"Are you certain, Miss Henson? Changing the bride's name at this point—I've been doing weddings for years, and this is a first for me..."

"I'm certain."

I gave it without hesitation. "Everything else stays the same. Same schedule, same venue. Just change the bride's name to Polly Harding."

The line went quiet for a few seconds. Then she agreed.

I paused, and added one last instruction. "Don't tell either of them until the day of the wedding."

The next day I went into the office and handed in my resignation.

I'd barely stepped out of the office when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A message from Preston.

【I'm downstairs.】

I stared at the message for a long moment, then got up and went down.

Downstairs, Preston saw me and came over, holding out a paper bag.

He still carried the sour smell of last night's drinking.

It turned my stomach.

I didn't take the bag, but I knew exactly what was inside.

Ginger tea, an unopened box of ibuprofen, and two heat patches.

Almost every month, on this same day, he had these ready. Rain or shine.

But I knew. This wasn't for me.

Sure enough, Preston spoke. "Polly had too much to drink last night, and her period's due today, so she's bound to be uncomfortable. Bring it up to her for me, would you? You two sit near each other anyway. Saves me a special trip."

When I said nothing, he pulled a half-used strip of ibuprofen out of his pocket.

"Figured your period's coming up soon too. Left your painkillers in my car, so I brought them along while I was at it."

"Go on up. Polly's waiting."

I looked at the heavy paper bag in reach, and at that nearly empty strip of pills, and something in it struck me as absurd.

That strip of painkillers was one I'd bought myself last month, when the cramps got so bad I couldn't stand it.

At the time, Polly had been sipping the warm drink Preston brought her, enjoying the cramp-relief massage he'd learned specially for her.

And to me, his fiancee, doubled over and about to pass out, all he'd said was, "Drink more hot water."

Why hadn't I felt wronged back then?

Maybe it wasn't that I hadn't felt it.

I'd just gotten used to breaking every hurt into pieces and swallowing them down.

But this time, I really didn't want to swallow it.

I took a step back and looked at him, cold. "From now on, if you want to give her something, message Polly yourself."

"Nothing else, so I'm heading back up."

Preston stood there, thrown by how suddenly I'd gone cold.

By the time it registered, I'd already turned and gone up the stairs, without looking back.

By the time I got back to the office, the front desk had already sent the paper bag up.

Polly was at her desk opening it, and a few coworkers immediately crowded around, egging her on.

"Wow, from the boyfriend again? So thoughtful!"

"Right on time every month—Polly, you're so lucky!"

Polly's ears went red as she waved her hands in a fluster. "No, no, it's not from a boyfriend!"

She glanced over at me as she said it, and when I ignored her, she raised her voice a little. "Just a... a very good friend, that's all."

I didn't look up.

I kept working on the handover list on my computer.

But Polly leaned in. "Milly, want to hit a bar tonight after work?"

"In a few days you won't be single anymore. You've got to go a little wild before the wedding!"

I frowned and was about to say no when Polly just clapped her hands. "My treat tonight! Bachelorette party for our Milly! Sign up if you want in!"

The office lit up instantly, seven or eight coworkers raising their hands.

Clearly, I had no room left to refuse.

Once the list of who was coming was settled, Polly leaned in again, her voice going soft. "Milly, could you add my name to the new project?"

"I mean, I'm throwing you a bachelorette party and everything. I'm just one project short of qualifying for a promotion, and you're my best friend, so of course you'll help me, right?"

At that, my hands paused on the keyboard.

She did this every time these past few years. Nowhere to be found during the early stages, then coming to beg me to add her name right as it wrapped.

Every time before, I'd said yes, and she'd do nothing and still get made permanent, still get promoted.

But this time, I didn't feel like being generous.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at her, my face blank.

"There's only one open slot left on the project to add a name."

"You sure you want it?"

She laughed, carefree. "Sure! You really are the best!"

I nodded.

And typed Polly's name in right after the deputy lead position.

Polly didn't notice which one I'd picked; she'd already turned to chat with the coworkers.

Well, she agreed to it herself, so none of this is on me.

Once I was gone, the project wrap-up report would fall to this "deputy lead."

I just wondered how someone who'd never once set foot in the project team was going to give that report.

After work, a few coworkers and Polly dragged me into the car heading for the bar.

I hadn't been sitting there five minutes when Preston showed up.

He cut straight through the crowd toward Polly, brows drawn tight, and lifted the mojito off the table in front of her. "Are you crazy? Do you not know what day it is for you? And you're drinking?"

Polly reached to snatch it back. "Mind your own business! Give it here!"

"Give it back, nothing. Waiter, a glass of warm milk over here."

He held the glass up out of her reach, his other hand pressing her back down into her seat. His tone was all snap and scold, but the look in his eyes as he leaned over her was pure worry. "If you can't get out of bed tomorrow from the cramps, don't you dare call me crying."

The coworkers around us traded glances.

One of the girls asked the person beside her, low, "Is that Polly's boyfriend? He's so good-looking."

"No way... isn't that Milly's fiance?"

The air went quiet in an instant.

A few pairs of eyes bounced between Preston and me.

I looked down at the lemon water in my hand and thought, suddenly, how familiar this all was.

Over these years, at countless dinners, Preston peeling shrimp for Polly, ladling soup for her—people always took the two of them for a couple.

At first the two of them would explain. But after enough of that, they stopped bothering.

Preston's only comment on it: "Other people getting it wrong is their problem. As long as you know what we are to each other, that's all that matters."

Only then did Preston notice me.

He frowned, and there was a note of reproach in his voice. "Why didn't you stop her either? You know perfectly well she can't drink these two days, and you just let her act up."

The unfair blame put a nameless heat in my chest.

Polly, though, jumped in ahead of me. "Why are you snapping at her? I'm the one who insisted on coming!"

"Milly's about to marry you. What kind of attitude is that?"

Preston paused, and something faintly uncomfortable, something apologetic, crossed his face.

He sighed and reached out to put an arm around my shoulders. "Milly, I didn't mean it like that... I just get frantic when I'm worried. Don't take it to heart."

I turned my body aside.

His hand closed on nothing.

"Sit," I said. "You're here now."

Preston sat down beside me, but his eyes settled on Polly, plain and open.

My presence seemed to be a wall standing between them.

A wall keeping apart two truly loving "lovers."

Halfway through the party, a waiter leaned in toward Preston and Polly. "You two are a couple, right? We've got a promotion running these next few days—whoever holds the longest kiss in the room wins a custom-made pair of diamond rings. Want to join?"

Preston reflexively started to wave it off, then caught the flicker of hope on Polly's face.

After a long hesitation, he stood anyway, took Polly's hand, and led her to the center of the stage.

The lights drew in around them.

Polly rose up on her toes and kissed him.

Preston went stiff for a second.

Then he closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, deeper.

I sat in the booth, watching them.

The whispers and the stares of the people around me landed on me, but I no longer felt any of the earlier awkwardness, any of the ache.

I didn't even feel it hurt.

Probably it had hurt so many times that the place had gone numb.

Applause broke out.

They'd won.

The waiter smiled and handed over the box with the pair of rings. Polly let go of Preston's lips, her face a little flushed, and turned to trot over to me.

"Milly!" She dug out the man's ring and pushed it into my hand. "This one's for you! You're not angry, are you? I just wanted this pair of rings, there was nothing else to it..."

I glanced at the man's ring in my palm. The band was too wide; my finger couldn't hold it at all.

"It's too big, I can't wear it. Give it to someone it fits."

I handed the ring back.

Polly's eyes went instinctively to Preston.

She tossed the ring over to him. "Lucky you!"

Preston caught it, gave a short laugh, and came to sit down beside me. "My wife's always had an easy temper, always understanding—she wouldn't fuss over a little thing like this. Not like you, kicking up something every other minute."

I caught the smell of Preston's cologne, and it only turned my stomach.

I really didn't care.

After all, twenty years of friendship and a ten-year long-distance run of love—today, that too came to a complete end.

The party ended quickly. Preston went down to the parking garage to get the car and left Polly and me waiting by the door.

We had just reached the entrance when Polly patted her pockets. "My phone's gone. Milly, can you go look for it for me? I'll check around out here. Maybe it dropped somewhere along the way."

I nodded and turned back to the private room.

I searched the whole place and never found Polly's phone, so I went back to the bar entrance.

What I walked into was chaos.

Preston had a man by the collar, while two waiters held him back, one on each arm.

The man's mouth was bleeding. He spat, cursed under his breath, and walked off.

Polly cowered behind Preston, crying so hard her eyes were swollen.

The moment he saw me, Preston shook off the waiters, strode up to me, and grabbed my wrist. "Did you leave her here on purpose? Do you have any idea how dangerous that just was? If I hadn't heard the commotion and come running, she would have—"

I frowned. Blindsided by this baseless accusation, every bit of anger I'd swallowed all night came out at once.

"She said she left her phone in the room. I went back to help her find it. What does that have to do with me?"

Preston's face darkened. "Polly's had her phone in her hand the whole time. When did she ever leave it in the room?"

"Millicent, if you're going to lie, at least pick a better excuse."

I froze for a second.

And almost at once, everything clicked.

Polly staggered to her feet and pulled Preston back. "Why are you shouting at her? Who said you could shout at her?"

Then she turned to me, eyes brimming. "Milly didn't mean it, I'm sure! I'm the one who didn't stay close to her, that's why I got left alone—"

I looked at her.

For some reason, my chest ached.

Twenty years.

We'd known each other for twenty years.

And now she was using a cheap trick like this against me.

Twenty years of friendship, worth nothing now.

I gave a bitter little laugh and looked coldly at the two of them. "I already told you. She asked me to go back for her phone. Believe it or don't. I don't care anymore."

Preston frowned at me. "Millicent, I'm so disappointed in you."

"If you're jealous about what happened earlier, there's no need to hurt Polly over it."

"And to think she still calls you her best friend."

With that, he put his arm around Polly and walked toward the car.

I stayed where I was.

Watching the car speed off, all the hurt welled up anyway, and my eyes stung.

I took a deep breath and forced the tears back down.

Crying over those two really wasn't worth it.