I Gave My Ex the System That Predicted Our Breakup

Three months before our wedding, my best friend confessed to my boyfriend right in front of me. “I’ve held this in for ten years. Just give me a fair chance.” He frowned. “Stop messing around.” At that exact moment, several lines of text appeared before my eyes. [In three seconds, he’ll say: Willa and I are getting married.] [When he says it, his eyes will fall on Claire’s lips.] I froze, about to say something. But he had already spoken. Word for word. And his gaze landed exactly where the message said it would. [Fifteen days from now, he’ll text Claire first: Is your stomach feeling any better?] I arranged dinner for the three of us and casually asked Claire if her stomach was still bothering her. She smiled and shook her head. “I’ve been fine for ages.” When she got up to use the restroom, he lowered his head. Claire’s phone was still lit up on the chair beside him. [Forty-one days from now, he’ll pin a beach photo because Claire happens to be in the background.] I sent him one of our engagement photos. 'We’re getting married soon. Can you pin this one instead?' He opened it, looked for less than a second, then swiped it away. “The composition isn’t as good as the beach one.” [Seventy-four days from now, he’ll lie and say he’s away on a business trip, then spend three days at the hospital with Claire.] Before leaving, he hugged me. “Gotta go make money for our future.” Outside the hospital room, I saw him sitting beside Claire, carefully stirring her soup to cool it before handing it to her. On my phone, the message I had sent him— 'I think I have a fever.' Blue ticks. No reply. [Eighty days from now, he’ll ask if the wedding can be postponed.] For the first time, I answered the system. “That one won’t happen.” “I’ll cancel the wedding myself.” Chapter 1 The system replied almost immediately. [?] [You’ve tried to stop this plenty of times before.] [What, are you trying to make him chase you by pulling away?] [It won’t work.] It won’t work. I had lost count of how many times the system had told me that. And it was right. Three months ago, a timeline had appeared in front of me. Every time one of its predictions came true, that line would be crossed out and marked with a check. The list had once been packed with them. Now only the final prediction was still glowing. I didn’t respond. Just a few minutes earlier, I had been standing outside the glass door of Claire’s hospital room. He stood beside her bed. There were six containers of soup on the cabinet, all from different places. Only a spoonful or two had been touched from each. “Can you at least eat a little?” Claire lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. You went to all those places for nothing.” He didn’t answer. He scooped up a spoonful, cooled it, then held it out to her. I had watched scenes like this for three straight days. On the first day, he brought two kinds of soup. She didn’t touch either one. He picked one up and tasted it. It had gone cold. He threw it away and went out to buy another. She managed half a spoonful. “Too rich.” On the second day, he tried three different restaurants and lined everything up in front of her. She shook her head. “I don’t have an appetite.” He stood beside her bed scrolling through his phone for nearly half an hour. “There’s a place across the street that does lighter food. I’ll go get something from there.” On the third day, there were six containers. Claire turned her head away. “Aren’t you supposed to be going home today? Willa said she has a fever.” He didn’t look up as he cooled another spoonful of soup. “You know her. She’s healthy. It’s probably just a cold.” “You’re getting discharged later, and you won’t know how to handle everything by yourself.” I had stood outside that door for three days. That was enough. When I left the hospital, my phone buzzed. It was finally a reply to the message I had sent three hours earlier. 'I think I have a fever.' 'Are you feeling really bad? I’ll be back later. There aren’t any earlier trains.' 'Be good, okay? The medicine’s in the box under the coffee table. Take something and get some sleep.' I stared at the messages for a long time. They weren’t any different from all the others he had sent me before. When I got home, my laptop was still open on the coffee table, the screen glowing. The video I had been editing for our wedding was only half finished. I sat down on the couch and pressed play. Ten years of us. Texts. Handwritten notes. Little messages passed back and forth. The final frame froze on a piece of paper covered in his messy handwriting. 'If you’re lying to me, I’ll die. Seriously, I’ll die!’ 'You really want to be with me?' Underneath, in small, rounded pink handwriting, was my answer. 'Yeah.' That day in class, he had been so excited that he grabbed my hand beneath the desk. I had turned bright red and kept my head down, too embarrassed to look at him. That had been exactly ten years ago today. I pressed play again. By the seventh time the video ended, I heard the front door unlock. He stepped inside with his luggage. The moment he saw me, relief crossed his face. “Feeling better? You haven’t eaten, have you? I picked up a cake on the way back.” My gaze fell to the box in his hand. That bakery only had a location near Claire’s apartment. He walked over and kissed my forehead. Then his eyes drifted toward my laptop. “What’s that?” “Nothing.” He glanced at the screen and laughed softly. “You actually made a video?” “We were so childish back then. I can’t believe the stuff I used to say. It’s embarrassing just looking at it now.” The room went quiet. I stared at the frozen image on my laptop. My mind felt completely blank. In the bottom corner of the screen, the clock turned midnight. I finally spoke. “Yesterday was our ten-year anniversary.” He froze. Every other year, he had started planning our anniversary weeks in advance. This was the first time I had ever needed to remind him. He was silent for a few seconds. Then his gaze flicked toward the cake box on the coffee table. “I’m sorry. My business trip ran late. “I didn’t forget. I even brought cake. “How about we celebrate now?” I lowered my eyes and closed the laptop. “I’m sick. I can’t eat anything that rich.” Then I shook my head. “Forget it. “We don’t need to make it up.” Chapter 2 I lay in bed for a long time before the mattress finally dipped beside me. The covers lifted, then settled. The bed wasn’t even that big, but somehow, it felt like he wasn’t there at all. I turned my head and looked at his back. His white pajamas reminded me of his old school uniform. Nine years ago, he had been thinner. He had led me to the stairwell and told me to cover my eyes. I peeked through my fingers anyway. It was dark. Then I heard a soft click. A candle flickered to life, outlining him in a warm glow. He turned around with a cake in his hands, his forehead still damp with sweat. The bakery was all the way across town from our school. “Happy first anniversary, Willa. “Make a wish.” Study hall wasn’t over yet. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the faint rustle of pages turning. But all I could see was the candlelight reflected in his eyes. Instead of making my wish silently, I told him what it was. “On our tenth anniversary, I hope you’ll still be right beside me.” He smiled, then looked up at me. “I will.” That candlelight had stayed with me through every anniversary that followed. This year, it finally went out. I closed my eyes, swallowed the ache in my throat, and turned away. The next day, he sent me a location along with a message. 'Let me make it up to you. I made a reservation for tonight. Can we celebrate together?' The system appeared. [Eight hours from now, he’ll tell you something came up at work and he can’t make it.] I didn’t reply. Instead, I pulled out the contract for our wedding venue and stopped at the cancellation clause. Then I called. “I’d like to cancel my reservation.” The woman on the other end paused. “You’re sure you want to cancel, not postpone?” I went still. “Has someone asked about postponing it before?” “About a month ago, your fiancé called to ask whether changing the date would affect the deposit.” I had chosen the venue. I had paid the deposit. And he had never said a word to me. I closed my eyes for a moment. A month ago. Right around the time he pinned that beach photo. “Yes. I’m sure. Please cancel it.” “The deposit is nonrefundable.” “That’s fine.” After I hung up, I went through my contacts and called my bridesmaids one by one. I didn’t explain much. I just apologized and told them the wedding was off. By the time I reached the third person, a message from Claire popped up. 'Want to meet tonight?' My finger hovered over the screen for a long time. Then I replied. 'Sure.' The system appeared again. [?] [You’re not going to the restaurant he booked?] [Before, even when I warned you what would happen, you still went.] This time, I answered. “No.” “I’m not going.” Claire asked me to meet her at a bar. By the time I arrived, she had already had quite a bit to drink. Four or five empty bottles were lined up in front of her. She was slumped over the bar, but when she saw me, she smiled. “You came.” I sat down and pushed her drink away. “Your stomach just got better. Why are you drinking again?” “Because I feel awful.” Her eyes were unfocused. “Willa, I feel so awful.” I asked the bartender for some water and said nothing. Claire stayed quiet for a while. Then she suddenly sat up and grabbed my wrist. “I owe you an apology. “After I told him I liked him…” She paused, her voice dropping. “You probably thought it was over when he rejected me that day.” “It wasn’t. “We’ve been talking this whole time. “Behind your back.” She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and pushed it into my hands. “Go ahead. “Read it. “You’ll understand.” Their conversation was open on the screen. For a moment, I couldn’t tell whether the buzzing in my head was the system or just the blood rushing in my ears. I started scrolling. The first messages were from today. [Willa wore a white dress today.] [So?] [It reminded me of you in college.] I scrolled farther up. Yesterday. [Being stuck in the hospital is so boring. I zoomed in on that beach photo you posted. You were looking at me, weren’t you?] [Yeah.] [Does Willa know?] [She won’t look that closely.] Farther up. Two in the morning. [I can’t sleep. I feel like such an asshole, but I can’t stop myself.] Claire had replied: [Then stop trying.] I kept scrolling. A month ago. A message from him. [I miss you.] Claire hadn’t answered for a long time. Then: [Do you miss me, or do you just miss having someone to talk to?] His reply had taken even longer. [You.] I kept scrolling. And scrolling. There seemed to be no end. Message after message. Conversation after conversation. Each exchange filled in another stretch of time I had thought had been completely uneventful. Claire lowered her head into my lap. “I’m sorry. “I really didn’t want to lie to you.” I looked down at her. Ten years ago, on the day I had been about to tell her that he and I were officially together, she had cried just like this with her head in a classmate’s lap. “I’ve always known he likes Willa. I thought I was okay with it, but it still hurts so much.” That was the first time I found out Claire liked him. The thought of dating someone my best friend loved made me feel so guilty that I almost broke up with him. But he had looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and said, “This isn’t about anyone else. Just look at me.” And that was what stopped me from leaving. Later, Claire got another boyfriend. I thought she had moved on. So when she stood in front of us three months ago and asked him to give her a fair chance, I was shocked, but I said nothing. I thought it was just her way of finally saying goodbye to an old teenage crush. I thought he would handle it. What I never considered was that neither of them was the person I remembered anymore. Chapter 3 “Did Lucy tell you something?” I asked. Lucy was a mutual friend of ours, and one of my bridesmaids. Claire paused, then sat up straighter and nodded. “Willa.” She said my name softly. “Since you’ve already made your decision, could you…” She hesitated. “Could you give us your blessing? “Like I did when you two got together all those years ago.” I tightened my fingers around the glass of warm water. Somehow, my palms had gone cold. “You two are together?” She shook her head. “Not yet.” “It’s just that Gavin said…” Her finger traced the rim of her glass. “He said he’d think about it. He said that with you, he can’t tell anymore whether what he feels is love or just habit. “But with me, he worries. He panics. He gets angry.” She looked up at me, her eyes red. “That’s love, isn’t it?” “I don’t know.” “Then let’s make a bet.” She looked straight at me. “If you think that isn’t love, I’ll end things with him. “But if you think it is, then give us your blessing. “Willa, I don’t want to lose either of you.” She took her phone back and pulled up Gavin’s number. I watched her tap the call button and lift the phone to her ear. He answered. Her voice immediately softened. “Gavin… I’ve had a lot to drink. “I feel awful. Can you come get me? “I’m at the usual bar. The one the three of us used to go to.” The lights above the bar reflected sharply off the glass in front of me. I lifted my water and took a sip. It tasted like nothing. I couldn’t hear what Gavin said on the other end. But Claire suddenly smiled. “Okay.” Her voice was soft. “I’ll wait for you.” She hung up and looked at me. “He’s coming. “You don’t have to leave, Willa. “You can see for yourself.” I set down my glass and stood. The legs of my chair scraped briefly against the floor. “Okay. “I’ll stay.” I moved to the far end of the bar, where a half wall blocked most of the view. I sat down on the last stool. My phone lit up. I didn’t touch it. I just watched Claire. “I’ll watch from here.” A few minutes later, the bar door opened and a rush of cold air swept inside. Gavin stood in the doorway. His gaze swept across the room for a second before landing on Claire. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and frowned down at her. “You just got out of the hospital. Why are you doing this to yourself?” Claire looked up at him, her eyes still red. Her voice was quiet, but perfectly clear. “Gavin, what am I to you?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her arm. “Let’s talk about this at home.” “No.” “Say it here.” He was silent for a moment. “Just give me a little more time.” “There is no more time.” Claire gave a small laugh and reached into her purse. “You’re getting married in less than two weeks.” She pulled something out. A line of text appeared in front of me. [In ten seconds, he’ll throw the wedding invitation on the floor.] I bit my lip. I had designed those invitations myself. Every single one was different. Different fonts. Different illustrations. Different details depending on who it was for. I wasn’t a designer. I had revised them dozens of times before I was satisfied. Back then, Gavin had sat beside me, helping me search through design sites and image libraries. When the first sample came back from the printer, we lay on the rug together and held it up toward the light. He had turned his head toward me and smiled. “It looks amazing.” Ten seconds passed. Gavin reached out and took the invitation from Claire. He glanced at it. Paused. Only for a second. Then he let go. The invitation landed on the bar, slid off the edge, and fell beside his shoe. He didn’t bend down to pick it up. Instead, he stepped forward. Right onto it. Claire glanced down. “You’re standing on it.” He didn’t even look. “It doesn’t matter.” Then he bent down and lifted her straight out of the chair. Claire let out a startled cry and grabbed onto his shoulders. But she still snapped, “If you’re not going to be with me, then stop taking care of me. Just leave me here and let me drink myself to death!” “If you keep pulling this crap, I really am going to kill you.” He carried her toward the door. As he turned, the sole of his shoe ground over the invitation one more time. Claire didn’t say anything else. She simply looked over his shoulder. Across half the bar. Straight at me. Then she smiled. I smiled back. They left. Cold air swept in through the open door. Then it shut again. I stepped out from behind the wall. I crouched down and picked up the invitation. A dark shoe print was pressed deep into the paper. I carried it outside. A man was leaning against the wall smoking. I walked over. “Got a light?” He glanced at me, then handed me his lighter. I crouched down and held one corner of the invitation over the flame. The fire caught. The paper curled inward. Slowly, the flames swallowed the two names printed across the front. Gavin & Willa. Ash drifted down beside my feet. A gust of wind scattered it. I stood and handed the lighter back. The moment I turned around, a violent burst of static exploded inside my head. My knees buckled. A hand reached out from beside me and caught my arm. Then I heard the system. [Future System refreshing.] [Previous trajectory overwritten.] [Loading new key events.] [Eighteen days from now, he will attend your wedding to the man standing in front of you.] [He will be crying.] [Due to a major shift in the future trajectory, the host has unlocked System Transfer Authority.] [Transfer the system?]