Jilted at the Altar, I Married His Best Friend

The lump in my throat hurt, and before the tears could fall, somehow I laughed.

"Felix Heath, I will never marry you."

I hung up, rolled down the window, slipped the ring off my finger, and threw it out.

The car pulled up at the entrance to my complex. The driver was a woman about my mother's age.

She looked at me and said gently,

"Sweetheart, you can't force a thing to cook right. I admire that you've got the guts to turn the page."

"The rest of your life—don't spend it just making do."

Something in me warmed, and I nodded hard.

I let myself in and turned on the lights, and there it was, the photo wall in the living room, every picture on its red backdrop.

From the first year to the seventh.

When I looked closely, I noticed how Felix had moved from cheek pressed against mine to an arm's length away.

This year's photo was supposed to be taken the day we got our marriage license. Now there was no chance for it, and no point.

I took every photo down and fed them into the shredder.

A few seconds later, all of it was confetti.

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and filled out a resignation form.

Minutes after I submitted it, my phone started buzzing.

I looked—it was Marcella Henson, my work buddy from HR.

I picked up, and her teasing voice came through.

"Bianca, didn't you go back to get engaged? Shouldn't you be in your soon-to-be fiancé's arms right about now?"

"Quitting this fast—don't tell me… don't tell me you're about to be a mom!"

"I'm not even ready to be a godmother yet!"

I let out a quiet laugh and said,

"You're getting ahead of yourself. The engagement's off. We broke up. Your godmother gig's going to have to wait a few years."

"What? What kind of garbage did he pull?"

I told her everything that had happened the day before, start to finish.

Marcella was grinding her teeth.

"I knew he was no good. At least you cut your losses in time!"

"You remember that day last month, the downpour? You went back to grab some files and got stuck at the office, and I came to get you."

"On my way home, I saw him outside his building, carrying some girl across the street on his back…"

My heart lurched, and my fingers shook a little.

"You're sure it was him?"

"I got it on video. I'll send it to you."

She was already sending it as she spoke.

Outside Felix's building, floodwater up over his shins, he carried Evelyn Simmons forward on his back.

She had her arms around his neck, her feet in their slip-on sandals swinging back and forth, laughing, having the time of her life.

I stared at the video and watched it over and over.

My chest went tight and heavy, and my heart slowly went numb.

That day I'd been stranded downstairs at the office. I'd tried for an hour to get a car, and no one would take the ride.

I'd called Felix. He said he was still on the road back from the next city over, sent me five thousand two hundred dollars, and told me to bump the fare and find a car.

By almost midnight, my pants soaked through, I'd had no choice but to trouble Marcella to come get me.

When I got home, my period had come early, the cramps boring through my lower belly.

Felix didn't get home until the middle of the night.

He hadn't even changed his clothes—he made me a warm bowl of oatmeal and filled a hot water bottle.

Back then I'd watched him moving around the kitchen and felt touched for a long time.

Now it just seemed absurd, almost funny.

"Bianca… Bianca…"

Marcella called my name carefully.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Marcella."

I hung up, packed my things, arranged for a pickup, then contacted the landlord to end the lease.

Early the next morning I rushed to the office to finish my offboarding.

I'd just stepped out of my manager's office when a story popped up on social media. It was Felix.

His car was parked outside the courthouse, Evelyn Simmons in the passenger seat, with a caption.

*Here with my fiancée, waiting to become this year's 1,314th couple to get our license.*

I checked the time. Posted thirty minutes ago.

We had a lot of mutual friends. A story with that much in it couldn't sit there without a single like or comment.

Which left only one explanation. Visible to me alone.

The corner of my mouth tugged up, and I booked a car to the airport.

When the flight attendant reminded everyone to switch to airplane mode, I opened that story.

And typed a line into the comments.

*Congratulations. Wishing you a long and happy marriage.*