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Most people who'd been at Marcus's wedding had held back, as Gerald and Patricia had demanded.
But one teenager had posted his shaky, blurry phone video on a whim — terrible quality, forgotten almost immediately.
Until internet strangers started paying close attention to it.
Then it went viral overnight.
The comments poured in:
Started watching this thinking it was a standard cheating scandal. Turned out the groom was the one who'd chased the "other woman" first. Then turns out the other woman is the bride's gay best friend. This is better than anything on television.
Is anyone else losing their mind over the current fiancé? Handsome, clearly loaded, and genuinely devoted for years — but honestly I don't even need to be jealous, my husband pretends in public that he gave me nothing and asked for nothing in return, acts like I begged him to marry me, meanwhile at home he does all the cooking and gave me everything I asked for.
Wedding of the year.
Marcus's workplace found the thread.
His firm decided to part ways with him.
With his career gone, the matchmaking was even harder. He stopped trying.
He spent most of his time in his childhood bedroom. Playing games.
His parents had no idea what to do with him. They were exhausted.
And Owen and I settled into our life together.
Quiet. Warm. Ordinary in the best sense.
I worked hard and eventually found a better opportunity. I transferred firms, built steadily, and two years later I was promoted to department manager.
The next time I saw Marcus was across a conference table.
I was one of the interviewers. He was the candidate.
He recognised me the moment he walked in. Something left his face.
The HR lead asked him the first question. He stumbled over the answer. Stumbled over the second one too.
Then he stopped entirely.
He turned to me, eyes red.
"Vera. I'm sorry. I know now how completely wrong I was."
"I genuinely hope you're happy. And if Owen ever treats you badly — I'll always be here."
I let out a short, cold laugh.
"Drop the wounded act. It doesn't suit you."
"And I don't need you worrying about me. Owen and I are doing beautifully, thank you."
"As for waiting for me — you're not waiting. You simply can't find anyone. Please choose your words carefully."
Every sentence landed exactly where I aimed it.
Marcus's face went white.
But he wanted the job. So he swallowed it, and pushed through the rest of the interview in a careful, deferential voice.
I let him finish. I asked a few more questions. I watched him work for every word.
Then I set down my pen.
"Don't wait by the phone."
Marcus looked up sharply. His eyes lit with hope.
I slid his résumé across the table and let it drop.
"You're not what we're looking for. Interview's over."
Marcus gripped the table edge, knuckles going pale.
"Vera Thorne — you set me up again—"
Security arrived before he could finish the sentence.
Marcus was removed.
And my world was finally, completely clean.