After Eight Years of Hiding, I Chose Myself

I spoke up again. "I'm really not joking. I'm getting engaged next month."

Tristan froze. He said he'd assumed I was just making excuses.

My brother chimed in with a grin.

"None of you knew? My little sister moves fast. And with a face like hers, what man wouldn't be wrapped around her finger?"

Tristan stood there, stunned, draining one glass after another.

He cut in abruptly.

"Stop making things up. Your sister's still single. Saying stuff like that will only hurt her reputation."

Then he dragged Myron back to keep drinking.

I sat in the corner, bored, flipping through songs on my phone.

A while later, Tristan suddenly left for the restroom. My phone buzzed. A text from him.

"Come out for a second."

I hesitated, then went.

The moment I reached the hallway outside the restroom, someone grabbed my arm hard and pulled me into a corner.

Tristan's eyes were rimmed red, fixed on me.

"Engaged? You really know how to get under my skin."

"This is just because I didn't kiss you earlier, isn't it? You don't have to be this jealous."

He reached up and gently smoothed my hair, the corner of his mouth lifting as he leaned in to kiss me.

Looking at the face I'd loved for eight years, all I could see was the image of him kissing Tessa, replaying over and over behind my eyes.

My stomach turned violently.

I stiffened and turned my head away.

"I'm not. I don't have the right to be jealous."

Eight years underground. That was what we'd been.

Nobody besides the two of us knew we were together.

Not even Myron, his closest friend, my own brother. Tristan had never once told him.

Every time we met felt like an affair.

I was sick of it. I'd tried again and again to go public.

What girl doesn't want her boyfriend to claim her in front of the whole world?

But every hope fell through, and all that accumulated was disappointment.

"Doreen!"

The smile drained from Tristan's face. "Are you avoiding me?"

"You've had too much to drink."

Just then, Tessa's voice carried over from nearby.

"Where's Tristan? I just saw him right here."

The instant he heard her voice, Tristan let go of my hand.

"Go back inside first."

Tessa had drunk too much. She was outside retching, crying out Tristan's name between heaves.

He glanced over, expression flat, and turned to walk away.

"Tristan, please don't leave me..."

Her sobbing voice stopped him in his tracks.

He exhaled softly. In the end, he caved. He stayed by her side, patting her back now and then.

"Let it out."

"You'll feel better once it's all up."

Then something seemed to occur to him. He scooped Tessa up and set her down on a nearby seat. "Wait here for me."

He jogged off and came back with a bottle in his hand.

"Here. Your favorite. Strawberry."

Tessa blinked, then broke into a teary smile.

"Eight years, and you still remember that I love strawberry."

So the one who loved strawberry had always been Tessa.

That was why he always bought strawberry cake.

Even the scented sachets tucked inside his closet were strawberry.

My eyes burned. I tore my gaze away and walked fast back toward the private room.

The party dragged on until one in the morning.

Tessa was slumped across the table, drunk, her fingers still clutching the hem of Tristan's jacket.

He didn't shake her off. Instead, he slipped his coat from his shoulders and draped it over hers.

And I, his actual girlfriend, sat in the corner watching him take care of another woman.