Bachelor party

I stared intently at James, waiting for him to explain for me. But he didn't.

He was the one who insisted on picking me up himself to feel at ease. He was the one who said it was okay to sleep in after a night of drinking because she would get headaches.

Now, he just held Emily with one arm and twirled his drink with the other, looking as smug and sleazy as any unfaithful husband.

"Why did you leave without saying goodbye back then?" He suddenly turned to Emily, leaning so close that their lips were almost touched.

Emily was stunned, then forced a smile and replied, "I was too young and impulsive back then."

I suddenly remembered hearing Emily's story before.

It was during James' first startup. We were celebrating our first successful deal, and everyone got drunk.

During a game of truth or dare, a colleague asked James about his biggest regret.

He said, "I did not achieve something significant while she was still around. I was not able to make her stay."

Everyone teased him, asking if he meant Emily. He said yes.

Back then, I was just his assistant. Watching him tear up while answering deeply moved me. Now, that same sentiment makes me sick.

Emily glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. She had noticed me long ago. She lit a cigarette in the restroom and leaned against the corner, waiting for me. "You saw everything, right? Your boyfriend... No, your fiancé has always been thinking about me."

My heart couldn't help but sting, but I quickly steadied myself thanks to my years of experience at business dinners. "Why are you doing this?"

"To take back what's mine," Emily said. "Oh, by the way, the wedding is designed just how he and I envisioned it when we were together. When he cried, he was looking at me. When he expressed his gratitude, it was for me."

I remembered the red stain on James' collar during the rehearsal as I watched her lips move. It was the same shade as her lipstick.

She crushed out her cigarette and leaned close to my ear. "Let's make a bet. No matter how much you have suffered with him, or no matter how many things I have done to let him down, as long as I come back, there will be no place for you."

I said inwardly, "Fine, let's bet. Who says you'll win?"

I returned to the apartment alone in the early morning, torn about whether tomorrow's wedding was worth continuing. Could I really leave my parents to face this mess? Could I just accept that these six years were wasted?

I was lying in bed when my phone buzzed twice with a message from James: [Are you asleep? I'm already at the hotel.]

He had suggested staying at a hotel so I could rest well in the apartment. What once seemed considerate now made me question his true intentions.

I looked around the small apartment, recalling how, when James' startup failed and he couldn't afford rent, his original partners had scattered, leaving him with nowhere to go. I had helped him move into this apartment.

To protect his pride, I never mentioned that my parents had bought it. I told him it was rented and that I had him move in to help with rent. I covered the rent for the first few months, telling him to pay me back when he could.

This apartment had witnessed his confession, his proposal, and his promises. Now, it also witnessed his betrayal.