BRIAN'S POV

“Roselyn?”

I knelt there, frozen, watching the light die behind Sarah’s eyes.

One second she was glowing, looking at me with an expression I’d spent fifteen years dreaming about, and the next, she went completely blank. It was like watching a fire get doused with ice water.

“Yeah, Roselyn!” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I scrambled to my feet, trying to ignore the way my chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vice.

“Why do you look so grumpy? You should be happy for me!” I shrugged.

"You’re acting like I’m delivering bad news or something.”

I stepped closer, squinting at her, trying to read her expression and my heart raced seeing her eyes shimmering.

“Wait... why does it seem like you’re about to cry?" I asked before I could stop myself, praying and wishing she was actually about to cry because I called out another girl's name…then I would yell out, ‘it's you fatso. It has always been you.’

“Did you actually think I was proposing to you or something, fatso?”

I let out a loud, hysterical laugh, the kind that sounds like glass breaking…I had to. If I didn’t laugh, I was going to scream.

Sarah growled, a sharp, jagged sound, shooting me a glare like she always does.

“In your dreams, Brian! Why would I ever fall for a hopeless soul like you? Honestly, I feel terrible for Roselyn. No one deserves to end up with a mess like you.”

My laughter died instantly. The words stung, but not because they were mean…I was used to our banter. It was the realization that she really didn't love me.

I had been so terrified, so shy, that when I finally went down on that knee, the name of our third friend—the girl I knew had a crush on me—just tumbled out of my mouth like a curse.

I’d rehearsed with Marcus for weeks on how to propose to her…to my Sarah. It’s always been Sarah, but in the heat of the moment, I’d blinked, panicked, and blurted out Roselyn.

“Do you really think that?” I asked, my voice small, trying to hide the ache behind it with a smile.

“Of course I think that!” she yelled.

“You’re sure you don’t have feelings for me?” I tried to play it off with a smirk, nudging her, but I knew I failed terribly at it this time.

She stared at me sternly and before I could say any other thing, she shoved me backward with enough force to send me stumbling.

“Get out, Brian! I need to bathe. Just get out!”

She practically wrestled me to the door, slamming it so hard the frame rattled. I stood in the hallway and let my head thud against the wood. My heart wasn’t just aching; it was shattering.

I crumbled to the floor right there in the hallway, hot tears finally spilling over. I was an idiot. A coward.

I just needed to do one thing, and that was to ask her out but my fears were right…she really didn't love me, if she did…she would have thrown a tantrum.

For once, he wanted her to yell at him and tell him he betrayed their promise that she loved him like he does, but it was probably never happening anytime soon.

“Brian? Sarah? Come down!” The voice of Sarah’s mom drifted up the stairs. I wiped my eyes frantically, taking a deep breath to steady my lung

I had to put the mask back on. I had to be the ‘bright, happy Brian’ everyone expected.

I walked downstairs, forcing a grin. Sarah’s mom—who I’d called Mom since my own passed away—was balancing a heavy tray.

“Here, let me get that!” I rushed over, grabbing it from her.

“Slow down, you whirlwind!” she laughed, smacking my arm lightly.

“Hey, if I don’t help, who will? You don’t have a son, and we both know Sarah is useless in the kitchen,” I joked.

She giggled and swiped at my head. “Speaking of, where is she?”

“The fatso just got out of the shower,” I mumbled. “She’s probably upstairs stuffing her face with makeup so she looks human.”

Smack!

Something landed hard on the back of my head, jarring me forward. I winced and spun around to see Sarah standing on the stairs, glaring daggers at me. She looked so angry, like she could eat me up and suddenly she rushed down the stairs.

Without thinking, I immediately bolted, diving behind Mom for protection.

“I’m going to kill you!” She hissed, chasing me around the dining table as I tried to dodge her punches.

“Stop it, both of you!” Mom yelled, though not from irritation, she was smiling. It's no drill she'd gotten used to this. “Sit down and eat.”

We obeyed, grumbling and kicking each other under the table.

This house was my only real home. Ever since my mom died and my dad disappeared into his drinking habits, this dining table…this house was my sanctuary.

I watched mom bring out a small cake out of the dining fridge, she inserted some candles and slowly lit it. “Make a wish, both of you. Thirty is a big one.” She beamed at us and I felt my heart flutter.

My gaze shifted to Sarah, she had her eyes closed, her hands clasped and I didn't need to be told, she was making a wish. She looked so peaceful.

I closed mine and prayed with every fiber of my being, making my wish;

‘Please, no matter what hurdles I have to jump, let Sarah fall for me. Let me be the one who marries her…I want her to be my bride at the altar'

Slowly I opened my eyes to see Sarah staring at me, and we both blew out the candles as mom clapped her hands.

“What’d you wish for?” I nudged her.

“For our family to stay together,” she said softly. “And for my company’s new project to flourish.” I didn't know why but my heart sank.

She poked my ribs. “You?”

“Can’t tell. It won’t come true if I do,” I teased, sticking my tongue out at her.

“Liar! You tricked me into telling mine! Motherfucking Loser!” Before I could react, she grabbed a handful of frosting and smeared it across my cheek.

I felt the cold smear and I felt my own anger rising as I glared at her.

“Oh, it’s on!” I lunged for the cake, and within seconds, we were in a full-blown food war, laughing like we were ten years old again—until Sarah’s dad walked in.

“What is going on in here?” he boomed angrily and we both froze mid way. Before Sarah could, I immediately scrambled behind him.

“Sarah’s bullying me again, Pop!” Sarah shot me another glare but I only stuck out my tongue at her in victory.

Pop let out a groan as he reached back, grabbed me by the ear, and pulled me out.

“You two aren’t kids. People your age are parents by now! When I was thirty, Sarah was already five years old.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting married yet, Dad. But don’t worry, you can celebrate for Brian…he’s getting engaged soon.”

My heart stopped. No. No, no, no.

The room went dead silent for a second and I wished it would stay that way but Mom’s eyes were already lit up like Christmas trees.

“Engaged? Brian! Who is the lucky girl?”

I gave a weak, awkward smile, praying the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

“It’s Roselyn,” Sarah said, her voice flat.

“The poor, cursed soul now has to spend the rest of her life with him…that is if she ever says yes”

“Sarah! Speak nicely,” Mom scolded, but dad was already beaming at me.

I opened my mouth to scream that it was a mistake—that I didn’t love Roselyn, that she was just a name I said because I was scared. But before I could find the words, a voice tore through the room from the front door.

“You... you want to propose to me?”

I spun around. Standing in the doorway were Marcus and Roselyn. Roselyn was looking at me with wide, tearful eyes, clutching her chest.

My heart didn't just drop—it died.

CHAPTER THREE

SARAH'S POV

“Oops! Looks like I ruined the big surprise!”

The words felt like shards of glass cutting their way out of my throat. I stood there, paralyzed, watching Brian. He looked stunned, his feet rooted to the floor as if the weight of the moment had finally crushed him.

For one beautiful, agonizing second, I let myself believe the look on his face was regret. I imagined him turning to me, grabbing my hands, and telling everyone it was all a cosmic mistake. But then I saw the sweat on his brow, the frantic twitch in his eyes, It wasn't regret, It was the raw, paralyzing anxiety of a man about to leap into a future he had chosen. Just not with me.

I forced my leaden legs to move as I walked up to him and smacked his shoulder with a hollow, booming laugh that echoed the emptiness in my chest. I hugged his side, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt one last time.

"You can do it!" I chirped, my voice sounding like a broken flute. "Don't be such a wimp, Brian. You’ve got this!"

He looked down at me, his gaze flickering with confusion or maybe sadness. "I... Sarah, I..."

Our eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world went silent. I had never seen him so vulnerable, so utterly terrified and it hurt to realize that I wasn’t the one providing him comfort—I was the one pushing him into the arms of another woman.

Every instinct I had screamed at me to grab him and run, to remind him of the cracked pavement and the pinky promise, Instead, I shoved him. I shoved him away from me and toward Roselyn.

"He can do it! Come on, everyone!" I yelled, my lungs burning. "Chant for him! Make him do it!"

My parents started cheering, their faces glowing with joy. Only Marcus stood still, his eyes darting between Brian, Roselyn, and me with a frown that said he saw right through my theater. I rushed to him, grabbing his arm.

"What are you doing? Chant, Marcus! Join in!"

The room became a deafening roar of encouragement. Roselyn was radiant, her face a map of pure, unadulterated hope. Brian looked at the circle of faces, took a ragged breath, and slowly sank to one knee and the velvet box snapped open.

"I... I never knew a day like this would come," he whispered, his voice thick.

"Where I’d have to face my fears like this. To finally ask." He swallowed hard.

"Roselyn... will you marry me?"

"Say yes! Say yes!" I screamed as I clapped until my palms stung, shouting louder than anyone else to drown out the sound of my soul cracking in half.

‘Please say no’, my heart wailed.

‘Please, for the love of God, say no.’

"Yes, Brian! Yes!" Roselyn cried out.

Brian let out a shaky, hysterical chuckle.

"Really? You say yes?" He sounded like a man who had just been handed a miracle but wanted to reaffirm. Roselyn chuckled as he slid the ring onto her finger, and as he stood, she threw herself into his arms.

He caught her, his hands firm on her waist, and spun her around. He kissed her hair, a gesture so tender it made me want to claw my own eyes out. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes already from immense pain.

Suddenly, a pop of a wine cork punctuated the air, my gaze moved to the sound and saw it was dad popping some champagne to celebrate the moment.

I turned my back, the first sob catching in my throat like a stone. I swiped at my eyes before the tears could fall, spinning back around with a mask of pure sunshine and I almost jolted backwards. Brian was suddenly there, blocking my path.

"Are you crying?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious.

"Tears of joy, you big dummy!" I laughed, the sound jarring and fake. "I'm just so happy someone finally agreed to take a disaster like you off the streets." I slung an arm around his neck, forcing a playful grin.

"You’ve gotta get serious now, Brian. You’re going to be a husband and a father one day." I drawled.

"Husband…Father?" He blinked, looking genuinely lost.

"Duh! Or are you just one of those guys who uses a ring to see what's under a girl's skirt?" He seethed, feeding my anger—my heartache— through my words.

The playfulness vanished from his face instantly. He reached up, firmly removing my arm from his shoulder.

"I'm not that guy, Sarah. I'm going to marry her. In fact, I want to do it in a month. I love Roselyn so much I can't wait a second longer to call her my wife."

The air left my lungs. A month. Fifteen years of waiting, and he was going to erase our future in thirty days.

"Good," I growled, my jaw tight. "That's better." I snarled at his face pushing him backwards slightly.

"Stop bickering! Can you two stop being sr each other's neck everytime?" Mom stepped in, sensing the tension.

“Sarah, you have to treat him with respect now. He's a groom."

Brian stuck his tongue out at me, hiding behind Mom’s shoulder. "Hear that? Respect me."

"In your dreams, loser," I snapped.

Mom sighed as she turned to him, worried. "A month is too fast, Brian, you might want to rethink that."

"It's perfect!" Brian insisted, rushing back to Roselyn and pulling her flush against his side.

"You don't mind, right Rosie?" He asked sweetly and she beamed and shook her head.

"See? It's fine. As long as I have you mom and Pop, and Marcus as my best man..." He turned to me, his eyes hard and challenging. "And my bridesmaid, Sarah, everything will be fine. Right, Sarah?"

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Bridesmaid…it sounded odd to my ear. It sounded pathetic.

I nodded, my neck feeling like it was made of rusted iron. "Right.”

"You see, I told you…I've got all the money to fund, so why can't I?” He boasted.

He was right, we were both filthy rich, besides our family's wealth, so money wasn't an issue.

"Look, I have to go to…the office." They all turned to me, giving me an awkward look as everywhere went silent.

"Really now Sarah, I just proposed and you're already running away" Brian growled.

"Sorry,I've got an urgent project to finish” I mumbled, feeling my throat tighten even more. If I stayed another second, I'd break into a million pieces, right here.

"Emm…don't miss me too much!"

I didn't wait for an answer before bolting for the stairs, my vision blurring into a smear of colors.

I made it into my room and slammed the door, locking it with a trembling hand as I collapsed onto the floor, the first real sob breaking out of me with such force I thought I might be sick.

I curled into a ball, my forehead pressed against the cold wood, crying until my breath came in ragged, painful hiccups.

I crawled toward my nightstand and grabbed the framed photo of us from our 25th birthday. We were laughing, his arm draped over me like he'd never let go. I clutched the glass to my chest, the sharp edges digging into my skin.

I sniffed hard, wiping my tears off as I placed the picture down. It was all over but why does it hurt so much.

I stood up, walking to my desk and pulled the drawer open. I pulled out my diary, sinking into the bed as I swiped the pages, the ink smudging as my tears hit the page.

Dear Diary,

I hit thirty today. I should be celebrating, but I feel like I'm attending my own funeral. The promise is dead. Brian didn't just break it; he stomped on the ashes. He’s getting married in a month, and the girl at the altar won't be me. It was never going to be me. I’ve spent fifteen years loving a ghost, and today, the ghost finally left.”