Even more unsettling was his newfound tendency to criticize the very qualities he had once professed to adore. My laugh, which he used to call infectious, was suddenly too boisterous for public settings. A favorite cobalt blue dress he had once complimented lavishly now, according to him, made me look pale and washed-out. My cherished habit of reading in bed, a quirk he had previously found charming, was now an irritation because the lamplight disturbed his sleep.

Simultaneously, Ashley’s phone calls became more frequent, always under the guise of wanting to discuss wedding logistics.

— I just want to ensure everything is absolutely perfect for my big sister.

She would coo, even though my mother was orchestrating the majority of the arrangements. Ashley eagerly offered to attend meetings with vendors that my own demanding work schedule forced me to miss.

One Thursday, Ethan and I were having dinner at a high-end Italian bistro in SoHo. He offered me minimal eye contact, his responses to my accounts of the workday reduced to monosyllabic grunts. When his phone vibrated for the fifth time, my patience wore thin.

— Is there a more pressing engagement you have somewhere else?

I inquired, my tone light despite the irritation simmering within me.

— Sorry, just work obligations.

He mumbled, placing the device face-down on the linen tablecloth.

— You know how things get before a major product launch.

Later that week, while doing laundry, I detected the foreign scent of an unfamiliar perfume on the collar of Ethan’s shirt. It was a heavy, floral fragrance, a stark contrast to the light, subtle scent I wore. When I confronted him about it, he explained that he’d been in a series of meetings with a potential investor, a woman named Jennifer Morgan, who apparently had a penchant for overpowering perfume and had embraced him in a farewell hug. The story was plausible enough. I desperately wanted to accept it.

I met my friend Lauren for coffee the next morning and voiced my anxieties.

— Every couple gets the pre-wedding jitters.

Lauren said reassuringly, swirling the foam in her latte.

— Kevin and I argued nonstop for a month before we got married, and now look at us, five years and going strong.

But the persistent knot of dread in my stomach refused to loosen. My mother sensed my unease during our weekly lunch.

— You seem preoccupied, sweetheart.

She observed, her hand covering mine across the table.

— Is it wedding stress, or something more?

— Just busy with the final details.

I said, forcing a smile.

— Everything is fine.

But nothing was fine. I began to pour more effort into our relationship, consumed by the fear that I had perhaps become complacent and was taking Ethan for granted. I scheduled a couple’s spa day, invested in expensive new lingerie, and attempted to master his favorite complex recipes. Yet, the more I tried to bridge the growing chasm between us, the more withdrawn he became.

Then came the appointment for the cake tasting, an event Ethan had been enthusiastically anticipating for weeks. On the morning of, he called to say that an unforeseen meeting with investors had materialized out of nowhere.

— Ashley can go with you.

He suggested casually.

— She knows what I like, anyway.

A wave of nausea washed over me as I ended the call. How could my sister possibly know my fiancé’s dessert preferences better than I did? Nevertheless, I agreed to have her join me.

The following day, I decided to clean out Ethan’s car before a dinner party we were hosting. Wedged deep between the passenger seat and the center console, my fingers brushed against a small metal object. It was an earring—a delicate, dangling silver piece with a tiny sapphire. I recognized it instantly. It belonged to Ashley. They were a gift from our grandmother, and she had worn them to my engagement party.

When I presented the earring to Ethan that evening, his expression remained a mask of perfect composure.

— Oh, your sister must have lost that when I gave her a lift to the florist last week.

He said with unnerving smoothness.

— She mentioned she was missing one.

— You never told me you gave Ashley a ride to the florist.

My voice was a fragile whisper.

— Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind. It was hardly a significant event.

When I called Ashley, her story was a perfect mirror of his. Too perfect.

— Oh, thank heavens! I’ve been searching for that earring everywhere. Ethan was so kind to drive me; my car was at the dealership.

That night, sleep was an impossibility. My mind raced, replaying their synchronized stories. Had they meticulously rehearsed their alibis? Or was I succumbing to a destructive paranoia? The stress caused my appetite to vanish, and dark, hollow circles formed beneath my eyes. I started seeing a therapist, a secret I kept from Ethan.

Three weeks before the wedding, Ethan broached the idea of a postponement.

— I’m concerned about you, Jessica. You haven’t been yourself. Maybe we’re moving too fast.

His words shattered my fragile control. I dissolved into tears, pleading with him to tell me what was wrong, what I had done, how I could possibly fix it. He held me and murmured reassurances, but his eyes were distant and empty.

That night, I awoke at three in the morning to an empty space beside me in our bed. I crept out into the hallway and heard his hushed tones emanating from the guest bedroom.

— Not now. She’ll hear us… I know, I know. Soon, I promise.

The next day, I resolved to surprise Ethan at his office with lunch. As I was leaving my apartment, my father, Robert, called.

— Jessica, are you eating enough? Your mother says you look like you’ve lost too much weight. We’re worried.

— I’m fine, Dad. Just the usual pre-wedding nerves. I’m on my way to bring Ethan some lunch right now.

— Good. That young man had better be treating my daughter like a queen.

If he only knew.

The security guard in the lobby of Ethan’s corporate headquarters knew me by sight and waved me through with a friendly smile. During the elevator ascent to the twelfth floor, I examined my reflection in the polished steel walls, attempting to massage away the worry lines that had taken up permanent residence between my brows. In my hand, I clutched a paper bag containing Ethan’s favorite sandwich from the deli near my office.

When I stepped into the reception area, Ethan’s secretary, Brenda, looked up from her computer, her eyes widening in alarm.

— Jessica! We weren’t expecting you.

Her gaze flickered nervously toward Ethan’s closed office door and then back to me.

— Ethan is, ah, in a very important meeting at the moment.

— That’s alright.

I said, holding up the lunch bag.

— I’ll just wait.

Brenda shot up from her chair, physically moving to block my path.

— Actually, he left specific instructions not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Perhaps I could just let him know you stopped by?

Something in her frantic demeanor confirmed all my darkest fears.

— Is he in there by himself, Brenda?

Her hesitation was my answer. Before she could fabricate another lie, I moved past her and pushed open the heavy oak door to Ethan’s office.

The image that confronted me was seared into my mind for eternity. Ethan was leaned back against his mahogany desk, his hands possessively on my sister’s waist. Ashley’s arms were coiled around his neck, their mouths locked together in a kiss of searing passion. They were so engrossed that they didn’t notice my presence for several agonizing seconds, granting me a torturous eternity to absorb every damning detail: the way Ashley’s skirt was hiked up her thighs, the disarray of Ethan’s tie, the practiced ease of their embrace that spoke of countless stolen moments.

When the door finally clicked shut behind me, they flew apart. The three of us were frozen in a silent, horrified tableau.

— Jessica.

Ethan was the first to find his voice, clumsily straightening his tie.

— This is not what it looks like.

Ashley, however, made no such attempt at a flimsy deception. She tilted her chin up in a gesture of pure defiance.

— We didn’t mean for this to happen. It just… happened.

A preternatural calm descended upon me.

— How long?

Ethan shot a panicked glance at Ashley before looking back at me.

— Jessica, let’s go home and discuss this in private.

— How long?

My voice was unnervingly steady.

— For months.

Ashley answered, her voice cold.

— Since the engagement party.

For months. Nearly half the duration of our engagement. While I had been meticulously selecting wedding invitations and agonizing over floral centerpieces, they had been conducting a clandestine affair behind my back.