A Boy in the Video Called My Late Fiance Dad, Standing Before My Bestie’s Wedding Photo Chapter 03
I tapped into the account.
The first upload date made my stomach drop.
It really dated all the way back to high school.
The early videos were grainy and low quality. Julian and Vivian, both in school uniforms. Running across the football field. Sneaking handholds in the back row of a classroom.
I kept scrolling.
Halfway down the page, the uploads abruptly stopped.
The gap lasted exactly three years.
The same three years Julian had been with me.
Then, two months after Julian’s “death,” the account became active again.
The first comeback video showed Julian on a luxury yacht, down on one knee as he slipped a diamond ring onto Vivian’s finger.
The caption read:
[After all these years and all the detours, I’m grateful it was always you.]
My fingers moved mechanically as I continued scrolling.
The comments section was a battlefield.
Some people offered congratulations.
Others knew the truth.
One comment stood out like a knife to the chest.
[Julian, weren’t you dating Hazel? How did you end up with her best friend? You two are disgusting.]
The reply underneath had been posted by Julian himself.
It was even pinned to the top.
[Vivian is the only woman I’ve ever loved. Someone else was simply a mistake I made before I understood my own heart. The person who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.]
“The person who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.”
I bit down so hard on my lip that I tasted blood.
So that was all I’d been.
A practice run.
A stepping stone he used to figure out who he truly wanted.
I kept scrolling.
Ski trips.
Scuba diving vacations.
Skydiving adventures.
Vivian laughed freely in every video while Julian looked at her like she hung the moon.
And me?
During those same three years, I’d worked three jobs to help fund Julian’s startup.
I’d lived on plain noodles for an entire month just so I could afford to buy him one decent suit for investor meetings.
Then I noticed a pinned post at the top of the page.
A link to a long article titled:
[Confessions]
The cover labeled it as a novel.
But something inside me knew it was about me.
I clicked.
The story followed someone identified only as H.W.
It described the rest of her life.
Not the past.
The future.
A future that hadn’t happened yet.
A future that belonged to this timeline.
A few months from now, H.W. would discover evidence that Julian had faked his death.
She would confront him.
In their version of events, she would be the one who “went crazy.”
So they fought back.
Together, they destroyed her career.
My hands trembled as I read on.
My mother, desperate to seek justice for me, went to Julian’s company and begged for answers.
One of his wealthy friends accidentally ran over her with a sports car.
Both of her legs were crushed.
The next entry read:
[H.W.’s mother didn’t survive her injuries. After that, H.W. completely lost her mind.]
My hands began shaking.
Then I read the next line.
[One stormy night, she jumped from the twenty-eighth floor.]
Tears splashed onto the back of my hand.
At the very end of the journal, a final entry waited.
[H.W. is dead. We’re finally free. Yet somehow, we still feel like she didn’t deserve to die.]
I stared at the screen.
Tears splashed onto the back of my hand.
The little boy’s voice came from the video call.
“Miss, why are you crying again? Are you okay?”
I quickly wiped my face and forced a smile.
“I’m fine. Something just got in my eye.”
Taking a shaky breath, I asked, “When are your parents coming back?”
The boy answered obediently.
“Dad went to pick up Mom’s custom necklace. He’ll be back soon. Mom’s pregnant with my little sister, so the doctor told her not to move around too much. She’s resting in her room.”
Pregnant.
A perfect family of four.
Living happily ever after on top of the life they’d stolen from me.
I fought to keep my voice steady.
“Hey, sweetheart. When your dad gets back, could you use that phone to call me? I want to surprise him.”
The boy immediately brightened.
“Sure!”
I smiled.
Then ended the video call.
The screen went dark.
At that exact moment, my hospital room door opened.
My mother walked in carrying a thermos of homemade soup.
Her eyes were still red from crying.
The second I saw her standing there, alive and healthy, I broke.
I threw myself into her arms and sobbed.
She thought I was still grieving Julian.
Patting my back, she tried to comfort me.
“Hazel, let it out. Crying helps. The dead don’t come back. You have to move forward.”
I buried my face in her shoulder.
“Mom… I’m never going to love him again.”
And silently, I made a vow.
This time, I would never allow anyone to hurt my family.
After she left, I wiped away my tears.
Then I picked up my phone and called Vivian.
It rang three times before she answered.
