"I pick dare. Hugh, can I kiss you?"

***

Everyone went wild—cheering, laughing, whistling.

I glanced over and froze. Mia was kissing Hugh.

And him? Not even blinking. His eyes were locked on her, all soft and dreamy.

My chest tightened, and before I knew it, tears slipped down my face.

That was when it hit me—he really liked her.

I was just his guilt trip with a pulse.

Not this time.

I wasn't wasting another fifteen years being dead weight.

Starting now, I'd let him go. Let them have each other.

My stomach twisted hard. The booze came roaring back up, burning my throat. I shot up and staggered into the bathroom, gripping the cold sink as I dry heaved, shaking.

The door creaked.

Entered Mia—mask off, smirk on.

"Wenna Wade," she drawled, "how long you planning to haunt Hugh like some sad little ghost?"

I blinked at her, eyes swimming. Couldn't even get a word out.

"Hugh's a rising star. Diplomat. Future glowing and all that. He needs someone polished, someone like me—who knows how to work a room and not embarrass him."

Her eyes narrowed. "You? You're a walking disaster. What do you even bring to the table?"

She leaned in, voice dropping.

"And FYI, his parents can't stand you either. They've already okayed me—his foster sister, by the way. So do us all a favor: walk out before this gets ugly."

My face went cold.

Last time around, I thought it was just Hugh and Bowie who hated me.

Guess I'd missed the family fan club.

Mia caught my freeze and laughed. "Oops, forgot—you're a retard. Did you even GET what I said?"

The words cut deep. I shoved her back, ready to leave, but she grabbed my wrist.

"Where do you think you're going, genius? Off to snitch? Don't bother—he's mine. You're out, whether you like it or not."

Then, out of nowhere, she snatched a bottle, smashed it against her own head, and crumpled.

Blood trickled down her face.

I just froze.

She peeked up, grinning through the fake pain, then screamed, "Hugh! Help! Wenna tried to kill me!"

He burst in, eyes wide. One look at the blood and his face went dark.

"What happened?"

He scooped her up, all hero mode.

Mia trembled against him. "You said Wenna wasn't feeling well, so I came to check on her. I told her she could go home if she was sick—and she smashed a bottle over my head!"

I shook my head so fast it hurt. "No! She did it herself!"

He didn't even blink. Just stared at me like I'd kicked his puppy.

"Wenna, really? Every time there's another girl near me, you lose it. Are you having another episode?"

That tone—cold, disgusted—hurt worse than any slap.

Just like that, I was back in middle school—

Hugh crushing on the class beauty.

The same girl who bet she could get him to fall for her, just to mess with another guy.

I was terrified she'd wreck him.

So yeah... I brought a knife. Thought I could scare her off.

I never meant to hurt her.

She threw the first slap, spat the insults too. Then—bam—a tiny scratch on her face, and suddenly I was the monster.

Psych ward.

Labeled the campus freak. The crazy girl no one dared sit next to.

Hugh visited once. Same look he was giving me now—disgust, fear, like I was contagious.

I remembered trying to explain, hands shaking, voice cracking. Didn't matter.

It took months of meds and therapy just to feel half normal again.

I thought he'd forgiven me.

Thought he saw me.

But nah.

To him, I was always that broken, reckless girl. Just one misstep away from ruining everything.

The words stuck in my throat, bitter and heavy.

'Guess what, Hugh? I don't like you anymore.'

***

He threw me back in the psych ward.

Told the doctors, "Up her treatment. The wedding's in a month—no screw-ups."

So yeah—they strapped me down, hit me with shocks till I could barely breathe.

And the sick joke? I hadn't even touched Mia.

He never showed. But there he was on TV, smiling next to her like some power-couple poster boy.

Me? I got fried daily. Each jolt clearing the fog a little more.

And with every hit, I knew—I was getting out.

***

Wedding day. Finally.

The Zellers' people came early, dragging me from the ward.

Scars down my arms, burns on my neck—nothing to hide behind.

Hugh's eyes landed on me, and his whole vibe shifted. His jaw clenched, eyes almost soft.

He grabbed a first-aid kit, gently dabbing at my skin. "What happened? Does it hurt? Why didn't you call me?"

Yeah, maybe because your nurse shattered my phone. I stayed silent.

He took it as anger. Of course he did. "I've been swamped, I know. But after the wedding, it'll be different. You saved my life—I owe you. I'll take care of you. But you've gotta stop acting out. No more hurting Mia, okay?"

I said nothing.

He sighed, classic Hugh move, and gave me a head pat like I was five. "I'm off to greet the guests. Be good—listen to the stylist, get your hair done, dress up pretty. After the ceremony, I'll get you cake. No more tantrums, yeah?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Someone called his name, and he was gone.

I stared after him. Then, quiet and steady, I said,

"Hugh, I'm never eating your cake again."

***

By noon, the wedding kicked off.

Hugh stood on stage gripping a huge bouquet of red roses. He wasn't exactly thrilled, but now that it was happening, nerves hit anyway.

He caught himself wondering what the girl he'd babysat—sorry, "cared for"—all these years would look like in a wedding dress. Probably stunning, right?

Then the doors opened. The bride walked in—white dress, perfect smile, all eyes on her.

Hugh smiled back—until she got close.

His grin dropped. Voice low and pissed, he snapped, "Why is it you? Where's Wenna?!"