Rose Voss stood in front of her bedroom mirror, twisting the silver ring on her finger until it left faint impressions in her skin. Seven years. Seven years of careful compromise, small sacrifices, endless "support" for Jason Harper, and the constant pressure to be perfect. perfectly thin, perfectly polished, perfectly grateful for whatever scraps of affection he threw her way.
Today was supposed to be celebratory. Her engagement party. A gathering of family, friends, and colleagues to toast the "next chapter" of her life. But as she adjusted the hem of her champagne colored dress, she couldn't shake the knot in her stomach.
Jason would be there, of course. Smiling that smug, self-satisfied smile, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look like the world had already bowed to his every whim. Rose tried to remind herself that she had spent months getting ready for this night, that the weight she had lost over the past year had started to show, and that her hair and makeup, though simple, were flawless. But as usual, doubt crept in.
"Do you need a hand?" her best friend, Lila Monroe, chirped from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. She was already dressed in a daring emerald gown, her dark hair cascading in waves over one shoulder. Her smile was wide, practiced, perfect. Rose forced a smile back.
"I think I'm fine," Rose said, tugging at the neckline of her dress. "I just… need a minute."
Lila stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You look beautiful, Rose. Really. He's going to be blown away."
Rose's lips twitched, but she didn't quite believe her. She remembered the way Jason had laughed at her last month when she had tried on a dress for dinner, muttering something about "maybe next time it'll actually fit."
She shook the thought away, trying to focus on the evening ahead. Her heart thudded, a mix of nervous excitement and dread.
The Harper residence was buzzing when Rose arrived. Guests in glittering gowns and sleek suits murmured polite congratulations to Jason and Rose, though Rose felt more like an exhibit than a fiancée.
Jason greeted her at the entrance, his hand brushing hers just enough to remind her he was in control. "You look… nice," he said, his tone flat, almost dismissive. "That dress isn't exactly what I expected."
Rose blinked, forcing her composure. "Thank you," she said softly, letting the words slide off her like water. But inside, a sting of humiliation pricked her chest. "Not what you expected." Of course. Nothing ever was.
Jason glanced around the room, then back at her. "Maybe you should consider losing a few more pounds before the wedding. You know… so it's perfect."
Rose's chest tightened. She clenched her fists at her sides, biting back the words she had rehearsed over and over in the mirror. Seven years. Seven years of enduring these cutting remarks, this subtle erosion of her confidence, masked as concern. She forced a polite smile. "I'll… keep that in mind," she said, her voice quieter than she wanted.
Jason didn't respond, already turning to greet a group of colleagues who had just arrived. Rose followed behind, trying to smooth her dress and her nerves simultaneously. She could feel Lila at her side, whispering, "Ignore him. You look amazing." But the words felt hollow when the man she was supposed to marry had spent the better part of a decade making her feel like she was never enough.
The party continued, laughter echoing off the high ceilings, champagne glasses clinking, and waiters offering food that Rose barely tasted. Her mind was a storm of thoughts she couldn't silence.
Why do I put up with this? she wondered, scanning the room. Jason laughed at some joke from one of his friends, his arm draped casually over Lila's shoulder.
Rose froze, feeling a sudden, sharp jolt of betrayal that she couldn't yet name. The way Lila leaned in, laughing too easily, too intimately, set her teeth on edge. Something about it felt wrong, but she tried to brush it off, telling herself it was nothing, just nerves, just paranoia. But deep down, a quiet voice whispered a warning she couldn't ignore.
By the time the speeches started, Rose had taken refuge in a quiet corner, clutching her champagne glass like a lifeline. Jason stood at the podium, grinning at the assembled guests, and began speaking.
"…and of course, I couldn't be happier to have Rose by my side. Seven years she's tolerated me, supported me, and well, we all know, sometimes she's been… a little… heavier than ideal," Jason said, glancing pointedly at Rose. Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Rose felt her face heat, her chest tightening as if someone had squeezed it too hard. Lila's smile was just a fraction too wide. She realized then that this wasn't just a careless remark; it was intentional. A performance for everyone else to see.
"Excuse me," Rose said, her voice trembling despite her best effort at composure. She turned, almost bumping into a waiter, and made her way toward the exit.
Jason called after her, "Don't be like that! It was a joke!"
But Rose couldn't stay. Every step toward the door felt like shedding years of humiliation, every heartbeat screaming that she deserved better, that she deserved respect.
Outside, the cool night air hit her like a balm. She breathed in deeply, trying to steady herself. Lights from the party spilled through the windows behind her, golden and unreachable. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down.
A message from someone:
"Meet me in the garden later. I need to talk."
Rose's stomach twisted. Something in her gut whispered that this wasn't the friendly concern Lila pretended. Every instinct told her to ignore it, to leave, to vanish entirely.
But curiosity, or maybe the last shred of trust she had in her so-called best friend, pushed her forward.