Take My Bride She Is Yours

On the first night my best friend returned to the country, he got blindingly drunk over his first love. "Three years, man," Caleb slurred, clutching his glass of bourbon like a lifeline. "Three whole years, and I still can’t get her out of my head." He leaned forward, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine before drifting deliberately toward the woman sitting beside me. "She’s getting married next week. Tell me, Eli... should I steal her back?" He was asking me, but his gaze remained glued to Elena. Elena swirled the amber liquid in her tumbler with practiced indifference, but under the mahogany table, her knuckles were white against her silk trousers. I parted my lips to speak, but before a sound could escape my throat, translucent lines of glowing text suddenly drifted across my field of vision like a phantom ticker tape: [Look at this clueless side character trying to comfort him. His fiancée’s looking at the male lead with enough raw tension to set the room on fire.] [She only stayed with Eli for three years to bide her time. Now that her first love is back, who wants the knockoff?] [Let them finish this drink. The real couple is reuniting tonight, and the placeholder needs to pack his bags.] I froze, the air evaporating from my lungs. Looking across the table into Caleb’s expectant, faintly mocking eyes, I felt a strange, icy calm wash over me. I smiled softly. "You don't need to steal her." 1 Both of them snapped their heads toward me at the exact same time. A flicker of irritation crossed Caleb’s features. "What’s that supposed to mean, Eli? We’ve been brothers for years. Don't you want me to be happy?" When I didn't answer, he pushed himself up, fueled by alcohol and reckless entitlement, and grabbed the lapel of Elena’s blazer. The distance between them vanished in an instant. "If he won't give me an answer, you will," Caleb breathed against her mouth. "Should I steal you back, Elena?" He dragged out her name, every syllable heavy with shared history. The luminous words scrolled across the air in a frenzied blur: [Just kiss already! They’ve lost so many years!] [True love always wins!] [Why is the fiancé still sitting there? Hasn't he realized she only started dating him so she could keep tabs on Caleb?] Through the dim lounge lighting, I watched Elena's throat bob. She swallowed hard, her body taut with an effort at restraint that looked almost painful. My mind flashed back to the beginning of our relationship. Every time Caleb posted an update from London, Elena’s profile would show up in my viewer history within minutes. I had spent three years believing she was simply clingy, so infatuated with me that she checked my feed religiously. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking through me. Caleb tightened his grip on her lapels, pulling her so close their breaths mingled. Only then did Elena finally raise her hands and push him back, her voice breathless. "You’ve had too much to drink." "I haven't had enough!" Caleb shouted, leaning over the table. "Why should you two get married? I just want back what was always mine. Is that a crime? I want an answer from you two tonight." Elena’s jaw tightened. She said nothing. I had always known there was a ghost living in her past—a phantom ex-boyfriend for whom she had once swallowed a bottle of pills, for whom she had swallowed her pride and claimed her rightful place as the illegitimate heir to the Sterling estate just to prove a point. I just hadn't known the ghost was Caleb. She had never breathed a single word of his name to me. The theatrical tragedy unfolding before me suddenly felt cheap. I picked up my glass, drained the whiskey in one swallow, and set it down with a crisp clink. "Like I said," I remarked, my voice entirely steady, "you don't have to steal anything. She’ll be handed right back to you." Elena visibly flinched. But when Caleb stumbled beside her, her instinct took over—she caught him by the waist before he could fall. Caleb wiped the drunken tears from his lashes and threw his arms around my shoulders in a suffocating embrace. "Are you serious, Eli? You can't take it back!" "I won't," I said. Before I could add that there was nothing left to take back, Elena cut in. Her brow furrowed as she wrapped her tailored coat around Caleb's trembling frame. "He's drunk and out of his mind," she said, her tone laced with sharp reprimand directed at me. "Why are you indulging him? Let's end the night here. I have to stop by the office anyway; I’ll drop him off on the way." She guided Caleb into the passenger seat of her Porsche with practiced gentleness, buckling his seatbelt before walking back to where I stood on the curb. "Don't overthink this," she murmured, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from my shoulder. "I'm only helping him because he's your friend." She lingered on the pavement, her chin slightly tilted, waiting for me to flare up, to show jealousy, to demand she stay. She seemed to have forgotten that I had never given her Caleb’s new apartment address. How could she possibly know it was on her way? The excuse was riddled with holes, but I suddenly found myself lacking the will to care. I smiled, meeting her guarded eyes. "It's fine. You're free to do whatever you want." 2 It was two in the morning before I managed to hail a cab in the rain. As soon as I sat down, my phone buzzed. A text from Caleb: "Eli, thanks for the green light, bro. I’m going to make things right with her. She told me she never stopped loving me—she was just hurt that I left when she had nothing. Now that she has her family’s money, the air is totally cleared between us." I rested my head against the cool leather headrest and typed back a single word: "Congratulations." Whatever mess they made of each other from here on out was no longer my concern. Back at the apartment, I collapsed onto the sofa and opened my photo archive. The shared album I had kept with Caleb spanned nearly a decade of memories. Before he moved abroad, he had cried on my couch, lamenting the girl he left behind. "She has the face, she has the body, but she's completely broke, Eli," he had whined. "She practically begged me on her knees this morning not to board that plane. I know she loves me, but love doesn't pay rent in Mayfair." Back then, he hadn't known that the broke girl would claim a multi-million-dollar inheritance just to spite him. While Caleb was overseas, we facetimed constantly, sharing the mundane details of our lives. I posted those snippets on my public blog. That was how Elena found me. Her profile had lingered on every single post. She liked every video that featured Caleb’s voice in the background. When she slid into my direct messages, charming and attentive, I genuinely believed she had fallen for me. We met two months later, and within a year, we were living together. My screen lit up again. A text from Elena: "Working late at the office tonight. Don’t wait up for me." It was the first time in three years she hadn't come home. The luminous text drifted lazily across the ceiling: [The endgame couple is finally back in bed together.] [I swear, if the side character tries to guilt-trip her into coming home, he’s the worst.] [Please don't interrupt their reunion, we’ve waited so long for this chapter.] I locked my phone, tossed it onto the coffee table, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Around noon, Caleb's call woke me. "Hey, Eli! Let me buy you two lunch today. Consider it an early wedding gift. Come on, don't leave me hanging." I paused for two seconds, then agreed. They arrived at the bistro before me. When I stepped into the private dining room, the entrees were already served. Caleb’s head was resting comfortably on Elena’s shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. "If Eli finds out about us," Caleb murmured softly, "do you think he'll be upset?" Elena turned her face away, her expression unreadable. "Drop it. He can never know." Her tone carried the exact same unshakeable conviction as the day she had proposed to me. Six months ago, she had knelt on one knee by the ocean, sliding a platinum band onto my finger. "Once you wear this, you can never take it off," she had whispered. "You belong to me for the rest of your life." Six months was all it took for forever to rot. I took a quiet breath and walked over to the table. Caleb sat up immediately, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Eli. My blood sugar dropped a little, so I borrowed your girl's shoulder. Don't read into it, okay?" He nudged Elena playfully. "Why don't you go sit next to Eli?" Before she could stand, I raised a hand. "Stay where you are. I have my coat on that side anyway." Caleb shrugged, raising his glass of iced tea. "Eli, seriously, congrats on the wedding." He drank it down, then hesitated, glancing sideways at Elena. "Actually, I wanted to ask a favor today. My mom found out I was back in the States and is badgering me to go on blind dates. I panicked and lied, told her I already had a serious girlfriend." He paused, biting his lip. "I don't know anyone in town anymore. I was hoping Elena could play my girlfriend for a couple of days to get my mom off my back. Would that be cool? Elena already said yes." The words floated up again: [Poor baby Caleb, he has to make up an excuse just to bring the love of his life to meet his parents.] [The fiancé is definitely going to throw a fit. Classic petty villain behavior.] I picked up a piece of seared salmon, chewed slowly, and ignored the dark shadow crossing Elena’s face. "Sure," I said instantly. "Just make sure you guys look convincing." 3 A radiant smile broke across Caleb’s face. "I knew you were the best bro ever! Don't worry, I’ll take great care of her for you." Throughout the rest of the meal, Elena sat in stony silence. I couldn't fathom what she was brooding over. When the server finally brought the bill, Elena tapped her black card against the terminal without looking up. "Ma'am," the server said brightly, handing over a promotional card, "we have a promotion today. If you leave a review, we have a complimentary gift set for your husband." He smoothly extended the menu of gifts toward Caleb. Caleb accepted it without missing a beat. "I'll take this leather cardholder!" Elena quietly scanned the QR code to finish the review. Not a single person at the table corrected the server. Not a single word was offered in explanation. The moment we stepped through the front door of our apartment, Elena shoved me against the entryway wall, her frame radiating sharp, suppressed fury. "Since when did my fiancé become so generous?" she hissed, her dark eyes pinning me down. "Throwing me into another man's arms like I'm nothing?" I pushed her hands off my chest with a cold shove. "You said yes before I even got there." She stood frozen in the foyer for several seconds. "I told him I’d only go if you agreed," she said, her voice dropping. "I thought you would say no." When I didn't respond, she let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Whatever. It’s just one day of pretending. We're getting married next week, Eli. I have the rest of our lives to make sure you care about me again." Hearing her deliver those polished, poetic promises felt like nails on a chalkboard. Elena was an extraordinary actress; she had proved that over the last three years. If she weren't, I never would have been fooled so completely. I reached down, slid the platinum band off my ring finger, and set it on the entryway console with a soft, final thud. "Whether you wanted to go or not is between you and your conscience," I said quietly. "Don't push the blame onto me. And take this back." Elena’s face drained of color. "What are you doing? He's your best friend, Eli. Stop throwing a tantrum over nothing." Her eyes locked onto the ring, her hand reaching out to grab it, but the sudden chiming of her phone cut the tension in half. It was Caleb's custom ringtone—the same melody programmed into my phone. She looked at the screen, hesitated, and stepped back toward the door. "Eli, something urgent came up at his parents' place. I might not be back tonight." She avoided looking at the ring on the console. "His hometown is a few hours out. It might take a couple of days, but I promise I’ll be back the evening before the rehearsal." I gave a faint nod. "Go ahead." The luminous ticker flashed past: [Is the fiancé seriously still expecting a wedding?] [Wait until he sees Caleb crash the altar. He's going to cry himself to sleep for a month.] [He deserves it for getting between them in the first place.] The moment Elena’s car pulled away, my phone rang. Caleb's voice came through the speaker, breathless and slightly strained. "Eli... you've known Elena was my ex all along, haven't you?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "I know you two are supposed to get married. I shouldn't have stepped in. But I regret everything I did back then. I never stopped loving her, Eli, and she still loves me." He paused, his voice cracking with staged emotion. "Being with someone whose heart belongs to another man won't make you happy. Can you just... let us be?" In the quiet, cavernous hallway of my apartment, I let out a long breath. "Sure," I said evenly. "I'll let you have her." Caleb gasped on the other end, caught off guard. "You... you mean that?" "I mean it." I hung up, blocked his number, and deleted the contact. Our friendship had died three years ago; it just took me until today to bury it. 4 Standing in the center of the living room, every shared object felt like an insult. I grabbed a stack of heavy-duty contractor bags and began tearing down the life we had built. The matching linen robes, the ceramic mugs we had thrown together at a pottery class, the framed photographs from our trips to Maine—all of it went into the trash. When I was finished, the things that truly belonged to me barely filled two duffel bags. I sat on the stripped sofa and checked my phone. Caleb had created a three-person group chat with his parents and Elena, flooding it with photos of their road trip. The latest post on his public feed was a smiling family portrait: Caleb’s parents beaming in the center, flanked by Caleb and Elena. "Caption: Brought the girlfriend home to meet the folks. They love her!" I tapped the 'like' button. Seconds later, Elena sent a private message: "Babe, his parents insisted on that photo. I couldn't say no without making a scene. I'm picking up some local coffee beans you love on the way back, okay?" I replied "Whatever" and turned off my phone. A ninety-minute drive took them three full days. Elena finally returned at two in the morning on the eve of the wedding. She walked in and immediately wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, resting her cheek against my back. "Eli, your friend is way more high-maintenance than you are. I am never doing that again." She kissed the nape of my neck. "They say the bride and groom aren't supposed to see each other the night before the ceremony, but I missed you too much. I had to see you." Her touch made my skin crawl. I pulled away smoothly, putting the kitchen island between us. She didn't get angry. She just offered a tired, affectionate smile. "Are you still brooding over the fake girlfriend thing? He really needed the favor. He even wrote a beautiful toast for our ceremony tomorrow. I read it on the drive back—it’s incredible. I’ll recite it for you at the altar." The floating comments flickered into view: [I feel so bad for the female lead. She has to run back and baby the side character just to keep him from ruining tomorrow.] [Tomorrow’s altar swap is going to be cinematic gold.] [Can't wait to see the fiancé's face crumble.] I looked at Elena and whispered, "Then I wish you a very happy wedding." She caught only half the sentence, stepping closer. "What did you say?" Before I could answer, the custom ringtone blared again. She answered immediately, and Caleb’s panicked voice spilled into the room. "Elena... I drank too much at the lounge down the street. My head is spinning, I can't stand up... please come get me!" Elena straightened instantly, all exhaustion vanishing behind raw alarm. "Stay right where you are. Don't move. I'm coming." She hung up, her face filled with hurried guilt. "Eli, Caleb’s in trouble. Let me go help him out—consider it payment for the wedding toast. I’ll see you at the altar tomorrow, okay?" She pressed a frantic kiss to my forehead and bolted out the door. "You won't see me tomorrow," I thought, touching my cold forehead. "I'm not your groom." The ring remained on the console table. She was so blinded by her urgency for Caleb that she hadn't noticed the bare walls, the empty closets, or my packed bags waiting by the back door. She had missed her last chance to notice. The next morning, the grand ballroom of the St. Regis was packed with high society. Early that morning, Elena had sent one final text: "Eli, I'm finally marrying you." The ceremony began. Elena stood behind the towering carved doors in a custom Vera Wang gown with a five-yard train, waiting to walk toward the man she thought was waiting for her. The doors parted. The room fell dead silent. At the end of the aisle stood Caleb, wearing a midnight-blue tuxedo, pinned with the bespoke emerald brooch Elena had personally designed months ago. She took three steps forward before the spotlight shifted, illuminating his face. Elena froze. "Why are you here?"