Chapter 1: The Interview

I was halfway through microwaving leftovers when Rachel’s face flashed onto my phone screen—smiling, holding hands with someone who wasn’t me. The video was a street interview by a popular YouTuber, the kind that interrupts your scrolling with a sudden jolt. The host’s voice cut in over shots of city traffic and the wail of a distant siren: “What would you say to yourself five years ago?”

Rachel was standing on the sidewalk outside a coffee shop, her hair pulled into a neat ponytail and her fingers intertwined with Jason’s. He looked like he belonged in a college brochure—fresh-faced, effortlessly charming.

She fiddled with the hem of her cardigan, her smile shy and uncertain. Then, with a gentle, almost trembling voice, she looked up at Jason and the camera. “I wish the Rachel from five years ago could have met Jason earlier.”

Jason grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

The comments below the video poured in, a river of heart emojis and #couplegoals. [You two are so sweet!], [Manifesting a love like this], [So pure!], and people tagging friends: [You remind me of them!]. It was a love-fest so loud you could almost feel it through the screen.

But none of them knew that five years ago was the day Rachel and I got married. No one in that digital crowd had any idea. Five years ago, Rachel and I stood beneath a string of backyard lights and promised each other forever.

Even she herself had forgotten.

Until a week later.

I never expected to see my own face staring back at me, about to ruin Rachel’s perfect story. The YouTuber posted another street interview. This time, the camera caught me in the late afternoon sun, the glare bouncing off my glasses. I looked straight into the lens and said, calm as stone: “If possible, Melissa, don’t marry Rachel. You’ll regret it.”

This time, Rachel saw it.