I Bought My Own Betrayal

The room erupted in gushing over the perfect, in-love couple.

Worried I'd blow his cover, Chad pulled me aside and hissed, "I'm just helping a friend out with some family pressure, got it? Ruin this, and we're through."

I smiled sweetly. "Well, since my cousin and I have such similar taste—in houses and in men—I actually ordered a bunch of wedding supplies in bulk that I just know she'll adore. Consider it my gift."

For the first time, I saw a bead of sweat roll down Chad's temple.

"It's wild," I texted my boyfriend, Chad Miller. "My distant cousin and I are so connected we bought condos in the same complex. Same floor, same unit number. I must be losing it."

The moment I hit send, my cousin Ashley and her "fiancé" emerged from the bedroom.

Her relatives cheered as Ashley melted into her man's arms, all lovey-dovey.

I stood there, frozen.

My mom elbowed me, giving me that signature look of disappointment. "Look at your cousin, already getting married. And you? Still talking about that imaginary boyfriend of yours. When will I ever get to meet a real one?"

Oh, Mom, you just did.

That man, gazing so adoringly at another woman, is my Chad.

But the words stuck in my throat. Telling her would have given her a heart attack right then and there.

When I first walked into the complex, I thought it was a funny coincidence that my cousin and I had chosen the same place.

But the closer I got, the weirder it became—same building, same floor, and now, the same unit number.

My keys were safe at home. There was no way they'd gotten out.

So I convinced myself I must have the wrong building.

Then Chad walked out, and I knew.

It's always an inside job.

Because you never expect the person you love to be the one holding the knife, which makes it so much easier for them to drive it right into your back.

Chad and Ashley, the picture-perfect couple, were basking in the admiration.

He kept his arm possessively around her waist, leaning down every so often to kiss her forehead.

Each gesture played in my mind in painful, slow-motion clarity.

A wave of bitterness and rage washed over me, and all I wanted was to run.

But I was trapped by the chorus of relatives cooing, "Ashley is so lucky to have found such a handsome, wealthy man! May they live happily ever after!"

"Her fiancé is perfect for her! Weren't they college sweethearts? I've seen the pictures—they were so in love!"

Those words nailed my feet to the floor.

I remembered then—Chad did have a girlfriend named Ashley in college. His old classmates would sometimes joke with me about how intense they were, how unforgettable.

I guess it was so unforgettable they decided to pick up where they left off.

And I, the current girlfriend, was the fool.

Chad and Ashley made their rounds, greeting every relative until they finally reached us.