I barely made it to the restroom before my stomach revolted. The champagne, the humiliation, the weight of twenty years of unrequited love—it all came rushing up, and I couldn't stop it.

I gripped the porcelain, my knuckles white as I emptied what little was in my stomach. The cold tile floor pressed against my knees, a stark contrast to the burning in my throat.

"Ugh, is someone sick in here?" A woman's voice drifted through the door, followed by the click of heels on tile.

I flushed quickly and tried to compose myself, but my reflection in the mirror told a different story. Mascara streaked down my cheeks, and my lipstick was smeared. I looked exactly like what I was—a woman falling apart.

I slid into the nearest stall, locking the door behind me. I just needed a moment to pull myself together, to find some shred of dignity to carry me through the rest of this nightmare.

"Well, it's definitely the tomboy," another voice said, followed by laughter. "God, she's been following Killian around for years. You'd think she'd get the hint."

I pressed my forehead against the cool metal partition, willing myself to disappear.

"It's pathetic how she still thinks she has a chance," a third voice chimed in. "Did you see her face when he made her toast to Chloe? Like a puppy waiting for scraps."

Their laughter echoed off the bathroom walls, each word cutting deeper than the last. I closed my eyes, trying to block them out, but it was no use.

"Maybe she should just accept her role as the permanent sidekick," the first voice said. "Some people are just meant to be extras in other people's stories."

I stayed in that stall long after they left, my hands clenched into fists, fighting back fresh tears.

---

My phone rang at 7 AM the next morning. Killian's name flashed on the screen, and despite everything, my heart skipped a beat.

"Riley! Thank God you picked up," his voice was bright, enthusiastic. Too enthusiastic.

"Killian," I managed, my voice still rough from crying. "It's early."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I need your help with something important." He paused, and I could practically hear the smile in his voice. "I want to plan something special for Chloe."

I sat up in bed, running my fingers through tangled hair. "What kind of special something?"

"A romantic surprise. Dinner, maybe, or a weekend getaway." He sounded like a kid on Christmas morning. "We've lost so much time, you know? Ten years is a long time to be apart."

Ten years. While he'd been pining for her, I'd been right there beside him. But I hadn't been "apart" from him. I'd been forgotten.

"I need to make up for all that lost time," he continued, oblivious to my silence. "Show her how much she means to me."

"Killian—" I started, but he cut me off.

"You're the best, Riley. You always know exactly what to do in these situations." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know women better than I do."

No, I didn't. I only knew myself, and I was beginning to realize I didn't even know that very well anymore.

"Please?" he added. "This is really important to me."

---

Two hours later, we stood in the middle of Tiffany & Co., surrounded by glittering display cases. Killian's eyes darted from one necklace to another, his expression intense with concentration.

"What do you think of this one?" He pointed to a delicate platinum chain with a teardrop diamond pendant.

The saleswoman smiled. "That's one of our most popular pieces. Simple but elegant."

I nodded, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. "It's beautiful."

"Or maybe this one?" Killian moved to the next case, pointing to a more elaborate design with multiple diamonds cascading down the chain.

"That's stunning," the saleswoman agreed. "More dramatic, perhaps for a special occasion?"

Killian's eyes lit up. "Perfect. Chloe loves dramatic."

I watched him carefully examine each piece, his face animated as he imagined Chloe wearing his gift. The saleswoman glanced between us, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Is this for your girlfriend's sister?" she asked me, clearly mistaking my role in this scenario.

I felt Killian's eyes snap to mine, waiting for my response. The words stuck in my throat.

"Just a friend," I finally managed, the lie burning my tongue.

The saleswoman nodded sympathetically. "Well, your friend has excellent taste."

Killian beamed, oblivious to the double meaning in her words. He turned back to the display case, already moving on to the next potential gift for the woman who had replaced me in the space of a week.

I stood beside him, invisible as always, watching him select the perfect symbol of his love for someone else.

The mahogany doors of the Meridian Hotel's private dining room felt heavier than usual as I pushed them open. Another business dinner, another evening of pretending everything was fine.

"Riley!" James Patterson, one of Killian's senior partners, waved me over. "We saved you a seat."

I forced a smile as I approached the table. "Thanks. Killian sends his apologies. Last-minute emergency."

"Of course he does," James chuckled, pulling out my chair. "At least we can count on you to show up."

The joke landed with a hollow thud in my chest. I was always the reliable one, the constant presence in Killian's unpredictable schedule.

"Where is he tonight?" someone asked.

"The usual," I replied, my voice steady despite the ache building behind my ribs. "Last-minute client meeting."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Killian wasn't with any client. He was with Chloe, probably sharing dessert at that little French bistro downtown—the one he'd mentioned wanting to try with her.

I excused myself to use the restroom, needing a moment away from the curious glances and pitying smiles. As I rounded the corner, I heard voices from the hotel bar.

"It's really sad how Armstrong still follows Brooks around like a lost puppy," a female voice said, followed by the clink of glasses.

I froze, pressing myself against the wall.

"I know," another voice agreed. "Someone should tell her he's never going to see her that way."

"Can you imagine? Twenty years of pining after a guy who sees you as nothing but his loyal sidekick?"

Their laughter drifted down the hallway, sharp and cutting. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to confront them—or worse, to cry.

Instead, I straightened my spine and walked into the bar, head held high. "Excuse me," I said, my voice cool and professional. "I believe our table is ready for the main course."

---

"Another wine tasting?" I stared at the invitation in my hand, trying to keep my expression neutral.

Chloe smiled brightly from across Killian's living room. "Yes! I've discovered this amazing vineyard in Napa. We're doing a private tasting this Saturday."

This Saturday. My birthday.

"Sounds lovely," I managed, even as my stomach twisted painfully. "I'm not sure if I'm free, though."

"Oh, it's just a small group," Chloe continued, her eyes never quite meeting mine. "Very intimate. Just Killian and me, Marcus and his wife, and a few close friends."

Just the people who mattered. The people who weren't me.

"Riley always has something going on," Killian added, not bothering to look up from his phone. "She's probably already made plans."

I clenched my jaw. "Actually, I haven't. But I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time."

"We will," Chloe said, her smile widening. "And it's perfect timing—the vineyard has this special dessert wine that would be perfect for... well, for celebrations."

Killian finally looked up, confusion crossing his face. "Celebrations?"

"It's nothing," I said quickly, before Chloe could respond. "Just a random Saturday."

His brow furrowed for a moment, then cleared as his phone buzzed with another notification. Whatever it was—probably a message from Chloe—made him smile in that special way that used to be reserved for me.

---

"Another antacid?" Elena, the receptionist at Killian's office, handed me the familiar pink bottle.

I nodded gratefully, shaking two tablets into my palm. "Thanks."

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" she asked quietly.

I swallowed the tablets, wincing as they dissolved on my tongue. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," she insisted. "You're skipping meals again."

I couldn't deny it. Every business dinner I attended for Killian meant another evening of watching him text Chloe under the table, another night of forcing food past the knot in my stomach.

"I'm just busy," I said weakly.

"Busy covering for someone who doesn't even notice," Elena muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

I couldn't argue with that. My stomach cramped painfully, a reminder of last night's dinner at Le Ciel, where I'd picked at my food while Killian had canceled yet again to take Chloe to the theater.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," Elena suggested.

I shook my head. "I'll be fine. Just need to manage my stress better."

But as I walked back to my desk, my phone buzzed with another message from Killian: *Need you to cover for me tomorrow night. Big client meeting. Thanks, Riles.*

I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the reply button. For a moment, I imagined saying no—imagined what it would feel like to put myself first, just once.

Instead, I typed back: *Of course. No problem.*

The pain in my stomach intensified, but I ignored it. After all, what was a little discomfort compared to the satisfaction of being needed?

Even if it was only as a substitute for the person he really wanted to be with.