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When he reached for it, I instinctively pulled away, my shoulders tensing up.
Ryan looked caught off guard, his brows lifting a little.
I'd never kept secrets from him before—not once.
This was the first time I'd ever tried to hide something from him.
Frowning, he helped me up anyway, his hand firm on my arm.
He stared at me, his eyes a mix of irritation and just a flicker of concern. “What's with you today? Why are you being so careless?”
Once, I would've told myself that Ryan was just naturally reserved quiet—like, even when he cared, he didn't show it much.
Back then, even that tiny bit of worry would've been enough to make me happy.
But after seeing the way he looked at Annie in those posts—full of warmth and that soft, wholehearted devotion—I realized that when he truly loves someone, he doesn't hold anything back.
And in seven years, I'd never seen that side of him.
All the emotions I'd been shoving down—hurt, anger, sadness—seemed to go cold right then.
I wiped the frosting off my cheek with the back of my hand and said flatly, “Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.”
This time, I didn't throw my arms around his neck, complaining about how much my elbow hurt or begging him to act like he cared—like I used to do, every single time.
Ryan noticed the difference. He opened his mouth like he was gonna say something, but someone cut him off.
“Sorry doesn't fix this! You ruined the whole party!”
“Everything was perfect until you showed up and messed it all up!”
“I told Ryan ages ago he should've been with someone like Annie—you're just a clumsy mess, and you don't deserve him!”
The others crowded behind Annie, every word they said sharp with criticism.
Truth was, when Annie wasn't around, they used to be halfway nice to me.
Sometimes Ryan would even stand up for me, tell them to lay off..
But now that Annie was back, maybe because his friends were trying to prove they were on her side, or because Ryan was in a hurry to draw a line between us,
their attitude turned mean, and Ryan just got quieter.
I looked at the people across from me—every one of them staring, their faces tight with disdain and annoyance.
I stayed quiet, covered in sticky frosting, letting them spit out all their anger at me.
Finally, Annie stepped forward to smooth things over, like she was the one in charge.
She brushed a fleck of frosting from my hair and said gently, “Maybe we should call it a night. Ryan, why don't you take Vivian home?”
“If you all still wanna celebrate, we can do it another time.”
Before Ryan could respond, the others started protesting, loud and sharp.
“Why should we end the party short because of her? If she wanna leave, let her go—she's a grown woman, she doesn't need a babysitter!”
“Nobody even invited her, anyway—who asked her to show up out of nowhere?”
“C'mon, Ryan, you can't leave now—Annie's back for good, you can't ditch her for this!”
They ranted on, like they'd totally forgotten that this party was supposed to be for my proposal party.
Ryan's eyes shifted—from Lily, to his friends, then finally to me.
“Babe, head home first. I'll have my driver take you.”
“I can't leave right now. Annie's my friend—I can't let her down.”
He couldn't let her down, but letting me down was fine?
But I didn't argue. I just nodded calmly. “Okay, I'll go.”
Ryan let out a quiet, almost relieved sigh.
Right before I walked out, I saw him urgently pull out a handkerchief and carefully wipe the frosting off Annie's hands, his thumb brushing her knuckles soft.
But I didn't care anymore.
I didn't look back.
It wasn't until I was completely out of that venue—with its sickly sweet orchid smell clinging to my clothes—that I felt like I could breathe again..
I gasped for air, my chest tight, but then a sharp, brutal pain shot through my body—so bad I doubled over.
A warm, sticky feeling spread under my shirt, seeping into the fabric,
I looked down slowly, my hands shaking, and saw…
