Three, Two, One—I Don’t Love You Anymore

This was my fourth attempt to marry my boyfriend, Torin Calder. We'd just reached the Office of Civil Marriages in Las Vegas. He and my best friend, Blythe Mercer, suddenly froze. No matter how hard I pulled, I couldn't make either of them take a single step. I knew they were playing the freeze game again. There was no warning. They simply stopped and competed to see who could hold their pose the longest. When we'd gone bungee jumping over a canyon, we'd agreed all three of us would take turns jumping. But the second my safety rope was secured, they shoved me off the platform, even though I was terrified of heights. Then they stood there without moving. When the staff brought me back to the platform, my legs were shaking. I demanded to know why they'd done it, but neither of them responded. Finally, Torin said, "Whoever moves or talks first loses. You know the rules." When he proposed, I blushed and held out my hand, waiting for Torin to slip the ring onto my finger. He froze. He left my hand hanging in the air. People passing by lowered their voices. "Did he change his mind? Doesn't she get it?" Torin didn't put the ring on my finger until my makeup was streaked with tears and I was about to leave. "Sweetheart, it was a joke. Why are you crying again?" Blythe linked her arm through mine affectionately. "Relax, Seren. You have to learn to enjoy yourself." I'd thought I would get used to it eventually. But before we'd left that day, I'd begged them over and over not to play. At least not while we were exchanging our vows. Yet there they were, doing it again. Exhaustion washed over me, and I stopped trying to pull them along. I would never get used to this game. I was done playing. …… People passed us, whispering. "The wedding's about to start. Why are they still out here?" "Look. She's the only one pulling him along. Only one of them wants to get married." Their voices were quiet, but I heard every word. I gripped our marriage license, its edges digging painfully into my fingers. I looked at Torin Calder. "Are we still getting married today?" He said nothing. He wouldn't even look at me. I gave a bitter little laugh at myself. I already knew the answer, but I'd still had to ask. I let go of his hand and took two steps back. Surprise flickered across Torin's face. But he still didn't move. "Keep playing, Torin. I'm out." I turned away from them and left. No footsteps followed me. They wouldn't come after me until the game was over. It took me more than an hour to get home alone. No one called. No one even texted to ask if I'd made it. I replied to the transfer email my manager had sent the previous week, accepted the move to our Seattle branch, and started packing. I had so little left that it only filled half a suitcase. When I'd moved in, I'd brought three full suitcases. Then Blythe Mercer had suggested the freeze game. The penalty for losing was to give her my things. The first was an emerald pendant I'd saved up for three months to buy. I didn't want to give it up, but Torin reassured me. "A bet's a bet. Don't spoil the fun—I'll buy you a better one." Three years had passed. I was still waiting. The second was a pair of silver pendants we'd had custom-made at an artisan jewelry shop for our first anniversary, engraved with each other's names. We'd barely reached the shop's door when he and Blythe started the freeze game again. I pulled and pulled. Neither of them would budge. More people gathered to watch until I finally broke down. "Do you have to humiliate me to have a good time?" Only then did Torin put his arms around me. "Okay, I surrender. I even lost the game to make you feel better." So Blythe took the engraved pendant I'd given him. "It has my name on it," I said. "You're giving it to her?" Torin ruffled my hair. "You made me lose. She can't win and get nothing." The anniversary gift I'd spent so long choosing ended up in Blythe's hands. The third was the gemstone brooch my mom had left me before she died. I was so feverish I could barely stay conscious, and I begged Torin to take me to the ER. He and Blythe wouldn't move. Only after I passed out from the fever did he take me to the hospital. The price was the brooch. He'd wagered it and lost. I nearly got down on my knees and begged him. "It's the last thing Mom left me. Torin, don't make a joke out of it..." His voice was gentle. "I don't want to, either. But rules are rules." "If you hadn't insisted on going to the hospital, I wouldn't have lost." There'd been so many other times that I couldn't remember them all. I'd asked Torin why they were the ones playing, yet it was always my things they gave away. "We're a team," he'd said. "What's mine is yours." Once, those words would have touched me. Now they just made me sick. I was putting the last piece of clothing into my suitcase when I finally heard the lock turn. Then I heard Blythe's voice. "Seren, he lost again because he came back for you. Guess what the penalty was this time?" "We just got married at a chapel. The officiant has already signed the paperwork." "I'm his wife now."

My hand stopped on the zipper. Torin explained from beside her. "It was just the penalty. I couldn't go back on my word." "None of this would've happened if you hadn't run home like that." "Sweetheart, I've made an appointment with a lawyer. I'll file for divorce next Monday. As soon as the court approves it, you and I will get married." He sounded so casual that I suddenly remembered our previous attempts to get married. Every time, something had gone wrong. Either his car wouldn't start, or he hadn't brought a valid driver's license. This time, I'd checked our IDs, gotten the marriage license, and even booked the ceremony. They'd started that sickening game again. But when it was his turn with Blythe, they got a new license, found a chapel that took walk-ins, and everything went smoothly. It was as though our wedding was the only one that could never happen. Blythe laughed. "Last time I won, I made him ruin your next three weddings. He didn't miss a single one—what a man of his word." I stared at Torin in disbelief. He'd ruined all three previous attempts on purpose. Every time, I'd stupidly thought it was just bad luck. Seeing my expression, Torin reached for my hand. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to overthink it. Next Monday, let's go set a new wedding date together, okay? This time, I promise." I yanked my hand away and laughed until tears came. "Set another date? So you can ruin it again?" "You two make me sick, Torin." "We're done. Bet on whatever you want from now on. Just leave me out of it." I pulled my suitcase toward the door. Torin tried to stop me, but a second later, Blythe called out, "Three, two, one—freeze!" The game began. His footsteps stopped. I kept wheeling my suitcase along. I didn't look back. For the next few days, I stayed in a short-term rental and prepared for my transfer. When the doorbell rang, I thought the movers I'd booked had arrived. I opened the door. It was Torin. For a moment, I was surprised. Whenever we fought, I was always the one who gave in first. He held out the perfume gift set I'd saved on a department store's website ages ago and said he wanted to apologize. To my shame, I actually wavered. I took the gift box and opened it. A spring-loaded snake shot out at my face. I screamed and threw the box. Laughter burst out in the hallway. Blythe stepped out from the corner by the stairs. She clutched her stomach, laughing so hard she couldn't stand straight. "Don't be mad, Seren. It was his penalty for losing." "I didn't think he'd have the nerve. Your face was priceless!" My heart went completely cold. Torin smiled and reached for my hand. "Okay, you've gotten it out of your system. Pack up and come home with me." I dodged his hand. "I told you. We broke up." His smile faded. "Seren, don't make this ugly." He acted as though coming to see me meant I should smile and accept everything he'd done. I was tired. "I don't want to be the punch line in your game anymore." "It's just a joke. Why are you the only one who's so sensitive?" He looked baffled. But when his gaze drifted to a corner of the room, he smiled again. "You say we're done, but you kept pictures of the three of us. How long do you expect me to keep trying to make you feel better?" I followed his gaze to the things I'd sorted out. On top was a photo of the three of us on our beach trip the previous year. That box was meant to go back to them. I handed it over. "Your stuff. Take it back." His face darkened. "You're serious?" Blythe finally spoke. "Seren, who breaks up over something this small?" "We weren't trying to hurt you." I looked at her. "I told you I didn't want to play. I told you it wasn't funny." "Why are you always the ones laughing, while I'm the only one crying?" "My things, my dignity, even whether I get to the hospital in time—you turn all of it into bets." I handed Blythe the other box. "Take it all. As of today, we're nothing to each other."

I'd handed her the box without much force, but Blythe suddenly stumbled backward. She nearly fell down the stairs, as though someone had shoved her hard. Torin immediately steadied her. The box hit the floor hard. The two figurines we'd made at a pottery studio for our third anniversary tumbled out. They shattered. Instinctively, I reached for the female figurine's head, but Torin shoved me away. My palm landed on the shards. A sharp piece of ceramic sank into my flesh, and I gasped in pain. Torin yelled at me. "If you're mad at me, take it out on me! Why go after her?" Blythe gently tugged at his sleeve, her eyes red. "Stop fighting. I was the one who suggested the game. I shouldn't have gotten involved with you two." "This is all my fault. I'll go." Crying, she turned to leave. Torin immediately grabbed her. "You didn't do anything wrong. She's treating a joke like a crime." He looked at me with disappointment. "What happened to the Seren who used to take things in stride?" The irony wasn't lost on me. I raised my bloody hand. "Torin, I'm bleeding this badly. Have you heard me complain?" He froze. At last, a trace of concern appeared in his eyes. But he'd barely taken a step when Blythe spoke. "Torin, I can't stand. My ankle hurts so much. Did I sprain it?" He stopped immediately. He looked at me coldly. "You did this to yourself. None of it would've happened if you hadn't pushed her." "Stay here and think about what you did. If you can't figure it out, don't bother coming to talk about the wedding next week!" He picked Blythe up and strode away. The door slammed shut. I gritted my teeth, pulled the shard out with tweezers, cleaned the wound, and wrapped it in gauze. Then I gathered the bloodstained pieces from the floor, bagged them, and threw them in the trash. The bag hit the bottom with a dull thud. That night, I saw Blythe's Instagram post. In the photo, Torin knelt on one knee in front of her, wiping her feet with a damp towel. [Training the perfect husband for my bestie. Lesson one: Taking care of a lady.] I stared at the picture, a little dazed. Torin always said he was my boyfriend, not my nurse, and I shouldn't expect him to do things like that. Even after my car accident, when I was stuck in bed and couldn't move, he'd never helped wash me. Now he was doing it for Blythe. I took a deep breath and left a comment. [Don't bother training him for me. He's yours.] A second later, the post disappeared. Torin's calls and messages poured in. "What was that comment supposed to mean?" "All our friends saw it. They're asking Blythe about it now. Do you have any idea how much you've embarrassed her?" "Apologize publicly. Right now. Or forget about the wedding!" "Answer me!" I stared at the barrage of accusations until my eyes ached. The first thing he'd said had nothing to do with my injury. All he cared about was that I'd told the truth and embarrassed Blythe. When I still didn't reply, he sent another message. "You like shaming people online? Fine. I'll let you see how it feels." Someone took a screenshot of my comment and shared it in a local Facebook gossip group. Soon, the screenshot was circulating everywhere. People called Blythe a homewrecker who'd gone after her friend's man. Before long, Torin released a statement. [Blythe Mercer and I are legally married. Everything Seren Vale has been saying is a lie.] He attached their signed marriage paperwork and a photo of them at the chapel. They were smiling sweetly, their faces pressed close together. They looked like happy newlyweds. Blythe also posted a video of herself lying in a hospital bed. She was pale, with blood showing through the gauze around her wrist. "I've always considered Seren my best friend. Even when she kept insisting my husband was her boyfriend, I couldn't bring myself to call her out in public." "I thought if I let her keep some dignity, she'd stop. But now she won't even leave my marriage alone." She cried so hard she could barely get the words out, like a real victim. Public opinion flipped in an instant. People dug up my name, workplace, and address. My inbox filled with abuse. Someone even posted the video from outside the Office of Civil Marriages. "He didn't even want to go inside, and she kept dragging him. She calls that a boyfriend?" "I went to college with her. She even had to pull his hand over to put her own engagement ring on." "Women like this don't understand the word no." Among all the abusive messages, Torin's stood out. "Do you understand what you did wrong now?" "Come apologize, and I can still help you book a new wedding date on Monday." I looked at the reminder on my phone for the next morning's flight. There was no need. I wasn't going to wait for that wedding.