Condemned as a Bitch by All, I Tell the World to Get Lost

I took time off work to be the maid of honor for my best friend.
The moment I landed, she had a welcome gift waiting for me: the latest iPhone, a bottle of designer perfume, and a check for $5,200.
Just a little something, she said, hugging me tight. Even though I'm getting married, you'll always be the most important person in my life, Stella.
I was so moved I could have cried. The next morning, I was up at the crack of dawn, slipping into my bridesmaid dress to go find her.
Anna was in the middle of her makeup when I walked in. She saw me and waved excitedly, but as I got closer, her face went rigid. Her smile vanished, replaced by a mask of pure ice.
"Get the hell out of my wedding, you bitch."
I froze.
...
"Anna, are you kidding me?" I managed a nervous laugh, trying to play it off. "It's your big day. Stop messing around, you're actually scaring me."
I reached out to touch her arm, hoping a little physical contact would snap her out of this bizarre, far-too-realistic "joke."
But she recoiled as if I were toxic. "Who's kidding? Get out. Or I'm calling security."
My hand hung in the air. My mind went blank as I frantically tried to figure out what I could have possibly done wrong. I came up with nothing, even as Anna picked up her phone and actually started dialing.
I felt like I couldn't breathe. "Did I do something wrong? Is there some local custom I don't know about? Did I offend someone? I can apologize, Anna, just please don't be angry."
She was marrying a man from a city over 800 miles away from our hometown. It was possible I'd unknowingly broken some rule. I clung to that thought like a lifeline, looking at her with pleading eyes.
"Just tell me what I did."
Her gaze was venomous. "There's no custom. The fact that I'm not spelling it out for you is me being polite. Security! Get her out of here! I never want to see you again!"
Just yesterday, we were curled up in the same bed, laughing about memories from childhood. She was so worried about my long trip that shed booked me my own suite to rest. We'd only been apart for three hours. How could everything have changed so drastically?
When the security guard approached, I shook my head, my eyes fixed on Anna. "I don't know what I did, and you won't tell me. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. But today is the most important day of your life. Please don't kick me out. I'm your only bridesmaid. If I go, what will you do?"
The words were barely out of my mouth before Anna lunged forward and yanked at the bodice of my dress. "Take it off!"
She shoved her makeup artist forward. "Any woman can do this job. I don't need you. Stella, get the hell out. I don't have time for your drama. My makeup isn't even done! You're going to ruin my entire wedding, you bitch!"
I clutched at the fabric to keep myself from being exposed, the word "bitch" draining all the strength from my body. I looked at her, defeated, and pulled the handcrafted fan Id stayed up for nights making from my bag. I placed it gently on the table.
"I wish you a happy marriage," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll return the dress to you shortly."
Anna snatched the fan. For a fleeting second, I thought it was a sign of a truce. "I worked on that for so long," I said quickly. "I even burned my fingers. It's just the style you love."
The next second, she smashed it on the floor right in front of me, the delicate frame splintering into pieces.
She pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Get. Out."
Back in my room, I took off the dress and sent Anna a text.
[I'm still at the hotel. If you need anything, just call me.]
A red exclamation mark appeared. The message failed to send. She had blocked me.
I fell onto the bed, utterly defeated, the "why" screaming in my mind.
But the only answer that came was a knock on the door. It was security, sent by Anna to escort me off the premises.
I dragged my luggage through the lobby, past the large, smiling photo of the happy couple, and stood shivering in the cold wind. I had to know. Even if it was the end, I deserved to know why. I called the groom.
The phone connected. The man who had been nothing but polite and charming to me before suddenly spat venom. "You have the nerve to call me? Anna has the worst luck, having a slut like you for a friend. Get lost!"
That one wordslutwas like a key. A terrible, sickening idea began to form in my mind.
Dodging security, I went back to Anna's suite, carrying the welcome gifts she had given me. I found her glaring at me with undisguised contempt.
"Is this what it's about?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Do you think I'm some gold-digger who only cares about expensive gifts? I tried to refuse them yesterday, but you insisted. Here, take it all back. I don't want any of it. I just want my friend back."
Maybe it had all been a test.
Anna's eyes scanned the gifts, then me, as if we were both piles of garbage.
"This stuff is nothing to me," she sneered. "I'll say it one last time. Get out. Or I'll call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing. My fianc is a powerful man who loves me. You'll rot in jail."
I watched, frozen, as she started to dial 911.
I left before she could complete the call, leaving the gifts behind.
I hadn't gotten far down the hall when the door to her suite flew open and the gifts came sailing out, landing in a heap on the carpet.
"Take your trash with you, you garbage person. And get your filthy hands off my property."
I walked back and picked them up. I wasn't about to throw away thousands of dollars. My flight, my time off workthis whole disaster had already cost me enough.
I booked a flight home for that afternoon. That way, if Anna changed her mind, if she needed me for any reason, I could still get back in time.
I told my boyfriend, Alex, what happened. I sent him a picture from the day before, of me in the bridesmaid dress, laughing and play-fighting with Anna.
[This is the dress. It's not revealing, not flashy. I wore my hair in a bun so I wouldn't outshine her. I wore simple jewelry. I even wore flats so I'd be shorter than her. I thought of everything, Alex. What did I do wrong?!]
He sent back a hug emoji.
[If you know you did nothing wrong, then the problem is with the friendship, not you. Don't torture yourself. Come home. I'll take you out for a nice dinner tonight, we'll relax.]
I sighed, a tiny sliver of hope still flickering in my chest, waiting for a message from Anna that never came. The final boarding call echoed through the terminal.
I got on the plane.
I felt like a zombie walking back into my apartment. Alex's "nice dinner" had been postponed. A last-minute business trip had come up, so he couldn't even pick me from the airport.
My roommate, Sarah, who had also been my dormmate for all four years of college, saw my miserable expression. "What's wrong? Did the wedding not go well?"
I told her everything.
Her eyes went wide with shock. "How could she do that to you?"
"I don't know," I whispered, slumping onto the couch. "I'm just so tired. I'm going to bed."
Sarah nodded sympathetically.
The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast on the table with a note from her: Cheer up! Off to work. xo Sarah.
A little warmth spread through my chest. We'd started rooming together right after graduation when we were both broke. Now that I was making good money, we'd stayed together. Genuine friendship was a rare and precious thing.
I ate every bite, took a picture to thank her, and got ready for work. My boss had only approved two days off, warning me that I was too crucial to the team to be gone for long. Any more time and my pay would be docked.
I walked into the morning meeting and was surprised to see the Chairwoman of the board, Mrs. Davenport. I smiled and nodded at her; she smiled back.
But the moment I sat down, her expression soured. She slammed her hand on the table, the sound cracking through the quiet room. She stood up, her face contorted with rage, and pointed a trembling finger at me.
"You. Get out of my company. You're fired!"
I was stunned. The scene was so eerily similar to the day before that my brain couldn't process it. "Why? Is there a problem with the project?"
"The project is proceeding perfectly," she snapped.
"Is it because I took time off?"
"Your leave was approved. It's not that."
"Then why are you firing me? I haven't done anything wrong."
"I am the boss, Stella," she said, her voice dangerously low. "I don't need a reason. Go to HR, collect your severance, and be out of my building in five minutes."
She collapsed back into her chair, breathing heavily. Mrs. Davenport was usually so kind, a motherly figure to everyone in the office. She was known for giving second chances. And I was her star employee. She'd been planning to send me abroad for a special training program, promising me a promotion and a huge raise after my current project was completed. Now, she was looking at me with pure, unadulterated disgust.
I felt like I was cursed.
"Please," I begged, "just tell me why. I haven't done anything."
My direct manager, Mr. Roberts, rushed to her side, rubbing her back. "Just go, Stella," he hissed at me. "If you give her a heart attack, your severance won't even cover the hospital bills."
His words snapped me back to reality. He was right.
I left the conference room, my head spinning. As the door closed behind me, I heard a coworker mutter, "Knew she was going to get fired."
Like a lost ship spotting a lighthouse, I rushed over to him. "What did you say? Why was I fired?"
He looked me up and down with revulsion. "Because you're a slut."
Slut. There was that word again. The same word Anna's fianc had used. The same implication in Anna's "bitch."
But what had I done? I looked at my reflection in the glass door. I was wearing tailored trousers, not a skirt. Sensible leather shoes, not heels. My makeup was minimal. My clothes were professional and modest.
"Why are you calling me that?" I asked, my voice cracking. "What did I do?"
The coworker took a step back, as if I were contagious. He waved over a security guard. "Get her out of here."
For the second time in two days, I was physically removed from a building.

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