Part 1Not What He Wanted

On our wedding night, Liam, who never touched a drop of alcohol, got completely wasted out of sheer happiness. Or so I thought.

Just as I was wondering what to do, my best friend sent me a wall of text on how to handle it. My cheeks burned with a slight blush, but I followed her instructions, carefully soothing him. Miraculously, Liam, who had been a restless mess, quieted down.

But as I reached for my phone to thank her, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Liam buried his face in my neck, his voice ragged with something that sounded like heartbreak.

"Robin," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "It was always you I wanted to marry."

As he spoke, his shirt shifted, revealing a tattoo just over his heart. It was a small, exquisitely detailed bird, a robin, so lifelike it seemed ready to take flight.

A roar filled my ears.

Robin. My best friend of twenty years.

And just like that, I understood. Liam wasn't drunk with joy. He was drunk with the misery of marrying the wrong woman.

* * *

My mind went blank for a long time before the world slowly seeped back in. My phone buzzed against the silk sheets. I picked it up with a trembling hand. It was Robin.

"Nina, don't let him lie flat on his back when he's this drunk. He could choke if he gets sick. You need to prop his head up..."

The message went on, a five-hundred-word essay on care and concern, but the words swam before my eyes. I couldn't read a single one.

Robin was always like this, so thoughtful, so caring. When Liam had stomach problems, she'd be the one to show up with a thermos of homemade soup. When his car broke down on the highway, she was the first to arrange for a tow. Even when Liam and I had issues in the bedroom, she would just smile gently and whisper advice in my ear, sharing her worldly wisdom.

She always wore this serene expression, a patient, all-encompassing smile gracing her lips. I used to thank my lucky stars for giving me such a wonderful sister.

But now, a violent shiver racked my body. A hot, shameful wave of humiliation washed over me. I’d been played for a fool.

When I didn't reply, my phone started ringing, the sound echoing in the silent room, again and again. I’d never noticed it before, but that was her way. If Robin didn't get what she wanted, she would push, relentlessly, almost defiantly, until she did.

This time, though, I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

A few seconds after I silenced the call, Liam’s phone lit up the darkness. The custom ringtone seemed to have a magical effect. Liam, who had been dead to the world moments before, stirred and answered instinctively. He glanced at me, his eyes glassy, before turning off the speakerphone.

I couldn’t hear what Robin said, but the tense lines around his eyes softened instantly. A low chuckle escaped his lips, and soon they were lost in conversation. One of them, oblivious to his new bride sitting right beside him. The other, seemingly forgetting it was her best friend’s wedding night.

The clock on the wall struck midnight before Liam finally ended the call, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips. When his eyes finally found me, it felt like an afterthought, a courtesy. His gaze rested on my face for a few long seconds.

For a moment, I thought he might ask why my makeup was streaked, why my eyes were red and swollen.

But his next words shattered my last shred of pride.

"Why didn't you answer her? She was worried about you, you know?"

I heard something inside me crack, a quiet, splintering sound.

"What?" My voice was barely a whisper.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, a stark contrast to the gentle man who had just been on the phone. "Robin was worried sick. You were just sitting here. Why wouldn't you text her back? Do you get some kind of sick pleasure out of messing with people?"

He was so considerate, so protective of Robin's feelings, while mine were completely invisible to him. I just stared, seeing the same handsome face I'd loved for years, but feeling like I was looking at a complete stranger.

Maybe it was the stunned look on my face, or maybe a sliver of sobriety cut through the alcoholic haze. Liam scrubbed a hand over his face, a wave of remorse washing over him. He moved closer and pulled me into an awkward hug.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into my hair. "I drank way too much tonight."

I fought back the tears stinging my eyes and gently pushed him away. I pointed a shaky finger at his chest. "Why is there a bird tattooed on you?"

Liam went silent, his eyes clouding over as if lost in a memory. In that suffocating quiet, there was nothing left to misunderstand.

I calmly wiped away the smudged mascara from under my eyes and stood up to leave the room. He caught my arm, pulling me back into his embrace. His voice was heavy with exhaustion.

"Nothing ever happened between us, I swear. It was all one-sided, on my part. I don't even like her anymore, not like that. As for the tattoo... I'd forgotten all about it. If you don't like it, I'll have it removed tomorrow, okay?"

My body trembled as a thousand thoughts warred in my mind. My phone vibrated again. A text from my mother, checking in. She wasn’t well, but she was always thinking of me.

Finally, in the suffocating silence of our new home, I gave a slow, deliberate nod.