Chapter 3

Vanessa stares at me, her smile faltering. "What's that supposed to mean?"

One of the bridesmaids jumps in before she can say more. "What — just because your husband cheats, you want everyone else to be miserable too?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. You actually nailed it."

Vanessa's chin lifts, a flicker of superiority in her eyes. "My Ryan isn't like your husband. He would never betray me."

"That so? Then where is this loyal, perfect man? I don't see him anywhere."

"Oh, he's picking up some college friends who flew in for the wedding. He'll be here any minute."

Right on cue, her phone rings. She answers, voice bright. "Babe! Where are you?"

The bridesmaids go quiet on instinct. His voice spills out of the speaker — "Almost there, baby. I keep thinking about how I'm finally gonna marry you and I can barely focus on the road."

Vanessa's cheeks flush. She bites back a grin. "Just drive safe, okay?"

The bridesmaids lose it. "Oh my God, did you hear that? Five years together, about to be husband and wife, and he's still this whipped?"

"Can you blame him? We only get to be together six months out of the year."

Something hits me in the back of the skull — a blunt, invisible blow. My ears start ringing.

Five years. They've been together for five years.

I don't know if I was too blind or if he hid it too well.

No — he didn't hide it well. I just trusted him too much.

I believed him when he said the company required rotational assignments. That he had to travel for work every other month. I thought he was ambitious. I thought I shouldn't hold him back.

So I carried everything alone. The baby, the cooking, my own job. Never once complained.

One night Noah spiked a fever. I sat in the ER holding him until dawn. I didn't call Ryan. I didn't want to disturb his rest.

All those months he was "on the road" — he was with her.

The bridesmaids are groaning now, clutching their chests in exaggerated jealousy. "Your man is unreal — hot, rich, doesn't smoke, clingy, and he talks sweet? Is there no justice in this world?"

"Seriously! Give us one flaw. Just one. Let us feel better about our lives!"

Vanessa laughs as they shake her shoulders, pretending to think it over. "A flaw? Hmm… I guess he makes me drink bone broth every single day. Says it's good for my health."

"Gets up early and makes it himself. Every morning. Never misses."

The group erupts in groans, and the hit lands square in my chest.

Every morning. Ryan has never made me breakfast. Not once in six years.

When I was pregnant with Noah — belly so big I could barely bend over — he said he'd handle mornings. He burned batch after batch of oatmeal. No matter how many times I walked him through it, he couldn't get it right. I always assumed he was just hopeless in the kitchen.

Turns out it wasn't a skill problem. It was a motivation problem.

I stand there, feeling my heart go cold inch by inch.

The bridesmaids won't let up — they insist she's showing off, demand a real flaw. No more humble-bragging.

Vanessa bites her lip. Her expression shifts — suddenly serious.

"There is one thing. But promise me — never bring it up in front of him."

"Ryan was married before."

"His ex-wife and their son — they were in a car accident a couple years ago. Didn't make it. It destroyed him. He still can't talk about it."