Inside, beneath layers of soft fabric, was a wedding invitation. Mark and Sarah. Their names printed in gold, clean and polished, as if nothing messy or painful had ever existed between us. For a moment, I just stared at it, my chest tightening in a way I thought I had already learned to manage.
Then I saw the dress.
It was a deep, vivid red—almost too bold to look at directly. Silk, smooth and deliberate, with a sweetheart neckline designed not to blend in, but to be seen. It was the kind of dress that made a statement the moment you walked into a room.
My phone was already in my hand before I fully processed what I was doing.
Elena answered immediately.
“Did you get it?” she asked, her voice quick, almost urgent.
“Elena… what is this?” I said, trying to keep my tone steady. “You want me to show up to his wedding wearing that?”
There was no hesitation on her end.
“Yes,” she said. “Wear it. Please. Just trust me.”
I let out a breath that didn’t feel like relief. “That’s not a small thing to ask. You know how this looks. People will twist it. They’ll turn me into the story.”
There was a pause, and when she spoke again, her voice had changed.
“I can’t explain over the phone,” she said quietly. “I need you there. Where she can’t rewrite what she did.”
The words settled heavily.
“What did she do?” I asked, my stomach tightening.
Another pause.
“You’ll understand when you see it,” Elena said. “I just… I can’t let her take this too.”
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