“Brandy slipped the sleeping pills into that glass of milk himself. Of course she slept like a log.”

The screen was flooded with comments mocking me as a pathetic loser, but Brandon just stroked Lynette’s hair indulgently.

“Got it out of your system? Better turn off the stream now. If she wakes up and throws a fit, tomorrow’s wedding will be ruined.”

After they left, Brandon sat down on the edge of the bed and tucked the covers around me.

“Lyn is depressed. She can’t handle stress. Just let her go for now.

“I already had a backup dress flown in tonight on a private jet. That one suits you better anyway.”

I clenched the sheets tightly and sent a text to Terrence Herring, a suitor of mine.

“I’m not going through with this wedding. Does what you said still stand?”

***

“Don’t make a big deal out of this. I’ll marry no one but you, I swear.”

Brandon’s deep voice echoed through the bedroom.

He patted my shoulder through the covers, trying to calm me down.

I kept my eyes closed and steadied my breathing, avoiding letting my emotions show.

The sound of footsteps faded away.

With a soft click of the bedroom door, the room fell completely silent.

I opened my eyes and looked past the edge of the bed at the pile of rags on the floor.

I’d spent two years refining that haute couture dress, flying to Paris to finalize every detail, and it carried all my hopes for our ten-year relationship.

Now, those rags lay trampled on the carpet.

I threw back the covers and got out of bed, my bare feet touching the floor.

I walked to the nightstand, where a glass sat with a faint milk stain at the bottom.

Two hours earlier, Brandon had handed me that very glass and watched me drink it all.

“Kimmy, you’ve been working so hard prepping for the wedding. Drink this and get some sleep so you can be the most beautiful bride tomorrow.”

The affection in his voice back then made the lingering liquid at the bottom of the glass now seem all the more ironic.

I didn’t cry. My eyes didn’t even water. I just felt sick to my stomach.

He’d gotten that prescription himself from a doctor to help with my pre-wedding insomnia.

Yet he took my unconscious state as a chance to excuse every outburst from his childhood sweetheart, who supposedly suffered from severe depression.

He knew perfectly well how much Lynette hated me, but he’d still let her walk into the master bedroom and shred my wedding dress.

I squatted down and gathered the rags into a pile.

Without a second thought, I dumped them into the trash can in the corner.

When I was done, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and opened my WhatsApp contacts.

As I scrolled further down, my finger came to a stop on a contact with a black profile picture, which had been blocked for three years.

The contact name showed just one word: Terrence.

Three years ago, Brandon had exhausted himself preparing our engagement party and ended up in the ICU with a stomach ulcer.

That day, I’d cried my eyes out outside his ward.

It was also when I’d blocked Terrence, the man who’d loved me for years and was willing to give up his family legacy for me.

At the time, I’d thought, if Brandon cared enough to push himself that far for me, how could I ever let him down?

Now it all seemed like a ridiculous joke. I stared at that profile picture for a long time.

Suddenly, I heard teasing voices from outside the door.

“Brandy, you were so harsh earlier. How can you yell at me over an outsider?” Lynette’s voice drifted through the crack in the door.

“Enough, Lyn. I’ll let you get away with ruining a dress, but don’t push Kimmy. Only she gets to be my wife.”

“What if I want to cause trouble tomorrow too?”

“I’ve told you, she’s my bride. Pull a stunt like this again, and I won’t let you off so easily, even though we’re friends.”

“Ugh, I just can’t stand how she’s always so calm and perfect. She stole you away from me.”

A sneer tugged at my lips. Today, I finally saw Brandon’s true colors.

His absolute certainty that I would marry him anyway made him completely disregard my dignity and use it to satisfy Lyn’s unreasonable whims.

I opened the block contacts and unblocked Terrence.

The last message in the chat was from three years ago.

Terrence had texted, “Kimberly, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be right here.”

I flipped my phone face down on the nightstand.

Then I walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the water pour over my head, washing away the lingering scent of Brandon’s cologne.

Tomorrow was our wedding. If Brandon wanted to have his cake and eat it too, then I’d let him.