He Said He Loved Me, Then Gave Her Our Marriage Certificate Chapter 01

He Said He Loved Me, Then Gave Her Our Marriage Certificate Chapter 01

After my best friend was sexually assaulted, she wanted nothing to do with men.

When Serena Shaw found out I was dating Grant Whitmore, she refused to eat for three days.

“Men are disgusting. He’ll ruin you, too.”

Grant had clenched his jaw and snapped that she had better live long enough to watch him stay faithful to me for a lifetime.

After that, the two of them fought every time they met.

Then, the day before my wedding, Serena made an Instagram post:

[Does it count as personal growth if I stop depending on my best friend’s boyfriend?]

The comments immediately filled with abuse.

Early that afternoon, Grant flooded the post with red-heart emojis, uploaded their certified marriage record, and tagged me.

Serena pinned his comment:

[Her boyfriend became my husband the day before their wedding. How is that not growth?]

I could barely breathe, but Grant only smiled as if none of it mattered.

“You saw it?”

“There’s nothing else to it. Hiding it was exhausting, so I figured I should tell you now before you made a scene after the wedding.”

He handed me a glass of milk. “Serena doesn’t trust men.”

“A legal marriage was the only thing that could make her feel secure.”

“She got the certificate, that’s all. You’re still the woman who’ll stand beside me as Mrs. Whitmore.”

I smiled bitterly.

I no longer wanted the name.

******

When I said nothing, Grant held out a velvet jewelry box.

“Talia, I love you. That’s why I’m giving you the wedding of your dreams, but I don’t want Serena to feel cheated either.”

He removed a pair of diamond studs and fastened them in my ears. I recognized them at once; they were the ones I had paused over in a magazine a few days earlier.

“Come on, Talia. Serena acts tough, but she’s more fragile than anyone.”

“You know what she went through.”

“You used to ask me to be kinder to her. Now I’m asking you.

“Could you let her have her way a little more?”

A thousand tiny needles seemed to pierce my chest, and my nails dug into my palms.

Hadn’t I already given her enough?

When we were eighteen, Serena and I had been followed during our senior trip.

In the panic, she had shoved me away and run in the opposite direction to draw the man’s attention.

Several college students found me that night. Serena, however, was dragged into an alley.

She did not speak afterward. When I visited her at the hospital, I broke down so completely that I could hardly stand.

She pulled me into her arms and finally whispered her first words since the attack.

“Talia, thank God you’re safe.”

Guilt swallowed me whole. I believed that half of what she had suffered was my fault, so I spent years trying to repay her.

I gave up our school’s only full-ride scholarship nomination for her.

I withdrew from a job opportunity I wanted and recommended her instead, then gave her lead credit on my award-winning work.

Back then, Grant had wrapped me inside his coat and looked at me with eyes bright as stars.

“This wasn’t your fault. The man who attacked her was responsible.”

I shook my head. “If we hadn’t split up, maybe she wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“Everything I gave her was my choice.”

He had stroked my hair.

“Before you sacrifice yourself for someone else, you have to love yourself first.”

Then he met my bloodshot eyes and smiled.

“Otherwise, she’ll keep taking everything you have. What if she wants me someday?”

“Would you hand me over, too?”

His careless question had become a prophecy.

Grant’s phone rang. He glanced down, and the tenderness in his smile cut deeper than any confession.

“Yeah, I told her.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Your husband’s right here.”

He walked onto the balcony as he spoke.

My phone kept vibrating. Beneath Serena’s post, strangers tagged me again and again:

[Normally I don’t listen to home-wreckers tell their love stories, but this mess is too disgusting to miss. Somebody give us the whole story.]

Serena replied at once:

[She didn’t know. Don’t bother her. It’ll only hurt her. I’ll tell you myself.]

I bit down on my lip and stared at the screen, terrified I might miss even one word:

[When I was eighteen, I was assaulted after trying to save my best friend. From then on, I hated every man equally.]

[When she started dating, I was so afraid she would get hurt that I stopped eating in protest, but she fell for him anyway.]

[Her boyfriend became the man I hated most. I decided I would break them up, so I attacked him every time we met.]

[I wanted him to resent her because of me.]

[But he never did. He only treated her better, and eventually, I started to envy what they had.]