Every Bet They Made, Every Line They Crossed Chapter 01

Every Bet They Made, Every Line They Crossed Chapter 01

When I pulled up to city hall, Philip already held the marriage license in his hand.

My best friend Selena darted over and leaned affectionately against him. “We made a silly bet while waiting in line. I said our reservation number would be odd, and he refused to believe me. He lost the wager, so we went ahead and got married first.”

Philip wrapped an arm around her waist. “Selena swears she never wants marriage. We’ll file for divorce in a month. Nothing’s going to get in the way of you and me.”

He didn’t spare me a single glance, too busy bantering with her. “Funny how I never win bets against you.”

And he really never did.

Once, we hiked up a mountain. He lost a bet, carried Selena down the trail, and left me stranded halfway up with a sprained ankle.

On our anniversary trip, another lost bet turned our planned Iceland getaway into a trio. I was left trailing behind, lugging all the luggage.

Even the proposal became another bet. In the end, the engagement ring landed on Selena’s finger first.

I’d begged him repeatedly: no bets involving our city hall appointment. He’d sworn he’d keep that promise.

Yet history repeated itself.

They each looped an arm around me, their grip presumptuous and tight. “C’mon! Let’s grab a fancy dinner to celebrate our new marriage!”

I pushed them away. “No thanks. We’re done. Don’t talk to me again.”

***

I’d only walked a few steps when Philip grabbed my wrist.

“We’re supposed to get married today. Why are you making such a scene?”

I ripped my hand free, my tone ice-cold. “Do you even remember who you were meant to marry today?”

I enunciated the word “who” with icy precision.

Philip frowned. “It’s just a harmless bet. Why do you have to be such a sore loser? Selena’s your best friend, not some stranger.”

Selena chimed in. “Yeah, Bella, you know you can trust me. Stop being so sensitive. Nobody else would tolerate your attitude the way we do.”

They always ganged up on me like this.

When I broke down crying after missing a promotion, they scolded me for being too fragile.

When debilitating period cramps left me doubled over, they laughed and said I was faking the pain for attention, dismissing me as overly dramatic.

When Selena accidentally erased my project files, they told me to grow up and learn to back up my files.

Their words sounded sincere, and for a long time, I sank into endless overthinking. Now all I felt was crushing disappointment.

“I trusted you both far too much. That’s how you ended up betraying me.”

Passersby paused and stared in shock.

Selena’s eyes widened, tears welling instantly. “Bella… How could you say that about me?”

Philip pulled Selena firmly into his embrace, shielding her. “You’re acting unhinged today, picking fights over nothing. We’ve always made bets like this. You were fine with it before.”

A sharp, aching pain squeezed my chest.

Because of their bets, the pinned post on Philip’s Instagram profile was a photo of Selena.

Because of their bets, they sang a duet together at the company holiday party, and office gossip labeled me the homewrecker.

Because of their bets, he canceled his trip to meet my family to head home and have dinner with Selena instead.

One wager after another. To him, all my hurt and tolerance were simply habits I’d grown used to.

I said nothing, stepping around them without hesitation and walking away.

Philip snarled behind me. “You’re impossible. We coddle you far too much. Selena, forget her. Let’s go.”

Back at the apartment, I started packing my belongings.

Hanging front and center in the closet was a silk nightgown—one Philip had bought for Selena’s birthday, costing two months’ salary.

When he’d opened the package, I’d stared at my own threadbare pajamas, genuinely thrilled for him.

He wouldn’t let me touch it. “Selena stays over often. It’s convenient to have something for her. Your pajamas are too coarse; they’ll irritate her skin.”

Beneath it, a storage bag held several of Selena’s jackets.

Since Selena loved gaming, Philip had turned the home office into a gaming den. Whenever I needed workspace, I was forced to squeeze onto a tiny table on the balcony.

Their matching couple’s toothbrushes sat side-by-side in the bathroom. My cheap clear toothbrush sat alone in its cup.

Even the body wash was Selena’s favorite orange scent.

This apartment was supposed to be mine and Philip’s. Yet every corner bore Selena’s mark.

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, opened my laptop, and typed out and submitted my resignation letter.

The moment the system confirmed the request, a massive weight lifted off my shoulders.