He Stole Our Future to Fund Her Wedding, So I Ruined Him Chapter 01

My best friend was relentlessly ambitious. She couldn’t stand how laid-back my boyfriend was, and she was sure he’d never give me a stable life.

After she kept pushing him, he turned into a workaholic, staying at the office late every night.

On holidays, he was either at his desk or away on business.

Then, on the eve of Thanksgiving, he canceled our holiday date for another work trip. That night, I came across a lost-and-found post about an action camera.

[This couple’s little moments are so sweet. It’d be a shame if they lost them.]

I stared at the photo of the couple the poster had shared.

The two people kissing on a beach were my boyfriend, Evan Brooks, and my best friend, Claire Bennett.

I contacted the poster immediately and claimed the camera.

That night, I watched videos of the three Thanksgivings Evan had missed with me.

The first year, Evan told me his project team had called an emergency meeting.

I reheated the dinner I’d made three times, but he never came home.

On camera, he had Claire on his shoulders as they watched the fireworks at Disney World.

The second year, Evan said he had to host some distant relatives.

I went to my parents’ house alone. The things they’d bought for him stayed in their packages.

But the “distant relatives” in the video were Claire’s parents.

The camera’s latest video was dated three days ago, at Miami International Airport.

Claire smiled sweetly into the lens.

“I said I wanted to see the ocean, and this idiot canceled an international conference and bought us plane tickets on the spot.”

I set the camera down and opened my phone.

Five hours earlier, I’d asked Evan when he’d be home for Thanksgiving the next day.

He’d sent a short reply.

[The company sent me out of town at the last minute. Don’t wait up.]

I stared at the message for a long time.

Finally, I erased the [Okay] I’d typed and sent [I won’t wait anymore.]

This time, I meant it.

***

He didn’t reply. Maybe he was watching the ocean with Claire. Maybe they were having dinner together.

I’d given Evan that camera during our first year together.

I’d told him we’d fill it with memories of us.

A rabbit sticker I’d put on the lower right corner was still there, though only half of it remained.

Over it were two engraved names: [Evan & Claire].

In three years, Claire had overwritten the five years Evan and I had shared.

The camera had recorded his happiness with someone else.

I turned it on and went through the photos one by one.

On my birthday, October eighth, Evan said he was entertaining clients. Claire said she was out of town and couldn’t make it back.

I told them it was fine. I blew out the candles and ate my cake alone.

I’d wished for Evan and Claire to always be by my side, safe and healthy.

At that very moment, the two people I’d wished for were celebrating Claire’s promotion over a candlelit dinner at a rooftop restaurant.

I’d had that restaurant saved on my phone for two months.

Every time I asked Evan to book a table with me, he gave me the same answer.

“It’s just dinner. Does it matter where we eat?”

Two Wednesdays ago, I was hospitalized with severe stomach pain. I called Evan three times, and he didn’t pick up.

I held a hot water bottle against my stomach, pulled out my IV, and went home. Evan was already in bed.

“Evan, why didn’t you answer my calls?”

He barely reacted.

“I fell asleep. My phone was on silent.”

I’d gotten home at midnight.

The camera’s timestamp showed Evan still in Claire’s video at 11:30 p.m.

He wore a pink apron as he made her a warm drink.

His phone lit up on the table. The caller ID read [Nora].

She kept filming. He kept smiling. Neither paid attention as my phone call rang out for the third time.

I put the camera away. Evan sent me a message.

[I’m in Miami. Want me to bring you anything?]

I didn’t reply. I called him instead.

It rang for a minute and a half before he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me your work trip was in Miami?”

Evan was silent for two seconds.

“The company planned a last-minute team retreat.”

“Don’t they let employees bring partners?”

I heard irritation creep into his voice.

“You don’t even like the beach. You’d just ruin the trip.”

I said nothing. Maybe Evan realized how harsh he’d sounded, because his voice softened.

“Come on. I’ll be back soon. Haven’t you been talking about that smoked fish dip from Miami?”

I paused and swallowed the words “All right.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want it anymore.”

Evan lost his patience completely.

“Suit yourself. I’m having dinner with my coworkers. Gotta go.”

I stared at the ended call. A second later, Claire posted to Instagram.

A table covered in seafood. Flowers at one end. A man’s hand in the corner of the photo.

Around his wrist was the braided bracelet I’d gone all the way to a mountain chapel to pray over for his safety.

Two seconds later, her post disappeared.

But I’d already seen the seafood, the flowers, and his hand.

The seafood had the spicy, tangy sauce Claire loved. The flowers were her favorite deep red roses.

Evan remembered everything about her, big and small.

Yet he thought I loved fish dip and couldn’t remember that I was allergic to seafood.

I didn’t try to figure out whether she’d hidden the post from me or deleted it.

I closed the app, opened an airline website, and booked a flight home.