My Future Daughter Canceled My Wedding

We were huddled around a low marble table, a halfempty bottle of gin between us, trying to play matchmaker for my best friend and her crush.

A few drinks in, the toy liedetector was placed in front of my boyfriend, Garrett.

Smiling, I leaned in and asked a question I thought was harmless: "If we ever have a baby, what would you want to name her?" Without a second of hesitation, Garrett blurted out, "Ellie." My name is Brielle.

To me, "Ellie" sounded like the sweetest, most tender diminutive he could have chosen for me—a soft play on the syllables of my own name. The green light flashed. It was the truth.

A warm flush rushed to my cheeks. Our friends erupted into cheers, clinking their glasses and teasing us about domestic bliss.

Even my best friend, Ella, draped her arm around my shoulders, her eyes shining with what looked like pure envy. "I was so against you two dating at first," she whispered, her breath warm against my neck. "But look at you now.

You're so happy it almost makes me regret it." At the time, I thought she was just being sentimental, watching her best friend settle into a stable, loving relationship.

I didn't think twice about the slight edge in her voice. Until Memorial Day weekend, the very day we were supposed to meet Garrett's parents to discuss our wedding plans.

I was in my apartment when my phone rang—a call from an unknown, heavily staticlaced number.

The voice on the other end was a little girl, sobbing, claiming to be my daughter from five years in the future.

Heart hammering, caught between amusement and a strange, cold dread, I played along and asked her that same question. "Sweetie, is your name Ellie?

Are Mommy and Daddy happy?" But the little girl didn't giggle. Instead, her voice cracked, dissolving into a ragged, desperate sob. "No!

We're not happy at all!" "Mommy cries every single day. Daddy is always running off to take care of Aunt Ella's daughter.

I hate them so much!" … Hearing those words felt like a physical blow to my chest. Aunt Ella. Out of everyone in my life, there was only one person that could refer to.

But the implication was too absurd, too devastating to contemplate.

I dug my fingernails into my palms, my teeth chattering as I forced the next words out of my throat. "Sweetie... is the Aunt Ella you're talking about... is she Ella Dawson?" It was the most horrifying question I could ask, yet I had to hear it.

The little girl's crying only intensified. "Yes, her! Daddy's computer is full of files with Aunt Ella's name on them. Mommy, please, can we just leave him?

Please?" A sharp, highpitched ringing filled my ears. My brain went entirely numb.

Before I could press her for more, loud, violent shouting erupted in the background of the call. "Garrett, if you walk out that door to see Ella again today, I swear I will kill myself right in front of you!" The male voice that replied was cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of the warmth I had grown to love.

It was a stranger's voice. "Then go ahead and do it!" Garrett's voice spat. "You're so fucking hysterical all the time—no wonder your mother walked out on you.

If I had known you'd turn into this nightmare, I never would have broken up with Ella in the first place!" The little girl's quiet whimpering broke into a terrified wail.

Then came the thunderous slam of a front door, followed by the agonizing shatter of glass, and my own voice—screaming from five years in the future. "Why?

Why can't I ever have your heart?" "Garrett! I hate you!" My breath caught. I couldn't move. I expected the line to go dead, but the feed kept running.

Then came a desperate, frantic plea from the child. "Mommy! Don't take those pills! Please, Mommy, it's my fault!

Don't die, please!" "If I knew, I'd rather never have been born!" The sound of a mother and daughter weeping, clinging to each other in absolute despair, echoed clearly through the speaker.

A suffocating wave of pain washed over me. It wasn't just Garrett's betrayal; it was Ella's, too. The line finally went dead.

I slowly lowered my phone, staring blankly at the wall as hot, silent tears began to track down my face. Every word from that call felt like a scalpel carving into my chest.

My throat felt tight, like someone was choking me. And then, my screen lit up with a text from Garrett. Babe, I got the Memorial Day gift baskets for your parents.

They're already in the trunk. I'm going to be a little late, though. I need to drop off Ella's basket first.

It's on the way, so I figured I'd just pick her up and bring her to the restaurant with us. I stared at the message.

I had been playing a supporting role in my own love story, sharing a crowded stage without even realizing it. If that was the case, I was choosing to step off the stage entirely.

I didn't reply to his text. Instead, I drafted an email to my landlord, requesting to terminate my lease early.

I pulled my suitcase out from the closet and began packing my life away, piece by piece.

Every framed photo, every card, every little trinket Garrett had ever bought me went straight into a heavyduty trash bag, which I hauled down to the dumpster.

When I walked back inside, the late May air felt biting and cruel. Or maybe it was just my heart freezing over.

For the two years Garrett and I had been together, we were inseparable, completely wrapped up in each other.

Everyone in our social circle talked about us as "endgame." Everyone except Ella, who constantly whispered doubts in my ear, criticizing his flaws.

I had always assumed they just didn't get along. Yet, whenever Garrett and I planned a date night, Ella somehow always ended up tagging along.

Garrett had complained about it at first, but gradually, he grew used to her presence.

To the point where now, buying a holiday gift basket for my family automatically meant buying one for Ella, too. I used to think it was sweet.

I felt relieved that my boyfriend and my best friend were finally putting aside their differences. But now, the harsh words from that future call echoed in my mind.

My mother had run off with a wealthy man when I was only two years old. When I met Ella in high school, she took on a protective, almost maternal role in my life.

I trusted her implicitly. I opened my message history with Garrett and began scrolling backward. The evidence was hiding in plain sight.

June 1st: [Got you a necklace, and a bracelet for Ella. Happy June!] Now that I thought about it, Ella's gift was a beautiful, sparkling Swarovski crystal bracelet.

The necklace I was wearing felt cheap in comparison—almost like a free giftwithpurchase that came with her bracelet. February 14th: [Happy Valentine's Day, babe.

Booked the flights and hotel for the three of us. Make sure you set an alarm so we don't miss our flight.] A Valentine's Day trip.

Ella hadn't even asked to come, yet Garrett had automatically booked her a ticket without a second thought. I kept scrolling.

Her name was woven into every plan, every conversation, every weekend. He was used to it, and I had been brainwashed into accepting it. I had been completely blind.

A tear splashed onto the screen, blurring the text. I blinked it away and looked up, my gaze landing on the framed photo on my nightstand.

It was from our Valentine's trip to Savannah. In the photo, I was standing in the middle, smiling brightly at the camera. Ella and Garrett stood on either side of me.

But looking closely now, a detail I had never noticed before jumped out at me. The puzzle pieces finally clicked together. They were both slightly angled toward the center.

But if I blocked my own figure out with my thumb, it was obvious. They weren't looking at the camera. Their eyes were locked on each other.

I opened the shared digital album on my phone. The reality was almost comical. Out of the three hundred and one photos, nearly all of them featured the three of us.

And at the very bottom of the album was a solo shot of Ella. In every group photo, I was the buffer in the middle.

If you cropped me out of any of them, they looked like a couple in deep, silent conversation. A violent wave of nausea hit me.

I stumbled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom, and collapsed over the toilet, dryheaving. It was sick. It was so incredibly sick.

In the middle of my panic, my phone began to buzz. Garrett's caller ID flashed on the screen. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice, and answered.

But it wasn't Garrett on the line. It was Ella. "Brielle! We're almost at your building. Get ready to come down! You have five minutes. Put on something gorgeous!

Today is your big day." Before I could say a word, she hung up. Right. If she hadn't reminded me, I would have forgotten.

Today was the formal dinner where my dad was supposed to meet Garrett's parents.

And even on a day as intimate and critical as this, Ella had positioned herself to attend as part of my "family." I dragged myself up and stared at my reflection.

My face was pale, but my features were still striking. I looked hollow.

I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that the broken, screaming woman on the phone from five years in the future was actually me.

I quickly splashed cold water on my face and put on minimal makeup. I unclasped the cheap necklace Garrett had given me and tossed it onto the vanity.

Hearing a car horn honk outside, I grabbed my purse and went downstairs. The moment I got into the back seat, Ella turned around and began to lecture me. "Brielle, what is this?

I told you to dress up!

Why are you wearing something so plain?" As she spoke, she reached naturally into the glove compartment, pulling out a tube of lipstick and offering it to me.

Garrett glanced over from the driver's seat with a chuckle. "Ella, stop trying to corrupt my girlfriend. That shade is way too loud.

It doesn't suit Brielle." My hand froze halfway to the tube. I kept my voice light, casual. "How do you know what shade she wears, Garrett?" Garrett didn't even blink.

His tone was perfectly easy. "I bought that lipstick, remember? I got you both one. You were the one who complained your shade didn't suit you.

Ella's always been into those classic reds and plums." My hands began to tremble again.

This was a man who couldn't even remember that I preferred tea over coffee, yet he had memorized Ella's favorite lipstick shades. But I didn't say anything.

I simply withdrew my hand. "Never mind. It really doesn't suit me. I'll stick to my own." I stared at the back of their heads.

Only now did I notice that they were wearing matching vintage leather jackets—the exact same brand, the exact same shade of chestnut brown. They looked like a couple in a catalog.

They had bought them while shopping together, and I had foolishly cheered them on, thinking nothing of it. Ella had even posted a picture of them on her Instagram.

The more I recalled the past, the deeper my nails bit into my palms. It was only the sharp pinch of physical pain that brought me back to reality.

The car pulled up to the restaurant—a cozy Italian bistro we frequented. Staring at the sign, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Ella's Instagram archive.

She had posted a photo of this exact place a few months ago. The caption read: Obsessed with the truffle gnocchi here! If I could eat this every day, I'd die happy.

While I was looking at my phone, Garrett had already hopped out and opened the passenger door for Ella.

As she stepped out, he reached out with natural familiarity and touched her forehead. "How was the ride? You didn't get carsick, did you?" Ella playfully swatted his hand away.

She rolled her eyes, but her expression was soft, teasing. Ordinarily, I would have made a joke about them bickering like siblings, laughing along to keep the peace.

But now, I saw Garrett's reaction. He didn't look annoyed at all. He just looked at her with pure, indulgent affection.

They started walking toward the entrance before realizing I hadn't even opened my door. Garrett looked back, frowning. "Brielle, you coming?" He was standing only a few feet away.

But in our two years together, I had never felt so utterly distant from him. He didn't make any move to walk back and open the door for me. I opened it myself and stepped out.

I walked a step ahead of them. They fell into step behind me, whispering and laughing about some inside joke. The entire walk inside was filled with their playful banter.

I didn't say a single word. When we sat down at the table, Garrett naturally took the middle seat in the booth.

He had always claimed he sat in the middle so he could easily pass dishes to both of us. Now I realized it was just a pathetic excuse to slide closer to Ella.

Our parents hadn't arrived yet. Garrett handed me the digital tablet menu. "Go ahead and order whatever you and your dad want.

You two are always so picky." I looked at the preselected items in the cart. Almost every single dish was something Ella loved. I didn't argue.

I just added a couple of side dishes. After all, I wasn't the real lead in this play anymore. Garrett didn't even look at what I added.

He just tapped "confirm" and waved the waiter over. A few minutes later, Garrett's parents arrived. We all stood up to greet them.

But before I could even introduce myself, Garrett's mother walked straight past me, wrapping her arms around Ella. "Ella! I knew it was you.

Didn't you tell me you and Garrett broke up? I knew you two couldn't stay apart for long.

Oh, sweetie, I'm so thrilled to see you!" An uncomfortable, suffocating silence fell over the table. Garrett and Ella's faces went pale with embarrassment.

I stood there, watching them quietly. His mother was still holding Ella's hand, beaming.

Even though I had always known they dated briefly in college, seeing his mother treat Ella as the default daughterinlaw was a different kind of pain.

But as I stood there witnessing it, I realized I felt completely, utterly numb. Garrett didn't try to clarify things for his mother.

He just gently guided her to sit down across from us. Noticing the look on my face, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. "We'll talk about this later.

It's not what you think." I looked at him and smiled softly. "It's fine. You don't have to explain. I trust you." Garrett stared at me, trying to read my expression.

Relieved by my easy response, he let out a breath and sat back. The food arrived, filling the table. But my dad still hadn't shown up. We sat in awkward silence for twenty minutes.

Garrett's parents were beginning to look annoyed. Only their fondness for Ella kept them from complaining out loud.

Garrett leaned over, his voice tight. "Brielle, does your dad not like me? Is that why he's blowing us off? If he has an issue, give me his number. I'll call him myself.

I worked so hard to set this up. Can you just get him here?" Even Ella chimed in, using that same patronizing, sisterly tone she always used with me. "Brielle, did your dad forget?

Or did you forget to tell him? I told you to doublecheck with him. You're always so disorganized." I looked at the two of them, and a slow, empty smile spread across my face. "No.

They'll be here any minute. Just wait." Right on cue, the heavy wooden door of the private dining room swung open.

But the people who walked in made everyone at the table freeze in sheer shock.

It was Ella's parents. "Ella," her mother said, looking around the room in confusion. "Why didn't you tell us you were finalizing your wedding plans today?

We had to hear it from Brielle!"