You're Marrying My Ex

POV: First Person (Hazel).

I slammed the apartment door shut with enough force to rattle the framed artwork on the walls, my chest heaving as I gasped for air. I had abandoned my desk in an absolute panic, sprinting out of the office lobby so fast that I violently snapped the heel off my left stiletto. I had just driven across town like a complete maniac, blowing through three consecutive red lights, dodging drunk pedestrians, and nearly crashing my prized Audi into a delivery van. All of this chaos, all of this frantic adrenaline, was for what my sister had frantically texted was a massive, life-altering emergency.

Instead of a fire, a break-in, or a medical crisis, I walked into the living room to find Piper sitting on the sofa, positively glowing with news. She didn't look like someone in the middle of a disaster. She looked like she had just won the lottery.

"I'm getting married!" she squealed, clapping her hands together.

I stood there, panting, clutching my broken shoe in one hand, completely derailed. "Huh? You were dating someone?"

"Of course I was, dummy. You know I absolutely love being in love," Piper laughed, tossing her perfectly styled blonde hair over her shoulder.

Before my racing heartbeat could even begin to settle, she stood up and bounded over to me, holding out a crisp, green and cream-colored invitation. It looked expensive, the kind of heavy cardstock that practically whispered wealth. My eyes instantly locked onto the gleaming silver calligraphy looping across the front.

My heart didn't just sink. It free-fell entirely through my stomach, past the floorboards, and plunged straight into the earth's crust.

The name written there, right next to my sister's, was *Caleb Mercer*.

The air in my lungs instantly evaporated. I stared at the elegant silver letters, the world around me tilting sharply on its axis. Caleb Mercer was my college ex. Not just an ex—*the* ex. The man who had walked out of my life without a shred of a real explanation. The man who had callously dumped me via a single, detached text message on my twenty-first birthday. He was the one ex I had never truly managed to get over, the phantom yardstick I subconsciously measured every other disastrous date against.

"Caleb Mercer," I said slowly, the syllables tasting like ash on my tongue. I looked up at her, my voice trembling. "Is it... my Caleb?"

Piper swiftly snatched the crisp invitation back from my shaking fingers, pulling it to her chest like a prized trophy. "He is HER Caleb now," she chirped, completely oblivious to the sheer devastation wrecking my face. "Isn't it absolutely crazy? He moved back to Valcrest last winter, we ran into each other, and it just clicked. Instant fireworks."

I stared at her in stunned silence. My brain was completely short-circuiting. "How could you possibly be marrying my ex?"

Piper just rolled her perfectly mascaraed eyes, letting out a soft sigh of condescension. "Oh, please. Your ex? Was that actually even a relationship? It was just a silly old fling from years ago. You can't honestly still be hung up on that, Haze."

My mouth went completely dry. I took a step forward, desperate for some kind of sisterly comfort, a grounding touch to remind me that this was just a terrible nightmare.

Piper immediately stepped back, wrinkling her nose in outright horror. She raised her hands to block me. "Oh. No, I really don't think I can hug you right now. You’ve got ink all over your fingers, and I just had this sweater dry-cleaned."

I looked down at myself, feeling the stark, messy contrast between us like a physical blow. She stood there radiating effortless grace in a pristine, pastel-pink cable-knit sweater, fresh white satin tank, and spotless cream trousers. Meanwhile, I was standing in my own entryway like a disaster zone—rumpled work button-down, a charcoal skirt wrinkled from sitting at a desk all day, carrying a broken shoe, with dark printer ink heavily smudged across three of my fingers.

"Anyway," Piper continued smoothly, smoothly pivoting back to her favorite subject—herself. "You are obviously going to be my maid of honor. But we need to talk about the aesthetic. I am highly specific about the shades and fabrics for the bridal party."

I stood there, still internally bleeding out, as she began to ramble.

"The dress needs to be a very specific green," Piper dictated, pacing across the hardwood floor. "And it needs to be silk. The kind of silk that looks like if envy and royalty had a scandalous love child. Do you understand what I'm saying? It needs to scream rich and regal. I am explicitly banning teal. I am banning moss. And I absolutely forbid that murky mall-green color you always seem to find in those clearance bins you love so much. The dress needs to say, 'Yes, I've arrived, and no, I don't care that you're staring.'"

I stared at her flatly, the residual panic in my veins slowly transmuting into a deep, heavy bitterness. "That shade is just called emerald, Piper."

She scoffed, giving me a pitying look. "No, it's not. Emerald is basic. I don't do basic. And please, Hazel, promise me you won't bring any of your Walmart thrifts to my pristine event. You have to look presentable enough to actually stand next to me."

At that exact moment, hearing her casually insult my life, my clothes, and my past while wearing the engagement ring of the only man I had ever truly loved, something inside me completely snapped. A hot, reckless spark ignited right in the center of my chest. If this was how my baby sister wanted to play, we were going to play.

I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face. "Can I bring a date?"

Piper paused, glancing at me with genuine skepticism. "A date? You haven't had a real relationship in years. Who could you possibly bring?"

"Actually," I said, my voice remarkably steady for someone whose life was currently burning down. "I've got some pretty big news to share too. I was going to keep it a secret for a while longer, but since we are sharing milestones... I'm engaged."

Piper nearly choked on her wine. Her eyes went wide in pure disbelief. "You?"

"Yes, me," I beamed, lying smoothly, without even a single blink of hesitation. "I'm getting married."

Her face twisted slightly, like she had bitten into a lemon. "Wow. That is... huge. Who is the guy?"

"Victor Sterling," I claimed boldly. "My best friend."

Piper's perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Victor? The finance guy? The one who always texts you under the table during Thanksgiving dinners?"

"The very one," I smiled brightly, committing fully to the massive lie tumbling out of my mouth.

"Well," Piper managed a tight, visibly strained smile. "Congratulations. I guess there really is something in the water."

The second the lie settled in the air, the adrenaline crashed, and sheer, disastrous regret began to claw at my throat. I immediately turned on my heel and marched into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, desperate to hide my face. I turned on the faucet, my trembling fingers betraying me as the rim of the glass clinked violently against the metal tap. I took a deep breath, desperately trying to backpedal.

"But, listen, you have to promise to keep it a secret from the family," I begged, leaning against the marble counter and forcing a casual laugh. "Victor and I are still figuring out our busy schedules. You know how crazy his hours are. We just don't want the family swarming us before we've locked down the details."

Piper walked up to the kitchen island, slinging her designer purse over her shoulder. She smiled at me perfectly, looking deeply serene. "Crystal," she agreed, her voice sweet and smooth, like a sugar cube melting in hot tea. "Your secret is safe with me, sis."

Seconds after the front door clicked shut behind her, the silence in the apartment was shattered.

A furious, relentless vibrating started echoing from my discarded handbag on the console table. The buzzing was so aggressive it sounded like a power tool. I practically dove for my bag, fishing my phone out from the depths. The moment the screen lit up, I let out a loud shriek, nearly dropping the device onto the floor.

Piper had immediately opened her big mouth. She hadn't even made it to her car before she told literally everyone in our entire gene pool.

The family group chat was completely exploding. Hundreds of unread notifications were piling up by the second. My mother, my dad, my older sister Nora, aunts, uncles—everyone was spamming the chat with excessive emojis, all caps congratulations, and demands for a picture of the ring. She had leaked the fake engagement to everyone. The lie was out, spreading like a highly combustible wildfire, and there was absolutely no way to put it back in the bottle.

I stared at the glowing screen, my vision blurring slightly as my heart hammered against my ribs. I realized with sheer panic that I had to warn Victor.