You Can Keep My Fiancée

With our wedding just around the corner, I found a digital trail of highway toll receipts on my fiances phone.

Every trip had started in the dead of night. A twelve-hour drive, straight.

To keep me from noticing, she would turn right around and make the grueling journey back the very next day.

Looking at that exhausting, relentless schedule, my friends tried to reassure me.

"Its normal, man. Cold feet. Some women just panic before the big day. Shell snap out of it soon."

But I didn't buy it.

So, I followed her through the night, all the way to San Francisco.

And there, in the passenger seat of her car, I saw him.

I watched them get out, laughing, and walk together into a boutique hotel.

Panic flared in my chest. Blinded by a sudden, desperate anger, I lunged across the street to catch her, but I never made it. A passing car clipped me, sending me crashing hard onto the wet asphalt.

As my vision blurred and the pain set in, my fingers trembled over my screen, typing frantically.

"Please pick up. Ive been in an accident."

On the hotel steps, Vera paused. She unlocked her phone, her eyes scanning the screen. My breath hitched in my throat, waiting, praying for her to call.

But she didn't. She slipped the phone back into her pocket, turned, and followed the boy inside.

I blacked out. It wasn't until seven that evening that I finally dragged myself back to our apartment, my leg set in a heavy plaster cast, throbbing with a dull, sickening ache.

Only then did Veras name light up my screen, her voice dripping with artificial worry.

"Liam! What do you mean you were in an accident? Are you okay? Which hospital are you at? Im coming to get you."

"Don't worry about it," I said, my voice entirely flat.

There was no need to pick me up. And there was no need for a wedding anymore.

Perhaps it was the heavy silence on my end that tipped her off.

Vera began to explain, her voice soft and defensive.

"My phone died this afternoon. It was just such a crazy busy day, and I didn't have my charger."

That had been her go-to excuse for the last three months. If I hadnt seen her with my own eyes, Id probably still believe it.

"Okay."

"How is your leg? Is it bad?" She sounded genuinely concerned.

I glanced up at the wall clock. 7:40 PM. Exactly eight hours since I had sent her that text.

I snapped a photo of my heavy white cast and sent it over. A comminuted fracture.

Vera looked at it, but she didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she sent back a few photos of pink cherry blossoms.

"Theyre in full bloom here. Its like a pink sea. The photos dont even do it justice."

I stared at the images for a long moment before replying. "Is San Francisco really that beautiful?"

Beautiful enough to drive twelve hours for, four times in a single month? She had sent me virtually the same photo four times now. Same angle, same composition. She couldn't even be bothered to change up her lies.

There was a pause. She clearly hadn't expected the question. "Yeah. Its nice."

After a brief hesitation, she added, half-shielding the truth, "Actually, Im only half-vacationing. Im mostly here helping a friend out."

I didn't ask who the friend was. She wouldn't tell me anyway, and I already knew. It was Bradley, her ex.

Bradley had just updated his Instagram.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored linen shirt, posing under a canopy of cherry blossoms. The photographer clearly loved him; every shot captured the perfect golden hour light. It was a stark contrast to the photos Vera took of meblurry, out of focus, nine times out of ten my face was obscured.

Whenever I teased her about it, shed just laugh it off. "Im just bad at photography, Liam. Cut me some slack."

But looking at Bradley's feed, the truth clicked. It wasn't a lack of skill. It was a lack of interest.

Taking my silence as exhaustion, she said, "Get some rest, okay? Ill head back early tomorrow morning."

I said okay and hung up.

I clicked on Bradleys post again, reading his caption.

"Grad school is finally over! Four back-and-forth trips this month, but luckily, I had my favorite person helping me through it all. So grateful."

Four trips for him. Four twelve-hour drives for Vera. She hadn't missed a single one.

Meanwhile, our wedding venue, the caterers, the tuxedo fittingsshe hadn't spared a single second for any of it.

My head throbbed, and my cast felt suffocatingly tight. After spending an hour online canceling our wedding venue bookings, I stared at the ceiling. It was nearly 2:00 AM before I finally drifted into a restless sleep.

When I woke up, Vera was already back.

The rich, savory scent of homemade chicken soup drifted from the kitchen. Seeing me stir, she walked over and gently brushed a hand against my cheek. "How did the accident even happen?"

I stared at her for a moment. "I was out, and I thought I saw someone I knew. I tried to catch up to them, but I wasn't fast enough."

She let out a soft, dismissive murmur. "Well, be more careful next time."

She didn't ask where Id been, or who Id seen. Because she didn't care.

My flight itinerary to San Francisco was sitting right there on the entryway console, in plain sight. She didn't even glance at it.

My eyes stung. I gripped my crutches and swung myself out of bed. After a quick wash, I hobbled over to the dining table and reached for the ladle to pour myself a bowl of soup.

"Don't touch that!"

Vera lunged forward, her voice sharp and panicked.

I froze, the empty bowl trembling slightly in my hands. "It's not for me?"

She softened slightly, looking sheepish. "No... a friend of mine caught a really bad flu. I promised I'd whip up some soup for them."

She hesitated, then added, "But I mean, if you really want some, go ahead."

She forced a smile, but the underlying reluctance in her voice was impossible to miss.

I didn't say anything. I just looked down at my broken leg, set the bowl back down on the table, and let go.

Relieved, Vera immediately sealed the thermos and packed a few side dishes into a paper bag. Once she was done, she finally looked at me. "What do you want for lunch? I can make you some grilled cheese?"

"Who is this friend?"

Our voices collided in the quiet room.

"Just someone from school. You don't know them," she said, her voice smooth and practiced.

I nodded. "A guy or a girl?"

The faint smile slid off Veras face. She sighed, a trace of irritation bleeding through. "Liam, what is with you lately? They're just a friend. That's it."

"Are you just stressed out because of the wedding planning?"

I didn't push.

She turned toward the kitchen to start lunch, but then her phone buzzed on the counter. Vera snatched it up, her eyes darting over the screen. Within seconds, she was untying her apron, grabbing the thermos, and hurrying toward the door.

"Something came up. I have to run out for a bit. Make sure you eat something, okay?"

Before I could even open my mouth, the door clicked shut behind her.

She was in a frantic rush to tend to her ex's minor cold, completely blind to her fianc sitting there with a fractured leg.

My phone vibrated. A notification popped up: "Your wedding dress rental cancellation has been processed successfully."

I tapped confirm, then opened a food delivery app and ordered a sandwich.

After eating, I took an Uber to the clinic to pick up my pain medication. But as I walked through the lobby, I ran straight into Vera.

She was carrying Bradleys leather backpack in one hand and the empty soup thermos in the other. The moment she saw me, her laughter froze mid-air.

But she recovered quickly, smoothing over her expression. "Oh! We just ran into each other outside."

Right. A coincidence. Just happened to be at the same clinic, and he just happened to have finished every last drop of her soup.

Bradley didn't offer an explanation. Instead, he flashed me a polite, easy smile. "Hey, Liam. Why don't you grab your meds first? Well wait for you outside."

He sounded so comfortable, so welcoming. Like he was the host, and I was the guest.

Vera nodded in agreement as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I said nothing.

When we got to her car, I instinctively reached for the passenger door.

Bradley looked at my hand, a polite but pointed smile on his lips. "Sorry, Im so used to riding shotgun. Do you want me to move?"

His tone was pleasant, but his body didn't budge an inch. I looked past him. The seats height and the angle of the headrest were adjusted perfectly for him.

Before I could say a word, Vera opened the rear door for me. "Liam, you should probably sit in the back. Itll be easier with your leg anyway."

The entire drive back, they chatted and laughed, while I sat in the backseat behind an invisible wall, watching their world from the outside.

Suddenly, she pulled over by a fresh produce stand. Without a word, she jumped out of the car and ran toward it. I rolled down my window, watching her go.

Bradley spoke up from the front seat. "Don't worry. Shes just grabbing some fresh figs."

I froze. Before I could process that, Vera was already jogging back, her eyes bright with excitement. "Bradley, look! I found them!"

As she climbed back in, she suddenly remembered I was in the back. "Oh, Liam. Is there anything you wanted? I can go back and"

Before she could finish, Bradley split open a ripe fig and popped it right into her mouth. "Aren't they amazing?"

He didn't pull his hand away immediately, his fingertips lingering on her lower lip for a beat too long. Veras cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

She shot a panicked glance at the rearview mirror, quickly adjusted her seat, and cleared her throat. "Right. Lets get going."

Bradley sat back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

In the mirror, my expression remained entirely blank. When my eyes met Veras tense, searching gaze, I actually let out a soft laugh.

The car suddenly lurched forward as she hit the gas.

The second we dropped Bradley off at his apartment, Vera turned around to face me. "Please don't overthink that, Liam. Hes always been a tease. It was just a joke."

"Do you even remember that you're getting married?"

The question was sharp, cutting through the thick air. Veras expression soured, and she fell silent.

I turned my head toward the window, the passing streetlights blurring together.

Vera and Bradley had always been the golden couple. Back in college, everyone knew them as the brilliant, perfect match. They ran debate prep together, won regional titles side-by-side, traveled the country.

But they were both too stubborn, too competitive. They fought constantly, broke up, made up, and fought again. By graduation, reality caught up to them, and they ended it for good.

Vera had cried like her entire world was ending.

Id never seen her look so fragile. I remember stepping off the campus shuttle, seeing her huddled on a bench, and gently placing my baseball cap over her head to hide her tears. I walked away before she could even look up. It was over a year before our paths crossed again.

When they did, things progressed naturally. We exchanged numbers, started dating, and eventually built a life together. Our relationship was quiet, warm, and comfortable. There were no dramatic screaming matches, no devastating breakups.

And that, I realized, was why she found it boring.

"Stop reading into things. Nothing happened between us," she said, her tone hardening.

I looked up and locked eyes with her in the mirror. "Hes the friend from San Francisco, isn't he?"

"Yes," she admitted, her voice flatly defiant. "He was sick, and I went to look after him. Thats all it was."

She looked back at the road, raising a massive wall between us. A wall meant to protect someone else, leaving me on the outside.

Neither of us spoke for the rest of the ride. When we got to our building's garage, my leg was throbbing from all the walking. I waited by the trunk, hoping shed offer a hand.

Vera walked over, turned her back to me, and crouched down. "Get on. I'll carry you."

I was too exhausted to argue. I leaned onto her back, closing my eyes against her shoulder.

As the elevator rose, her phone chimed. She hesitated, looking down at the screen, before murmuring my name. "Liam?"

I didn't answer, pretending to be asleep.

Assuming I was out cold, she opened the text. It was a photo from Bradleyhim shirtless, posing by a pool. "How does this look? Thinking of posting it on Instagram."

Veras breathing hitched, turning shallow and rapid. She typed furiously: "Don't you dare post that."

"Why not?"

Veras grip on my thighs tightened. "Because I'm your woman."

"Glad you finally admit it. Too bad you're still marrying someone else."

This time, Vera didn't reply. The elevator doors slid open. She carried me into our apartment with delicate, quiet movements, laying me gently down on the sofa.

Then, she immediately hurried into the office, eager to check if Bradley had actually posted the photo.

She didn't see the damp patch on the back of her shirt where my tears had soaked through.

It was more than two hours later when she finally stepped out of the office, looking entirely relieved. Seeing me awake, she ran a hand through my hair. "Hungry? What do you want for lunch?"

"Just some fried rice," I said, shifting my body slightly and brushing her arm away.

Vera blinked, her eyes tracking my movement and landing on my bare hand. "Where is your ring?"

I had taken it off the second I woke up in the hospital.

"It gets in the way when I wash up."

"Did you put it somewhere safe? You can't just lose your wedding band, Liam."

"Does the ring really matter?"

Veras brows knitted together. "What kind of question is that? Of course it matters. Its the symbol of our commitment."

Yet just minutes ago, she was wearing hers while flirting with her ex.

When I stayed silent, she took a slow, deep breath, kneeling to take my hands in hers. "Liam, you need to have some faith in us. At the end of the day, you're the one I'm marrying."

But that didn't stop her from keeping her ex on a leash. I stared at her, genuinely wondering if she ever got tired of the juggling act. How did she find the energy to love two people at once?

After lunch, I went into the bedroom under the guise of resting, and quietly packed a bag. When I hobbled back out, Vera was putting on her coat.

"Going somewhere?"

"An alumni dinner." As if to preempt my suspicions, she added quickly, "Do you want to come?"

"Yes." I looked up and smiled at her stunned expression. "Ill come with you."

It was the first time I had ever insisted on joining her friends. The look on Veras face was far from thrilled.

Bradley was waiting outside the restaurant lobby when we pulled up.

When he saw me limping beside her, his face stiffened for a fraction of a second. But he recovered instantly, plastering on a warm smile. "Hey, Liam. Glad you could make it."

"Thanks," I said.

My eyes fell on his shirta soft, powder-blue linen. Then I looked at Vera, who was wearing a powder-blue knit dress. Even their watches were matching. Walking behind them, I felt like a third wheel on a date.

The moment we entered the private dining room, someone stood up with a loud grin. "Vera! We heard you're getting married! When did you and Bradley finally get back together? You kept that quiet! After all these years, I knew you two would end up together!"

Beside me, Vera froze, her entire posture stiffening.

Bradley, however, didn't look bothered at all. In fact, he turned his head slightly to look at me, scanning my face to see if Id break.

Someone who actually knew the truth cleared their throat, nudging the speaker. "Dude, you've had too much to drink. This is Liam, Vera's fianc."

The room went dead quiet. The guys face turned bright red, and he immediately apologized. "Oh, man. I'm so sorry. My bad."

I offered a polite, easy smile. "Don't worry about it."

Bradley let out a soft laugh. It was sharp, sudden, and dripping with condescension. A quiet mockery of my tolerance.

This time, I didn't let it slide. I turned to look at him directly. "What's funny, Bradley?"

He clearly hadn't expected me to call him out in front of everyone. His smug smile faltered. "Nothing. I didn't laugh, Liam. You're being a little sensitive, don't you think?"

"Am I?" I said softly. "So when you texted my fiance a shirtless photo of yourself in swimming trunks yesterday, was I just being sensitive about that, too?"

The room went instantly, suffocatingly quiet. You could have heard a pin drop.

Bradleys face drained of color. He looked down, thoroughly humiliated, his jaw tight.

Veras expression turned utterly venomous. She grabbed my wrist with an iron grip and pulled me toward the door. "Liam, that is enough! Stop making a scene!"

My broken leg clipped the corner of the wall as she dragged me out, and a sharp, white-hot flash of pain shot up my spine.

Once the pain subsided, I actually felt like laughing. I had just exposed her betrayal, and she was the one reprimanding me. "What are you so defensive about?" I asked.

"Im not defensive," she snapped, her jaw clenched. "It was just a beach photo. Don't be so provincial."

I nodded slowly. "Right. So if I texted my ex a photo of me in my underwear, you'd be totally fine with it? It's just a photo, after all."

Vera rubbed her temples, looking incredibly weary. Behind the closed door, we could hear the awkward hum of her friends whispering. She didn't want to do this here. "Just go home, Liam. Well talk about this at the apartment."

What was left to talk about? In a room full of people, when the lines were drawn, I was the one she cast aside.

Her friends stared at me with varying degrees of pity as I gathered my coat. Behind them, Bradley stood leaning against the wall, crossing his arms with a smug, victorious little wave.

I turned around and walked out.

But I didn't go back to our apartment. I took a cab to my parents' place, where they were already waiting for me. We packed the last of my things into the trunk of their car.

My mother looked at me, her eyes filled with a quiet, unconditional warmth. "Are you sure about this, sweetheart?" she asked.

I nodded. "I am."

By then, they had already sent out the notices to our relatives: "The wedding has been canceled."

On the drive to my parents' house, my phone buzzed. Bradley had posted again. "Perfect reunion with the old crew! Let's do this again next year!"

In the group photo, Vera was pressed flush against him, her arm looped playfully through his.

But I didn't feel the sting anymore. I had already walked off the battlefield.

At 8:00 PM, Vera finally unlocked the door to our apartment. But she wasn't greeted by the smell of dinner or the sound of the TV.

The flat was dead silent. A cold knot of dread tightened in her chest.