It turned out everyone had known about Ryan and Claire all along—except me.
I grabbed the glass of water on the table and drained it in one go.
Just then, Claire walked in, frowning at the sound of their gossip.
"What are you all saying in front of my fiancé?"
She came over to me, wearing her usual sweet, caring expression.
"Ethan, don’t be upset. They were just practicing their French. They didn’t mean to leave you out."
The moment her hand brushed mine, a wave of disgust shot through me.
A second ago she had been fooling around with Ryan, and now she was playing the doting bride-to-be.
Everyone thought Claire loved me.
Once upon a time, I thought so too.
I calmly avoided her touch and, with a blank expression, said,
"The wedding is about to start. Go chat with them for a bit."
Claire didn’t think twice and turned back to her friends, speaking French again.
The group, emboldened after her scolding, teased her with mischievous smiles:
"Claire, you defend Ethan and still can’t stay away from Ryan. Who do you actually love?"
"Who says I can only love one? Ryan’s fun, but he’s not husband material. He’s just for playing around with."
Their laughter filled the room.