For the Ten Years I Wasted

I stumbled into the bathroom and repeatedly rinsed my face with cold water, but I still could not calm down.

My wedding would be held tomorrow. The invitations had been sent out, the hotel had been booked, and the wedding dress was hanging in the closet; everything was ready.

I trembled as I tried to call Josh's number. Once, twice, thrice... No one answered.

I stood there for a long time, stunned. Somehow, I called Vicky's number. It gave me the same busy tone; My heart almost sank right away.

I could not understand it. When they were having fun together without telling me, did they ever feel a shred of guilt toward me? Or were they just enjoying the thrill and excitement of the affair?

I knew Vicky was a travel blogger. She was used to filming wherever she went, and traces of her influence could be found on various platforms. I also knew that people who ran social media always had countless sub-accounts.

I searched the hotel name and looked through the attached IP. Finally, I found a photo in an account called The One Who Isn't Loved Is The Third Party.

In the photo, the man's long fingers were opening a bottle of champagne. The wristwatch he was wearing was the birthday gift I gave him last year. It was Josh.

The caption was just a short line. [Every second of these stolen moments is a countdown.]

There were already many comments below, some blessing true love, others questioning whether she was a homewrecker.

I clicked on her profile with trembling hands and found that this account was completely different from the previous couple's account. This account had hundreds of thousands of followers and was registered much earlier.

She recorded our story on this account. The first post was a sarcastic jab at me for being a manipulative woman.

[If I had known it was so easy to get the campus heartthrob, I would have gone for him too. My best friend actually got together with him.]

[And she didn't even tell me that she was on a date with him. Must she show me in my pajamas without makeup so that she will stand out? Unbelievable.]

Someone in the comments joked that we were just fake best friends, to which she replied with a sly grin.

Later, I caught a cold and had a fever. Josh came to take care of me, and she wrote: [Someone really has princess syndrome. Even with just a fever, she needs to be waited on hand and foot.]

[But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise; I had some time alone with him. She's quite good at creating opportunities for us.]

They were already secretly having an affair in a corner I could not see.

Vicky said: [We coincidentally added each other as friends using our sub-accounts. Does that mean we're on the same wavelength?]

A large amount of censored chat history was also shared with the initial post.

They talked about music, ideals, and everything Josh thought I would not understand. Vicky always knew what to say and was always there for me. Josh said chatting with her was always so easy.

On Valentine's Day, Vicky made chocolates and sent them to my office, but she refused to accept Josh's gift, saying she was afraid he would waste money. Josh was touched and said she was the most special girl.

They cautiously maintained their ambiguous relationship, always emphasizing that their updates were inspired by her best friend. Giving her gifts was to thank her for taking care of me; inviting her to dinner was to help me taste the food.

In her description of things, I became spoiled, willful, and immature.

They indulged in the pleasures of their immoral behavior under the cover of self-deception.