Chapter 2

Maybe it was guilt, or something else entirely, but Dorothy actually stayed home all day and cooked an entire meal from scratch.

During dinner, my advisor sent me a message. I meant to type a reply, but I accidentally hit the audio playback button instead.

“Brian, your application has been approved. You’re all set to leave on the 11th.”

Dorothy’s ears caught the key detail immediately.

“What application? Are you transferring somewhere?”

I calmly explained, “No, it’s just a favor for a coworker. I submitted the application for them, but I guess my advisor thought it was mine.”

I casually replied to the message with a quick “Got it.” Dorothy, seemingly satisfied, picked up some food and placed it in my bowl.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Your coworker won’t be able to come to our wedding then. Make sure to send them some of the party favors later,” she said with a hint of regret.

I laughed to myself, bitterly. Not only would my coworker miss the wedding—I wouldn’t be attending it either.

The next morning, Dorothy woke up bright and early, fully dressed and made-up, and dragged me out of bed. Groggy, I glanced at the calendar, trying to remember if today was some special occasion.

She tapped my head with her makeup brush, rolling her eyes.

“Are you serious? You forgot we’re taking our wedding photos today?”

Wedding photos. Right. I’d almost forgotten.

Months ago, I’d planned to surprise her by booking a session at the city’s most sought-after studio—six months in advance, no less. But when she found out, she’d scolded me for being wasteful.

“Why would you book something so useless? What a waste of money,” she’d snapped. I remember blaming myself for not understanding what she wanted.

Then one day, while cleaning, I found a stack of photos tucked behind her awards—pictures of her and Mason in various poses, dressed in coordinated outfits. Turns out, she wasn’t against taking photos. She just didn’t want to take them with me.

Since the studio had a no-cancellation policy, the whole thing was left unresolved, and honestly, I’d nearly forgotten about it.

On the way to the shoot, Dorothy hesitated before speaking up.

“Mason wants to be one of the groomsmen for our wedding.”

I let out a dry laugh. So this photoshoot was just her way of buttering me up to agree.

I shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want.”

A smile spread across her face, and she continued, “He’s my partner, so his groomsman suit shouldn’t be like the others.”

“It also can’t be cheap. It should match the quality of your suit, at least.”

She might as well have just asked me to hand over my suit and let Mason wear it himself. I nodded.

“Alright, I’ll get him a suit.”

When we arrived at the studio, she got a phone call. Her expression darkened as she stared at her screen.

I asked, “What’s wrong?”

She quickly hid her phone behind her back and snapped, “Can you stop being so possessive? I can’t even talk to my friends without you overreacting?”

She waved me off.

“Go get dressed. I’ll join you in a bit.”

But when everything was ready—my suit, the set, the photographer—Dorothy was nowhere to be found.

Her phone went unanswered. The staff stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

The photographer, clearly a little nervous, cautiously asked, “So… should we start?”

I stayed calm, as if I’d seen this coming. After all, her phone screen before she left had been open to a chat with Mason.

“Yeah,” I said evenly. “Might as well. It’d be a shame to waste such a beautiful backdrop.”

After all, I’d be leaving this city soon. These photos would be my last keepsake.

When it was time to leave, I discovered Dorothy had taken the car. Stranded at the remote location, I ended up hitching a ride with the equipment truck. Squeezed between piles of lighting gear, I must’ve looked pretty pathetic.

Still, I was grateful they gave me a lift. Without them, who knows how long I’d have been stuck out there.

Back home, I reached out to the editor working on our wedding video.

“Hi, sorry for the trouble, but there’s been a change. The couple in the wedding video has… shifted. I’ll need you to re-edit it.”

Then I sent over a folder with several gigabytes of photos and videos.

It wasn’t long before the editor replied, almost excitedly:

“Oh, now this is a real couple! The chemistry is undeniable!”

“The last two people looked like they hated each other. Every photo had this huge emotional gap between them—it was impossible to edit!”

Even a stranger could tell who Dorothy was closest to. How could she not?