The Good Wife Quit

They were perfect. The kind everyone swore was meant to be.

I saw it in college.

Adrian was cold, untouchable—except with Celine. Then he softened.

He knitted her scarves, waited outside her dorm, stayed up all night helping her study.

One photo of their backs could blow up the whole campus forum.

Back then, I'd pull up her pictures, grinding my teeth, jealous of how she had it all.

People compared us long before she came back.

After she returned, it got worse.

Or maybe they didn't bother saying my name at all.

No comparison needed.

***

Soft music filled the ballroom. I stood in low heels, my hand on Adrian's arm.

Then Celine walked in. Every eye snapped to her.

She came straight over, like nothing had changed.

She held out her hand, smiling. "Long time no see."

Adrian stayed blank. Didn't move.

But I felt it—his arm went tight.

He still didn't take it. Her hand hung there, unmoving.

The air went stiff.

I stepped in, trying to ease it. "Long time no see. When'd you get back?"

A small, stupid hope crept up.

Maybe... after all these years, Adrian cared. Maybe I had a place, even a small one.

Right then, Adrian's friend, Zane Wilder, stepped in and took her hand.

I grabbed nothing.

My hand hung there, empty.

People looked between us, amused. My little fantasy shattered without a word.

Adrian's jaw tightened. Right in front of me, he told her, "I'm married."

But I knew what that meant.

He was mourning what they lost.

Didn't even bother hiding it.

I'd already lost.