My Crush Only Loved Me After I Died

I spotted Rowan in the guest lounge. The instant he laid eyes on me, his smile vanished. "Casey, shouldn't you be overseas on business?" he asked.

I forced a smile and tossed him a box. Inside was a watch, his favorite model. Buying it had drained my savings completely.

Rowan glanced at it, then shifted uncomfortably. "Casey, there are a ton of guests today. Maybe you should head back."

I hesitated, remembering how he'd once said I was his only choice for best man. Now, he just flat-out told me, "We've already picked someone else."

Just then, Eloise walked in.

Before I could get out more than a "Congratulations," Rowan was already at her side, taking her hand and suggesting she touch up her makeup. Eloise nodded, but as she turned away, she shot me a brief, lingering glance.

In the past, her every little move would've sent my heart racing. Now, I was calm—still as a pond.

After Eloise left, Rowan spun around, snatched a steaming cup of coffee from the table, and hurled it right in my face.

The scalding liquid splashed across my skin, drenching my hair and plastering it to my forehead. Coffee dripped down my cheeks, staining the suit I'd so carefully picked out for the occasion.

I stood there, stunned, staring at Rowan in disbelief. I noticed his eyes were red, too.

"Casey, I'm sorry. Being with Eloise... I've always felt insecure. Sometimes, I really envy you..." He trailed off.

I was taken aback. Envy me?

My family life was a mess, the person I loved didn't love me back, and now I was on the brink of despair. Meanwhile, he'd always had Eloise's unwavering devotion.

He worked late? Eloise would drive to pick him up. He casually mentioned craving a spiced honey cake? She'd have it delivered to his office. He wanted to go to a concert? She'd make time, no matter how swamped she was.

All the things I dreamed of, he had without even trying. Why the hell would he envy me?

Before I could respond, Rowan grabbed my hand, his grip urgent. "Casey, you're still single. You still like Eloise, don't you?"

His voice caught, and a tear finally slipped free. "If you just nod, I can let her go to you."

Bitterness swelled in my chest. Let her go? Feelings aren't something you can just hand over like a gift.

But looking into his pained eyes, I softened.

From eighteen to twenty-four, I'd spent six years cautiously stepping back from both friendship and love, until there was nowhere left to retreat.

"No need," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I stopped liking Eloise a long time ago."

With that, the last flicker of hope inside me was snuffed out.

Rowan was skeptical, his eyes boring into me. I dropped my gaze and lied, "I have a girlfriend now. We're planning to get married."

His eyes lit up, his voice pitching higher with excitement. "Really? Who is she? Got a picture? Let me see!"

I hesitated. "She... doesn't like having her picture taken."

Rowan's smile froze. Skepticism crept back into his gaze. "Casey, are you lying to me?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself.

Just then, the lounge door opened again.

Eloise returned, a ring box in her hand. The moment she saw me, her brows furrowed sharply. "What happened?"

Without missing a beat, Rowan blurted out, "Nothing, we were just messing around."

Eloise's expression turned icy, her voice sharp as a blade. "Do you have any idea what kind of event this is? Go change. Don't disrupt the proceedings."

My fingers curled into my palm, nails biting into skin.

To her, I was just someone who didn't know their damn place.

Rowan must have sensed my humiliation and spoke up. "Eloise, don't be so harsh."

Eloise replied flatly, "I just don't want something this important ruined by irrelevant people."

Irrelevant? That word landed like a punch to the gut, right where it hurt the most.

Swallowing the bitterness rising in my chest, I shook off Rowan's hand, gave a numb nod, and walked out. A staff member led me to a makeshift changing room—a converted storage area, of all places.

As I turned to change, I heard a strange sound behind me—soft, but unmistakable.