My Boyfriend Chose Her. So Did My Two Best Friends. Chapter 01

My Boyfriend Chose Her. So Did My Two Best Friends. Chapter 01

It was our last island trip before graduation.

The five of us had agreed to climb up before dawn to watch the sunrise.

But after I waited alone in the dark living room for half an hour, I realized my boyfriend Weston and my two childhood friends had already slipped out of their rooms.

I took a cab to the viewing platform alone.

In the grey morning light, I saw the three of them clustered around Harlow, the fragile, delicate underclassman who’d tagged along on the trip.

Weston had wrapped his own windbreaker around her shoulders.

The other two—Graham and Desmond—were holding up their phones, snapping the perfect backlit silhouette of the group.

Nobody noticed me standing a few steps behind them.

I looked down and opened Instagram. Weston had posted a Story five minutes earlier.

[The best version of youth.]

The photo showed four hands stacked together, fingers in a peace sign.

Mine wasn’t one of them.

I remembered buying sunscreen before the trip—they’d found a buy-one-get-one deal and grabbed two bottles, and not one of them thought of me, the one who actually burned easily.

I remembered the speedboat ride out, how the four of them had settled into the smooth back row without even discussing it,leaving the bumpy bow to me.

They hadn’t meant anything by it.

They’d just gotten used to me being there. And then gotten just as used to forgetting I was.

The moment the sun broke fully over the water, I didn’t walk up and say good morning.

I turned around and bought a ticket for the next ferry back to the mainland, and left the four of them on that beach for good.

…

“Hi, what time’s the next boat off the island?”

The woman at the ticket window flipped through her binder.

“6:40. Speedboat. Three seats left.”

“One ticket.”

My phone buzzed. Group chat.

Graham: [The sunrise is insane—Cassidy, get over here!!]

A photo was attached—Harlow standing at the railing, the sea wind lifting the hem of her dress, Weston’s windbreaker draped over her shoulders.

Desmond added: [Cassidy still asleep? Girl can SLEEP lol.]

Nobody had called.

Nobody had come looking for me.

The way they discovered I was gone was by posting the photo to their Stories, then casually shouting my name into the group chat as an afterthought.

I shoved the ticket in my pocket and didn’t reply.

The wind off the harbor was strong when I stepped outside the ticket office.

My phone lit up again—this time a DM from Weston.

[You feeling sick? Why didn’t you come up?]

The timestamp read 6:12.

They’d left at four. It took them over two hours to think of me at all.

I typed a few words, deleted them, and finally sent back three.

[At the docks.]

He replied instantly.

[The docks? What are you doing there?]

[Watching boats.]

[Weird. Come back, we’re about to get breakfast.Grab Harlow some hot milk—her stomach’s been off.]

Grab Harlow a hot milk.

Not are you okay. Not I’ll come find you. Just—get Harlow her milk.

I stared at that message for a long time.

My thumb hovered over the screen, then pulled back. I typed one word.

[OK.]

I was used to it.

I’d always been used to saying okay.

The little shop by the docks did have hot milk. I bought a cup and stood there holding it in the wind.

6:28.

The speedboat was already docked, crew calling passengers aboard.

The milk was still warm.

I set it down on a bench on the pier and walked toward the boarding gate.

The crew member scanned my ticket and announced through a megaphone,

“The speedboat departs promptly at 6:40. Passengers boarding, please move inside.”

I sat in the very last row.

Nobody fought me for the seat this time. There was only me.

My phone rang. Graham.

“Hey, Cassidy, where are you? Where’s the milk?”

“On the bench by the dock. Come grab it yourselves.”

“You’re not coming back to eat?”

“No.”

“Then what are you doing?”

The engine started up.

“Cassidy? What’s that sound?”

“Nothing. Bad signal.”

I hung up. Switched the phone to airplane mode.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, I could see the mountain in the distance.

The sun was already high, the figures on the viewing platform blurred into a smudge.

I couldn’t tell who was who anymore.

Honestly, I hadn’t been able to for a long time.

The ferry took forty minutes to reach the mainland.

I hauled the suitcase I’d packed the night before out through the terminal.

On the way in, the five of us had piled our bags together—Weston had carried two of Harlow’s, Graham had wheeled her suitcase. Desmond had glanced back at me once and said, “You didn’t pack much.”

That single glance.

That was the only moment, in the entire trip, that anyone had noticed me.

There was a shuttle straight to the airport outside.

I’d already checked the flight before we left—two o’clock that afternoon.

Back to campus, pack up my things, then catch a flight to Melbourne in three days.

I’d had the job offer for two weeks already.

I hadn’t told anyone.

Not because I was hiding it. Because I already knew no one would listen if I did.

The day I got the offer, I’d posted in the group chat: [I have some good news I want to share.]

Graham was posting photos of a cake Harlow had baked.

Desmond was gushing about Harlow’s cooking skills.

Weston sent back a string of emojis.

My message got buried. Nobody asked what the good news was.

I never brought it up again.

The shuttle wasn’t crowded. I sat by the window.

The second I switched off airplane mode, messages poured in like a dam breaking.

Weston: [Where’d you go?]

Weston: [Why aren’t you picking up?]

Weston: [Cassidy ,what is going on? Everyone’s waiting on you for breakfast.]

Graham: [Cassidy, you left the milk at the dock, but where are you???]

Desmond: [You didn’t seriously leave, did you?]

Harlow had sent a voice memo to the group. I tapped it and listened.

“Is Cassidy mad at us? Is it because we didn’t wake her for the sunrise?”

“It’s my fault, I told Graham last night I was scared of the dark and asked him to stay with me, and then everyone just… Cassidy, please don’t be upset.”

Soft, syrupy voice. Practically preening.

Scared of the dark.

She was scared of the dark, so Graham had stayed with her.

Weston had stayed with her too.

Desmond had stayed with her too.

And me?

Freshman year, during orientation week, the power had gone out one night.

The entire dorm building went black.

I’d called Weston and told him I was scared of the dark.

“You’re an adult,” he’d said. “Still scared of the dark?”

Then he’d hung up.

I never told anyone I was scared of the dark again.

In the group chat, Graham was already comforting Harlow: [Don’t worry about it, Cassidy is just cranky when she wakes up.]

Desmond chimed in: [Yeah, she’s always like this, don’t take it to heart.]

Weston hadn’t said a word in the chat.

But he’d DM’d me.

[If you’re upset just come back and say so. Don’t pull this disappearing act, it’s embarrassing for everyone.]

Embarrassing for everyone.

Not what’s wrong. Not I’m coming to find you.

Just—embarrassing for everyone.

I closed out of the message thread and opened the airline app to confirm my afternoon flight.

The shuttle rolled down the highway, the coastline shrinking behind us.

My phone lit up again. Weston calling.

I watched his name flash on the screen and let it ring for thirty seconds.

On the seventh ring, I hit mute.

Wind slid in through the gap in the window, salty.

Like the taste of tears.

“Excuse me, how much longer to the airport?” I asked the driver.

“Forty minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Right before the screen went dark, I saw Weston’s last message.

[Fine. Take your space. We’ll talk tonight when you’re back.]

Tonight.

He thought I was coming back tonight.

He always thought I’d come back.

Just like every other time I’d been overlooked—I’d smile, say it was fine, and fall back in line behind them.

“Not coming back,” I said, to no one.

The engine drowned it out. Nobody heard.