Replaced? No, I Moved On

On day ten of our cold war, Barry posted a pic—him and Lyla, locked in a kiss. His 'one true love.'

I sent in my study abroad application without a word.

At our grad party, he strolled in with Lyla, fingers laced with hers, looking at her with all his affection.

A friend hesitated. "But what about Amelia? She loves you. You guys are getting married."

Barry smirked. "She was just a stand-in. Now that Lyla's back, my fiancée should change too."

So I slipped off the ring, handed it over, and disappeared.

And he lost it. Tore through everything trying to find me.

Years later, he finally did. Saw me with my husband, picking out baby supplies. His eyes went red.

"Amelia, come back with me. Please?"

Day ten of my cold war with Barry Saun also happened to be our third dating anniversary.

Then I saw it—his new post. Him and Lyla Bianca, tangled in a kiss, his eyes full of devotion.

And just like that, the weight on my chest lifted.

I quietly submitted my study abroad application.

[Submission Successful.]

My stomach twisted, emotions all over the place.

Right then, my friend showed up with my custom cake. She pressed a hand to my forehead, relieved my fever was gone—until she spotted my application. Her eyes went wide.

"Barry finally agreed to go with you? I told you—he loves you! You guys are getting married?"

I shook my head.

Meeting her startled gaze, I calmly replied, "I only submitted my own. I'm going alone."

She froze, staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

Couldn't blame her. For three years, my whole world revolved around Barry. If he didn't want to do something, I wouldn't even consider it.

My gaze dropped to the cake in her hands. After a beat, I took it.

Barry and I needed closure.

As I grabbed my coat, my friend sighed. "Wear something warmer. You just got over a cold—don't make yourself sick again."

I smiled and nodded, pulling my coat tighter before heading to his dorm.

Halfway there, a little boy ran past, giggling—then bam, straight into me.

I stumbled. The cake flew from my hands, hit the ground, and the lid popped open.

The kid froze, pulled a goofy face, then bolted into the crowd.

I stared at the mess, a lump rising in my throat.

Almost without thinking, I reached for my phone to call Barry.

But then—I saw him.

And he wasn't alone.

A girl in a flowing white dress stood beside him. She looked a little like me, but softer, more delicate.

Lyla.

She held an ice cream cone, cheeks flushed as Barry leaned in, whispering something. She dipped her head shyly.

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then he kissed her forehead.

Everything around me blurred.

They melted into the crowd, but the sharp sting in my chest stayed.

A tear slid down, landing on the ruined cake.

People glanced my way as I crouched down, hands shaking, trying to scoop the broken pieces back into the box.

Someone finally spoke. "Miss, that cake's trashed. If you really like it, just buy another one."