0927 Was Her Birthday, Not Ours Chapter 01
The night before we were supposed to get our marriage license, I was staying late at work, watching a lawyer’s livestream.
My best friend called in anonymously. “My boyfriend’s supposed to get his license with his fiancée tomorrow. But he loves me.”
The lawyer asked, “Then why’s he going through with it?”
She said, “If he doesn’t, she’ll lose it. She stuck with him five years while he played broke. Lost a baby. Sold her parents’ only house.”
I gripped my birth certificate and suddenly couldn’t breathe. Because tomorrow, I was the one getting that marriage license with Dylan Reese.
At the end of the call, my best friend laughed softly. “Dylan says he’ll give her a fake appointment page first. Keep her calm. Then slowly back out.”
I opened my phone. The County Clerk’s confirmation text was nowhere to be found.
***
The lawyer’s voice kept going on the stream. “You’re saying he faked the appointment page?”
Paige Holloway lowered her voice. “Not really faked. His friend made a page. She doesn’t know any better.”
I stared at the moderator panel.
An anonymous user had uploaded three screenshots.
First: the fake appointment page.
Second: a text from Dylan to Paige.
[Tomorrow I’ll take her near the Clerk’s Office first.]
[Don’t show up.]
[She’s not stable. After what happened with the baby, she can’t take a shock.]
Third: Paige’s reply. [Dylan, you’re so merciful to her.]
Merciful.
The word dug into my eyes.
The lawyer’s voice went flat. “Forging a government platform page. That’s legally risky.”
On the stream, Paige spoke again. “If she’s the one who calls off the license, then he’s not responsible, right?”
The lawyer said coldly, “Don’t lead the witness.”
Paige paused two seconds. “But Dylan doesn’t love her anymore. Her wanting a piece of paper is pointless.”
The lawyer asked, “Did the fiancée get a promissory note when she sold her house to pay his debts?”
Paige’s laugh got lighter. “She’s so dumb. Talking about money ruins the romance.”
My knuckles slammed against the desk corner. I didn’t feel it.
Five years.
I lived with Dylan in that Westside Dump with the leaky ceiling.
I’d hold a bucket under the drip at 2 a.m. while he hugged his laptop and said the creditors were calling again.
I handed over my debit card.
He said, “Sienna, when I turn things around, I’ll give you a home.”
I was six weeks pregnant, doubled over from the pain. Couldn’t stand.
He said the hospital deposit was too expensive. To wait.
Then I lost the baby.
He knelt by the bed, holding my hand.
He said, “It’s my fault.”
That same night, Paige posted a birthday cake.
Caption: [Someone drove all the way across town just to blow out my candles.]
I liked it at the time.
The livestream chat exploded.
[This guy is disgusting.]
[Poor girl.]
[She lost the baby and he’s still lying?]
Paige suddenly spoke again.
“Honestly, you can’t really blame him. He never loved her in the first place.”
“She just stuck around too long. Made Dylan feel bad dumping her.”
Paige’s screenshot froze on the screen.
Dylan’s profile picture — I was the one who took it.
He was wearing that faded white button-down, standing outside the rental on Maple Street.
I was crouched at his feet, wiping mud off his shoes.
He said, “Sienna, you’re so good. How am I ever going to pay you back?”
My coworker Megan poked her head over. “Sienna, you’re not leaving yet? Isn’t tomorrow your license day?”
“Just finishing up.”
“You work too hard. Your future husband’s gonna miss you.”
I smiled.
A text from Dylan lit up my phone.
[I’m downstairs.]
[Babe, don’t overwork yourself. Big day tomorrow.]
On the livestream, the lawyer asked Paige one last question. “Do you know who the fiancée is?”
Paige laughed lightly. “Yeah.”
“She’s my best friend.”
I raised my hand and hit record.
Dylan’s call came in. His voice was warm. “Sienna? You off work? I’m outside.”
Through the window, a brand-new black SUV sat at the curb. The plate ended in 0927, Paige’s birthday.
Five years ago, he said he’d gone bankrupt and sold his car.
Dylan stood by the car holding a bouquet of white roses.
He used to say white roses were cheap and foolproof.
He reached to hug me. “Big day tomorrow. Borrowed a coworker’s new whip to pick up my future wife. Come here!”
His jacket smelled like Paige’s usual perfume.
I reached up and pulled a long, curly yellow hair from inside his collar. Not mine.
Dylan looked down. “What’s wrong? You upset?”
I met his eyes. “I can’t find the appointment confirmation on the official site.”
He whipped out his phone. “System delay. That Clerk’s Office site is always glitching.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Dylan exhaled and opened my door.
I slid into the passenger seat. Something was under my foot.
An earring.
Pearl, silver back.
Paige had bought the exact same pair last year on her birthday. I was with her at the mall.
I bent down and picked it up. Dylan reached for it. “Probably fell off some coworker’s girlfriend.”
I dropped the earring into his palm. “Your coworker’s girlfriend has good taste.”
