His First Love or Me—Who Will He Choose? I Refuse Chapter 01
At my engagement party, the groomsmen insisted on playing the Face ID Trust Challenge.
The bride had to recognize the groom’s phone, then unlock his phone with her face. If it worked, they were meant to be.
I blushed and asked my fiancé, Fred Harris, “Wanna play?”
He thought it was a hassle. But with everyone pushing him, he pulled out his phone.
When the phone scanned my face, the screen stayed black. It felt like a slap in the face.
Someone tried to smooth things over.
“Maybe the bride’s makeup is too heavy today.”
Then the groomsmen, snickering, nudged a woman forward from the crowd.
The second Fred laid eyes on her, his grip on the phone tightened. His gaze flicked to her face for a split second, sharp and unguarded, before he could school his expression.
She barely stepped closer. The phone lit up.
The lock screen popped up.
It was a candid shot. Her eighteenth birthday photo.
***
The room went dead quiet for a few seconds.
Then the groomsmen broke out in teasing whistles.
“Damn, Fred’s phone knows what it wants!”
The woman got nudged right into Fred’s arms.
He caught her waist like instinct.
I stood on the stage. Like a prop they’d put up for laughs.
The host had synced Fred’s phone to the big screen earlier, so every guest could get a clear view of the unlock result.
So the lock screen got projected for the whole room.
The girl in the photo stood by an old basketball court. She was dressed in a white school uniform, the wind sweeping her bangs away from her forehead.
A line of text underneath:
[To Tina at eighteen. May you always be someone’s favorite.]
Favorite. It felt like a tiny nail driving straight into my chest.
I’d been with Fred for nine years.
Birthdays. Anniversaries. Valentine’s Day.
Most of his gifts were bought by his assistant.
The cards always said the same boring things.
[Happy birthday. Thanks for everything. Buy whatever you want.]
Like a boss approving an expense report.
I used to make excuses for him. He’s just not good with words, I told myself.
I believed that for nine years.
Turns out romance wasn’t a language he couldn’t learn. I just never got the translation.
“Who is she?” My voice came out soft.
One of the groomsmen, Martin, slapped his palm to his forehead, as if he’d only just remembered I was still standing right there.
“Don’t overthink it, Lydia.”
“She’s Tina White. Fred’s high school classmate.”
He paused. Then added with a low laugh.
“The girl Fred nearly dated back in high school.”
I looked at Tina.
She bit her lip and whispered, “Miss Jones, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Freddie still had that photo.”
Freddie. She said it so naturally, like the name belonged right on her lips.
Fred finally turned off the screen.
He looked at me. Frowning.
“It’s just a game. Don’t make it a thing.”
I smiled. “Just a game?”
I took the host’s microphone. My voice came through the speakers.
“Fred, why is her face registered on your phone?”
His expression went cold. “She used my phone once. I added her face then and forgot to delete it.”
“And the lock screen?”
“I never got around to switching it out.”
Right then, his phone lit up again.
The big screen hadn’t been disconnected.
A smart home notification popped up.
[Owner Miss Tina White. Welcome home voice command set.]
The room went completely silent.
I stared at those words.
Owner Miss Tina White. Welcome home.
This was the house Fred and I shared. I’d personally supervised the renovations. I dragged myself to home improvement stores and stayed up till 3 a.m. tweaking the floor plans.
My access level on the smart lock was listed as: [Guest, Lydia Jones]
I asked him about it. He said it was the system default. Not important.
Turns out it was very important.
The spot for “owner” was already taken.
Tina went pale. “Fred, I didn’t know that was still set.”
Fred grabbed his phone and cut the screen share.
But it was too late. Everyone had already seen.
Slowly, I took off my engagement ring.
In front of every guest in the room, I dropped it into the tallest glass of the champagne tower.
Fred’s voice was tight.
“Lydia, don’t make a scene.”
I looked at him. “Fred. Who’s really making a scene here?”
Tina suddenly grabbed the table edge. “Fred, I feel dizzy.”
He turned immediately. “Where does it hurt?”
Martin shoved his car keys into Fred’s hand.
“I’ll handle things here. Get Tina somewhere to rest.”
I kept my eyes on Fred. He wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“I’m just taking her out,” he said. “Lydia. Wait here. I’ll explain later.”
I didn’t say anything. I watched him walk Tina out of the banquet hall.
I stood alone amid the roses and fairy lights, the room buzzing with quiet whispers all around me. No one stepped forward.
