Chapter 4: The Game and the Fall

During the bride pick-up, there was a little game. The DJ had everyone cracking up, music blaring, people cheering. The band was playing a jazzy version of “Sweet Caroline,” and someone’s grandma was already leading the line dance. It was chaos in the best way.

Marcus lost.

The punishment: carry the three of us bridesmaids downstairs on his back. Phones flashed like paparazzi, and the marble stairs echoed with laughter. He smiled as he carried everyone—except me.

He was breathing hard. “Sorry, I can’t carry anyone else.” His face was flushed, but he avoided my eyes completely.

Only then did the other bridesmaid notice me, giving me a curious once-over. She was the kind of girl who didn’t miss a thing, sharp and bright.

She asked softly, “Do you two know each other?”

Marcus barely hesitated before saying, “Childhood friends.”

It felt like something sharp stabbed my heart, the pain radiating out. All those years, reduced to two words. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood, willing myself not to cry.

He wouldn’t even acknowledge our relationship.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah. If you want to hear his embarrassing childhood stories, just ask me.” I let out a little laugh, but it sounded brittle, even to my own ears.

Marcus clearly hadn’t expected me to answer that way. His smile vanished instantly. There was this flash in his eyes—anger? Hurt? I couldn’t tell.

I pressed, “What’s wrong?”

He snapped, “Natalie, don’t start.”

How am I pushing it? Is he that afraid I’ll spill his childhood secrets?

Just then, the bridesmaid broke the tension. She blinked and smiled sweetly, “Really? Great, I’ve been wanting to know more about him.”

She turned to Marcus, her eyes playful. “Then can I ask you out?” She said it with the kind of confidence only someone unscarred by heartbreak can muster.

Marcus didn’t look at me. He just curled his lips and said lightly, “Yeah, why not?”

In that moment, my world collapsed. The room spun a little, my knees threatening to buckle. I clung to the banister, nails digging into the polished wood.

Marcus had always been handsome, and over the years, countless girls had tried to get close to him.

But every time, he’d firmly reject them: “Sorry, I already have someone I want to marry.”

Back then, we’d just made our relationship official. He’d already included me in his future. He’d said it in front of his buddies, in front of my family at Thanksgiving, with a confidence that made me believe anything was possible.

He’d given me so much security.

But now, I was just a “childhood friend.”

I tried to comfort myself: maybe he was just doing this to get back at me. He couldn’t really mean it. He was stubborn, but not cruel… right?

But the teasing from everyone around felt like knives in my heart. There were cameras flashing, people egging them on, and I felt like I was dissolving in plain sight.

“Add her on Instagram! Add her!”

People love to stir things up. Some of the bridesmaids were chanting, phones already out, ready to record another juicy moment for their followers. It was the kind of spectacle that made you want to sink through the floor.

Marcus smiled, took out his phone, pulled up his QR code for Snapchat, and handed it to Lillian as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I recognized that smile—the one he used to reserve just for me.

He even looked a little shy.

Just like back in junior year, when I was getting ready to apply for college out of state. He’d found out and dragged me behind the gym.

“Natalie, I like you. I’ve liked you for years.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Before I could answer, he suddenly leaned in and kissed my cheek. I remember the sound of cicadas, the feel of his hand in mine, the smell of grass and sweat and hope.

He’d smiled at me just like this.

Now, standing on the sidelines, I suddenly felt everything had lost its flavor, even become a bit ridiculous. I wondered if anyone else noticed the cracks in my voice, the way I kept smoothing my dress as if I could iron out my nerves.

Eight years of memories, all those little moments, now seemed pale and powerless. I remembered the road trips, the late-night talks, the way he’d tuck my hair behind my ear—gone, just like that.

I used to think our relationship was unbreakable. Now it seemed as fragile as thin paper, torn apart in an instant.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The air in the ballroom felt heavy, scented with peonies and regret.

“Come on, group photo!” the photographer called.

We all crowded around the bride and groom. Someone tossed confetti, and laughter rippled through the group. I pasted on my best smile, hoping it would fool the camera.

The girl who’d just confessed to Marcus took advantage of the chaos to nudge me aside. Someone’s arm brushed mine, nudging me out of the frame. When I turned around, she was already pressed up next to Marcus, standing by his side. My spot was filled before I could even blink. I faded back, smiling for a camera that didn’t see me.