“That’s amazing!” I grinned, stretching out on my couch. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
There was a pause. Just a beat too long
Then he said it.
“Nancy.”
“Wait,” I said slowly, my stomach twisting. “Nancy who?”
“From high school. You know her.”
Oh, I knew her. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The room felt too small.
“She’s amazing,” my brother continued, oblivious. “We met a couple years ago through mutual friends, and I swear, it was like—instant connection. She’s sweet, she’s funny, she—”
“She bullied me.”
Silence.
“She made my life miserable,” I said, my voice sharp. “You never saw it because she was nice to you. But to me?” I swallowed. “She was awful.”
He hesitated. “I mean… I guess kids can be mean sometimes, but that was forever ago. People change.”
I closed my eyes. Do they?
“Look, I really want you to come to the engagement party,” Matt said, his tone softening. “It would mean a lot to me.”
I should have said no. But I didn’t.
I told myself I was over it. That I was an adult. That people change.
I repeated those words like a mantra as I walked into my brother’s engagement party, trying to ignore the unease creeping up my spine. The restaurant was upscale, filled with warm lighting, clinking glasses, and the hum of polite conversation. My brother spotted me first, grinning as he crossed the room.
“You made it!” He pulled me into a hug, his excitement genuine.
“Of course,” I said, though my stomach churned.
Then I saw her.
Nancy stood by the bar, a champagne glass poised delicately in one hand, looking as polished and perfect as ever. She turned, and the moment her gaze met mine, a slow smile stretched across her face.
“Wow,” she sighed, tilting her head slightly. “You actually showed up.”
Her tone was light, almost teasing, but I knew better.
“I did,” I replied evenly, keeping my voice calm.
She gave me a once-over, her lips twitching like she was holding back laughter. “You always did surprise me.”
I forced a polite smile and walked past her, pretending not to hear the small, amused breath she let out.
But that was just the beginning.
Nancy had perfected the art of the insult disguised as kindness.
“I love that you’re still rocking the same haircut from high school! Not everyone can pull off nostalgia.”
“I heard you’re still single? That’s so freeing, right? No one to check in with, no expectations.”
Each comment was delivered with a bright smile, her voice sugary sweet, just enough plausible deniability to make me look like the overly sensitive one if I reacted. At one point, as the room buzzed with conversation, she leaned in close, her voice low enough that no one else could hear.
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