He Married My Best Friend, So I Married His

My boyfriend, Ethan Cole, hated the color red. Hated it so much he couldn't even stand red lights. So we'd made a ridiculous deal: whenever we went out together, every red light we hit on the road meant he'd cancel one thing he'd promised me that day. On Valentine's Day, we had a reservation at that trendy restaurant I'd been dying to try. We were two blocks away when the intersection turned red. Ethan said immediately, "Per our deal, today's date is over." On the weekend, we were supposed to go pick out wedding rings. We hit two red lights in a row on the way there. He turned to look at me, his tone so calm you'd think he was talking about the weather. "No more ring shopping. I'm taking you home." I was hurt, but I didn't say a word. Then one weekend, I planned two weeks in advance to bring him home to meet my parents and hold our engagement dinner. The day we left, I watched every single traffic light like a hawk, palms sweating. Clear roads the entire way. Not a single red light. I finally let out a breath. But ten minutes from my parents' house, Ethan's phone lit up. A message from my best friend, Chloe. "Anyone buying me coffee today?" Ethan glanced at it once and turned the car around. The red light at the intersection lasted a full sixty seconds. He wasn't impatient. He didn't frown. He didn't mention his deal. He just waited quietly for the light to change, then went out of his way to buy Chloe her coffee. He even texted her back, perfectly earnest: "The shop has a new red cup. Want one?" In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat, I felt like a joke. When the light turned red again, I said nothing. But Ethan spoke up. "Chloe wants to check out that new restaurant for photos. We'll do the dinner with your parents another time." "Don't bother rescheduling." I looked down, canceled the engagement dinner, and pushed open the car door. This time, red light or green, I was done waiting. Traffic streamed past in both directions. I stood on the curb, struck by a sudden wave of blankness. A horn blared behind me. "Emma, what's your problem?" Ethan was frowning at me, the same expression he wore when he was stuck at a red light. "It's just a few more days before you see your parents. You're really going to throw a fit over something this small? Can you please get a grip on your emotions?" "Did you forget our red-light deal? Do you know how many red lights we've already hit today?" So the red lights from the detour to get Chloe's coffee—those counted against me too. I said, "I'm not upset. I'm just tired. I'm going home." I turned and walked away. Ethan looked like he might come after me, but the next light turned red. In the end, he turned the car around. I watched his car pull away, and I couldn't help but laugh. When it came to me, he never forgot to stop at a red light. The moment I got back to my apartment, I saw Chloe's latest post. "Weekends are meant to be lived boldly." Her photos were drenched in red. Red roses. A red coffee cup. Steak drizzled with red wine sauce. Even the dress she was wearing was red. I stared at those photos quietly, then looked around my apartment. Black. White. Gray. Cold. Not a trace of warmth. Even the dress I'd planned to wear to my own engagement dinner was black. A friend had once asked me, "You only get engaged once in your life. Ethan can't put up with it just this once?" I'd stroked that black dress and murmured, "It's fine. I don't want to make him uncomfortable. It doesn't matter what color you wear to an engagement. It's just a ceremony." My friend had thrown open my closet. One glance was all it took. Every piece was muted. She said, "Emma, you used to love red more than anything when we were in school. You were bright and bold. Look at what you've turned into." Just then, my phone buzzed and pulled me out of the memory. A message from Chloe. "Emma, you really missed out today. That place was packed." "And guess what? We hit ten red lights on the way." Then she sent a video. The camera was shaky, like she'd hit record by accident. In the video, she was sitting in the passenger seat. "Ethan, I remember Emma said you absolutely hate waiting at red lights. Maybe we should just skip it today and go another time?" Ethan sat in the driver's seat, watching the road ahead quietly. What he said next drove into my chest like a blade of ice. "No need to skip it." "Whether I hate it or not depends on who's sitting next to me." Chloe laughed teasingly. "Careful. If Emma finds out, she might call off the engagement." Ethan said, "I should be so lucky." I watched for a few seconds before I finally spoke. "Since you two are having such a great time, why don't you just get engaged." The moment the words left my mouth, both people in the video froze. I hung up without expression. Then I dialed another number. "Liam, I'm going to the courthouse in three days to get married. Will you come?"

The reply came almost instantly. "Yes." A moment later, he sent another message: "You're not allowed to change your mind." I typed back one word: "Okay." Ethan called again soon after. I didn't pick up. The ringtone played over and over while my eyes drifted to the photo on the wall. It was from two months ago—the photo we'd taken during our wedding shoot. A photo that should have belonged to two people had a third person shoved into it. As if it had been telling me all along how this would end. That day, Chloe had laughed and said, "Emma, the three of us have known each other all these years and we don't have a single proper photo together. Today's the perfect chance." The photographer at the studio had gently suggested, "For a bridal shoot, it's a bit unusual to include someone else. Maybe schedule a separate session?" I was about to say something when Ethan's face darkened. "What's appropriate and what's not? Who makes these rules?" Then he turned to me. "Emma, Chloe's been running around helping you all day, and you're so petty you won't even take one photo with her?" Chloe jumped in immediately. "It's fine, really. Don't fight because of me." But Ethan pulled her between us, his voice already soft. "We've known each other this long. We really should have a photo together." I thought it would be just one. But by the end, my face was stiff from smiling. Every single bridal photo of me and Ethan had Chloe in it. When it was all over, there were photos of Ethan and Chloe. Photos of me and Chloe. It was supposed to be our bridal shoot, but there wasn't a single photo of just Ethan and me. As we were leaving, the photographer pulled me aside. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but in the end left me with only one line: "When three people walk the same road, one of them always has to step aside." Just then, the apartment door swung open. Ethan walked in with a red-eyed, puffy-faced Chloe and frowned at me. "Emma, why did you say that to Chloe?" Chloe looked at me with tears in her eyes. "Emma, I'm sorry. Are you mad at me? If you're mad, I'll stop seeing Ethan. I promise." Ethan pulled her close and wiped her tears with a tissue. "Don't say silly things. She's the one who owes you an apology. This has nothing to do with you." I watched the two of them fussing over each other right in front of me, then looked calmly at Ethan. "You never planned to come home with me for the engagement today, did you?" Ethan's hand paused. Just then, his phone buzzed. A friend's voice spilled from the speaker: "Ethan, well isn't this something. You finally changed fiancees, and now you're actually posting on social media?" I frowned. In seven years together, Ethan had never once posted anything. No matter how much I begged, he'd just say coolly, "Only immature people need social media to express their feelings." I opened his profile. On a page that had been blank for seven years, there was now a single photo. Him and Chloe. The caption was one line. "Glad to have you." So it wasn't that he couldn't express himself. The person worth expressing it for had just never been me. Looking at those few words, I suddenly felt exhausted. I'd been able to pretend I didn't notice so many things before. But this time, I was done pretending.

By the time my mom called to ask what was going on, Ethan had already left with Chloe. He never explained that post. My mom sighed on the other end of the line. "I told you a long time ago—don't let those two get so close. You never listened." "You always said you trusted Ethan. Do you still?" I held the phone, eyes cast down, and said nothing. Chloe and I had known each other since we were kids. Right after her divorce, her ex-husband had conned her out of everything she had. Ethan and I were still in the honeymoon phase. Back then, she hated men. Ethan hated stupid people. They'd fought like cats and dogs the first time they met. But when had everything changed? Maybe it was the time Chloe's ex-husband was harassing her, and Ethan left me standing on the side of the road to go pick her up. Maybe it was the night of Chloe's birthday, when she got blackout drunk and Ethan stayed with her the entire night—while I was lying in a hospital bed with a broken leg, all alone. Every time I tried to say something, Ethan would tell me, "She just went through a divorce. If she loses all faith in men now, how is she ever supposed to start over?" "Besides, she's your best friend. It's only right that I look out for her a little more." I knew something was wrong. I just couldn't put my finger on what. But things between the three of us had definitely changed from that point on. The next day was my birthday. I got up and cooked myself a bowl of noodles, then called Ethan. This was a promise we'd made seven years ago, when we first got together. He said he'd spend every birthday with me. The phone rang for a good fifteen seconds before he picked up. Ethan's voice came through: "Something's come up at Chloe's. I'm driving her over." He hung up before I could say a word. I waited from ten in the morning until ten at night. The noodles had long gone cold. Inedible. I stared at the bowl and suddenly thought of seven years ago. Back then, we lived in different cities. Neither of us had much money. To spend my birthday with me, Ethan had taken a train for over ten hours, scrimped and saved for two months. He'd lost so much weight he looked like a different person. I asked him, "Was it worth it? Wearing yourself out like this?" He said, "As long as it's for you, it's worth it." That night, he cooked me a bowl of noodles with his own hands. Then he pulled out a necklace worth eight thousand dollars from inside his coat. He'd bought it by eating the cheapest instant meals every day, saving up bit by bit. He said, "Emma, I can't give you the best right now. But on the day we get married, I promise I'll make you the most beautiful bride in the world." My eyes stung. Back then, I thought he was it for me. For the rest of my life. But now... Just then, a frantic ringtone yanked me back to reality. My mom's voice came through, panicked: "Emma, Chloe got married today!" I frowned. Before I could respond, her voice came again. "The groom is Ethan!"