hugging you through the tough love.

"I mean, come on, babe," she continued, flicking her eyeliner with precision while side-eyeing me.

"You’re way too fine to be wasting tears on a dude who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a cheap vacation hookup. You deserve someone who’s gonna worship the ground you walk on, not some clown who’s out here playing games."

I know she’s right… Deep down, I do, but my dumb heart is still aching over Nevin, and I hate admitting that I ignored every red flag she pointed out.

I leaned against the bathroom counter, my reflection a blurry mess through the tears still clinging to my lashes.

My chest felt heavy, like someone had dropped a brick on it, and I couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh at Inara’s words. She always knew how to cut through the drama with her no-nonsense attitude, even if it stung a little.

"Girl, you’re preaching to the choir, but I can’t just flip a switch and stop caring about Nevin, you know?" I said, my voice cracking as I dabbed at my eyes with a crumpled tissue.

"Three years, Inara. Three damn years of thinking we were building something real, and now I’m just... what? A placeholder until some college bimbo caught his eye on a beach somewhere? It’s pathetic how much this hurts."

Inara paused mid-lipstick application, turning to face me with that signature look of hers—half pity, half ‘get your s**t together.’

She set the tube down with a dramatic clink and crossed her arms, her perfectly arched brows raising like she was about to drop some serious truth on me.

"Listen, babe, I get it. Three years is a long-ass time to invest in someone, especially a dude like Nevin who I’ve been telling you smells like bad news since day one," Inara said.

“But you crying over him right now? That’s giving him way too much power. He doesn’t deserve your tears, your time, or even a second thought. You’re out here looking like a whole snack, and he’s the one who fumbled the bag. Let him live with that regret while you move on to bigger and better things—preferably someone who isn’t a walking red flag."

My eyes were puffy, my mascara was a disaster, and yet here she was, hyping me up like I was some runway model instead of a heartbroken mess. A small smile tugged at my lips despite the ache in my chest.

"You’re too good to me, Inara," I finished, my voice still a little wobbly but carrying a hint of genuine gratitude.

"I know you’ve been warning me about Nevin forever, and I’m such an i***t for not listening. I just... I thought I knew him, you know? Like, really knew him. And now I’m standing here, looking like a raccoon with this smudged makeup, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet."

She let out a loud snort, shaking her head as she picked up her lipstick again, swiping it across her lips with a smirk. She glanced at me in the mirror.

"Babe, you’re not a fool, you’re just human. We’ve all been there, falling for some dude who doesn’t deserve half the energy we give ‘em.” She trailed off for a moment.

“And yeah, your mascara is doing some wild things right now, but even as a hot mess, you’re still hotter than 90% of the population. So, wipe those tears, fix that face, and let’s get out of this bathroom before it turns into a full-blown therapy session," she finished, giving me a playful nudge with her elbow.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, even as I dabbed at my eyes one more time with the crumpled tissue.

My reflection still looked like a train wreck, but her energy was contagious. I straightened up a bit, taking a deep breath as I tried to pull myself together.

My chest still ached, the betrayal from Nevin cutting deeper than I wanted to admit, but Inara’s no-BS attitude was like a lifeline pulling me out of my pity party.

"Alright, alright, you win, Dr. Phil," I teased, managing a small, genuine smile as I grabbed a makeup wipe from the counter to start fixing the disaster on my face.

“I’ll stop crying over that jerk—at least for tonight. But if I catch myself staring at old pics of us later, you’ve got full permission to slap me."

Inara let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest like I’d just insulted her entire existence, before bursting into laughter.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me, her smirk growing wider.

"Oh, honey, don’t tempt me. I’ll slap some sense into you faster than you can say ‘Nevin who?’" she quipped, her tone dripping with playful menace.

"But for real, if I catch you scrolling through those sappy couple pics at 2 a.m., I’m staging an intervention. No more wallowing over that loser. We’re done with that chapter, okay? Tonight, we’re rewriting the story—starting with you looking hot and unbothered."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but real, cutting through the heaviness in my chest for the first time in hours.

My fingers worked the makeup wipe across my cheeks, scrubbing away the streaks of mascara. The puffiness around my eyes wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but I could at least try to look less like I’d been sobbing over a guy who clearly didn’t deserve it.

"You’re ruthless, you know that?" I said, my voice still a bit thick with emotion but carrying a lighter tone now.

"But honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you dragging me out of my own drama. You’re like the fairy godmother of tough love—except instead of a magic wand, you’ve got savage one-liners."

She flashed me a grin in the mirror, popping her lips after applying her lipstick and giving herself an approving nod before turning to me with that mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Babe, if I’m your fairy godmother, then consider me the version that doesn’t sugarcoat s**t. No glass slippers here—just a swift kick in the ass to remind you who the hell you are without that deadweight named Nevin dragging you down," she said, placing a hand on her hip.

"Alright, alright, message received, loud and clear," I said, tossing the used makeup wipe into the trash and grabbing my concealer to start damage control on my puffy, tear-streaked face.

"Girl, you need to come out with me tonight and get absolutely s**t-faced at the bar. Forget about that lowlife Nevin and his side chick. Let's go paint the town red and find us some real men who know how to treat a queen like you," she gave me an exaggerated wink.

She looked me up and down with that signature head-to-toe scan of hers—half approving, half critical.

"You're looking good enough to eat right now, babe. A few more swipes of concealer under those bloodshot eyes, maybe a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones for that extra glow—and voila! You'll be ready to work the room like the bad b***h you are."

"Inara, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up and all, but I don't know if going out and getting drunk is really my vibe right now," I said, my voice still a bit wobbly as I dabbed at the lingering mascara smudges under my eyes.

"I mean, don't get me wrong—the idea of forgetting Nevin's existence for a few hours sounds amazing. But like... do you really think throwing back shots is gonna make me feel better in the long run? I just broke up with my boyfriend of three years. That's not exactly a 'let's go party' kind of situation."

She rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck that way.

"Babe, please. You're overthinking this harder than a philosophy major trying to solve the meaning of life. Getting blackout drunk isn't about fixing your problems—it's about giving yourself permission to stop caring for one night," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"And trust me, after downing enough tequila shots to make a Mexican proud, you won't be thinking about Nevin's dumb ass for even a second. You'll be too busy grinding on some hot stranger who actually deserves your time and energy."

I had to admit, the idea of letting loose and forgetting my troubles for a few hours was tempting.

"Okay, okay, you've convinced me," I said with a sigh, setting down my concealer wand and turning to face her fully.

"Let's do this. Let's go out and show the world that you're not just fine without Nevin—we're f*****g thriving."