Claire Monroe watched the video again—third time this morning.
Ethan, standing awkwardly in front of Isabella Wynn at the graduation rooftop. The faint smirk on his lips. The way his voice almost cracked as he said the words.
"Will you marry me?"
And then Isabella's reply. Calm. Instant. Terrifyingly sincere.
"Very well."
Claire paused the video.
She hated how natural it looked.
Her phone buzzed. Another message from one of her classmates:
"You knew him, right? Since elementary? Did he ever mention her??"
Claire didn't reply.
She tossed the phone onto her bed, then turned to the mirror. Her room hadn't changed in years—soft lavender walls, a desk covered in notebooks and scented pens, photo collages pinned beside the window. One frame held a picture of her and Ethan, taken at age twelve, holding up science fair medals with goofy grins.
They hadn't taken a photo like that in years.
She leaned closer to the mirror.
"I had my chance," she said quietly. "And I wasted it."
She'd told herself Ethan just wasn't ready for romance. That he was too deep in his world of logic, start-ups, algorithms. She thought… maybe one day, he'd look up and notice her. The dependable one. The childhood friend. The girl who always believed in him.
Then she happened.
Isabella Wynn.
Claire pulled open her closet. Pastel skirts and cardigans. She shoved them aside. Too safe. Too quiet. She reached for a fitted blouse she hadn't worn since the senior retreat.
If Ethan was finally seeing people, she refused to be invisible.
Not anymore.
---
Later That Day
Claire walked down the university district, heart pounding beneath her carefully chosen outfit. She checked the time. She knew Ethan's routines—he always stopped by that little tech bookstore on the corner at 3:00 PM sharp on weekends.
And sure enough, there he was—browsing the software development section, frowning at a stack of books like they'd personally offended him.
She took a breath. Then another.
And walked in.
"Ethan."
He looked up, surprised. "Claire?"
She smiled, trying to keep it casual. "Got a minute?"
He blinked. "Uh… sure. Yeah."
Claire held her bag strap tightly. "Can we talk? Just us?"
Ethan nodded slowly. "Of course."
She didn't notice the black town car parked across the street.
Inside, Isabella Wynn sat in the backseat, watching through tinted glass. A tablet on her lap displayed Ethan's location tracker. Her expression was unreadable.
Then she spoke, calm and clipped.
"Pull the car around the block. I'll walk from here."