One Night With My Ex's Best Friend

Melia’s Point of View It never occurred to me that one day I would receive the wedding invitation of my boyfriend, and I was not the bride. I double-checked the messages from Monica, a model I’d done a few shoots with, the same girl who had been trying to steal my boyfriend for years. She's the type who thrives on secrets and whispers, smiling too wide while sharpening knives behind your back. It can’t be. I think to myself as I read the words again. With joyful hearts The honor of your presence is requested at the wedding of Monica Elizabeth Smith to John Micheal Reyes Saturday the seventeenth of September twenty twenty-five at four p.m at Elim Guesthouse. Reception to follow. For a heartbeat, everything around me fades. The room begins to blur, and the air feels thin as I struggle to breathe. Micheal Reyes. No. No, no, no. It has to be a mistake. It has to be another Micheal. It can’t be my Micheal. He is out of town on a business trip. He told me so two days ago, his voice was soft, loving and his last words before hanging up were: “I love you.” I say, trying to convince myself, but the doubt beginning to eat at me makes unease coils through me. I grab my phone with numb fingers and dial his number. It rings once, then cuts straight to voicemail. I call again. Voicemail. I call him again, but it still goes straight to voicemail. A hollow laugh escapes me, as I shake my head. Of course. My eyes snap to the time on my phone, 4:02 p.m. It is happening right now, but maybe if I hurry, I can still make it before it ends. I am sure there is an explanation. Maybe this is just a terrible misunderstanding. I try to once again convince myself as I rush towards my bedroom to get ready. Unease coils in my stomach as panic begins to claw at my chest as I begin rummaging through my closet. My movements are frantic as I get ready, and tears that I refuse to acknowledge, sting my eyes. I don’t know what I am expecting to find when I get there. Maybe there really is just a misunderstanding. Or I will find a horrible truth…. Either way, I have to see it for myself. By the time I reach Elim Guesthouse, my pulse is racing. The parking lot is full, and I have to squeeze between cars before finding the entrance. Soft, romantic music drifts through the air, reaching me first. My eyes sweep over the area, it feels like I have stepped into someone else’s dream, flowers everywhere, with guests sitting in neat rows, their eyes fixed on the couple standing under an arch wrapped in flowers. And then… I see him. Micheal. My breath catches. For a heartbeat, I think I must be imagining things. But when he turns, my entire world tilts off its axis. It is really him. The groom standing there is Micheal… My Micheal… Suddenly, it makes sense why she invited me at the last minute. My heart clenches and it feels like it is being ripped straight out of my chest. The edges of my vision begin to blur. For a split second, I convince myself that it is a nightmare, that any moment now, I will wake up. But then he takes the ring, and my world stops. It’s him. It’s really him. Micheal Reyes. My Micheal. The man I trusted. The man I loved. Standing at the altar with another woman. My heart clenches and it feels like it is being ripped straight out of my chest. I can’t breathe as he smiles at her, with that same soft look he gives me. I want to scream, to demand an explanation, but I can’t move. I can’t speak. I am frozen to my spot, forced to watch as he slides the ring onto her finger and says the words that I thought he would one day promise to me. “Monica, I vow to love and support you until the end of my days.” He says, smiling at her with a soft, devoted look. She repeats the vows, each word hits me like a knife, before slipping the ring onto his finger and then they kiss. The guests cheer, but I just stand there, my feet rooted to the ground, my vision beginning to blur as the tears spill over. I stagger back. I don’t even remember leaving the ceremony. One minute, I am watching the man I love marry someone else, and the next I am inside the women’s bathroom, my hands slamming the stall door shut behind me before I collapse against the cold tile floor. Sobs tear out of me, raw and violent. How could he do this to me? How could he marry someone else without even ending things with me? Were they having an affair? Was she the reason that he has been “working late”? That he has had all of these business trips that he couldn’t get out of? All the unanswered calls? How long has this been going on behind my back? The questions run through me as I continue to sob on the floor. Every memory, every I love you, twists into a lie. Minutes stretch into an eternity. When I finally force myself up, my reflection in the mirror is a stranger. My eyes wild with mascara streaks running down my face, my lips trembling. I look pathetic. I splash cold water on my face, the shock snapping something inside of me. I dry my face before cleaning the smudges from my face. I fix my lipstick, and dab a little powder onto my flushed cheeks. When I meet my own eyes again, they are still red, but I look okay. “That’s better…” I whisper to myself. “She doesn’t get to see me broken.” I square my shoulders, taking a deep breath. I want answers and if I am going to burn, I will burn standing tall. The reception is buzzing when I step back in. People laughing all around me, clinking glasses. Celebrating the happy couple. A celebration I was never meant to witness. My eyes scan the crowd as soon as I step inside, but they are not here yet. Before I can ask anyone where they are, the announcer’s voice booms: “Everyone, please welcome the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes!” The doors swing open. And there they are, hand in hand, smiling radiantly at each other. Monica’s eyes scan the room… and land on me. Her grin widens, sharp and triumphant. She tightens her arm around his, pressing herself closer to him. Her gaze leaves me, and she looks up at him with a smile that is pure victory. He smiles back and leans down to kiss her again. The walls around me feel like they are starting to close in. I take a step forward, ready to scream, to demand some answers, when suddenly strong arms wrap around me from behind. “Don’t…” A deep voice murmurs against my ear, his warm breath fanning against my skin. “Don’t do it. She wants this. Don’t give her the satisfaction.” I recognize the voice immediately. Alexander Jace Maddox. An old school friend of mine. Alexander is one of the most powerful CEO’s around, and one of the most handsome men I know. And most importantly, he is Micheal’s best friend. My body trembles against him, but his hold is steady as he moves to form a wall between me and the madness in front of me. Slowly, I lift my head and meet his eyes. “Can you get me out of here?” I whisper. His expression softens immediately, and he nods his head. “Yeah, of course. Where do you want to go?” He asks, and I shrug, the tears threatening to fall again. “I don’t know. Somewhere I can get drunk and forget this ever happened.” He frowns, his jaw tightening slightly. “Lia, I don’t think…” “Please, Alex.” I breathe, gripping his shirt like it is the only thing keeping me upright. For a few minutes, he just looks at me. Then he lets out a long sigh, before nodding his head again. “Fine. Let’s go.” His hand finds mine, warm, and grounding, and together we walk out of the hall, leaving the laughter, the music, and the ashes of my trust behind.