Selena stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the champagne-colored fabric that hugged her body like a whisper. The backless dress shimmered under the soft bedroom lights, and for a brief moment, she let herself feel beautiful and trying not to think too hard about how the night might unravel.
Behind her, Peter's voice floated in from the hallway.
"We're gonna be late if you keep perfecting what's already perfect," he said with that easy smile he used when he was trying to be sweet without trying too hard.
Selena offered a half-laugh, grabbing her earrings from the nightstand. "I'm ready."
Peter adjusted his collar in the mirror next to her. His eyes met hers for just a second, fleeting, but loaded with something. He looked good. Calm. But not quite himself.
They left in silence, the hum of the car filling the gaps between them. Neither said much during the drive, just exchanged occasional glances. Like two people who knew too much about each other to talk freely.
The restaurant Brian had picked was warm and candlelit, tucked into the edge of town where wine bars and bistros lined the street like polite, expensive secrets. Inside, laughter buzzed under clinking glasses and soft jazz. Friends from college, colleagues, distant cousins, the room glowed with celebration.
Selena smiled automatically, waved at familiar faces, and glided toward her parents' table. Her mother stood to hug her, and her father kissed her cheek, pulling her in with the same scent of aftershave he'd worn since she was a child.
"You look radiant, sweetheart," he said warmly.
"Thank you, Dad."
Peter slipped into the seat beside her with ease, offering nods and pleasantries. But when he glanced to the chair next to him, he froze.
A white card sat on the cloth napkin, handwritten in looping calligraphy: Jack Brooks.
Peter's breath hitched for a second, so small no one would notice unless they were watching for it.
His smile twitched, but he turned quickly to her father and asked him something about the vineyard he was always rambling on about, but his voice was tighter than usual. Carefully strained.
Then came a familiar voice behind him.
"James," Jack said, his tone warm and charming. "How've you been?"
Selena's father lit up. "Jack! There you are. I was just saying we haven't seen you around lately." They clasped hands, clapping each other's shoulders like old friends who hadn't shared any bad news.
Peter slowly turned, and Selena watched it unfold. Jack was standing there in a dark button-down, sleeves rolled up just enough, his smile easy, but his eyes scanning the table with just a flick of tension. He saw her silently. And she saw him. And Peter looked at both of them. It was less than five seconds, but it stretched in Selena's chest like an eternity. She gave Peter a look, sharp and cool, like ice over fire. Don't you fucking dare in my brother's birthday!
He blinked, nodded once, and went back to smiling at her mother.
For a while, it all went surprisingly smoothly.
Brian was beaming. He announced his engagement with his fiancée, Brianna, who was practically glowing. They stood together and gave a little toast, laughed over college stories, and clinked glasses with everyone at their long, flower-draped table. Jack slid into his seat and joined conversations, casual and confident. Selena kept her gaze moving, never letting it linger too long in any one direction.
Then came dinner.
The plates were delicate and expensive-looking, little clusters of food arranged like art. Selena picked at hers without much thought. Everything looked harmless: greens, some sauce, a few things she didn't bother naming. Until her stomach clenched. She frowned, pushed the plate away slowly. Her chest started to feel strange. Tight. Her skin itched faintly under her arms. Then, it became worse in a second; her stomach flipped violently.
Her breath caught. Her body tensed. No. No. Please not here.
She turned to Peter, pale. "I need the restroom."
She stood before he could respond, and with a hand pressed against her stomach, she slipped through the dining room and down the hallway, finding the bathroom like muscle memory. She barely got the door locked before her body betrayed her.
Forty-five minutes passed in painful waves.
Cramping. Nausea. Sweating. It wasn't dramatic, just humiliating. She knew what it was. There had been shrimp in the sauce. Tiny bits, maybe missed by the chef, or worse, careless cross-contamination. It didn't matter. Her allergy didn't care about the difference. By the time she pulled herself together, her face was damp and her legs shaky. Her dress clung too tightly now, and her mouth was dry. She stared at herself in the mirror. Red eyes. Pale lips. But she looked… okay.
She stepped back into the dining room, trying to rejoin the hum of clinking glasses and laughter, but the room had changed. It was quieter. Eyes turned toward her as she entered. Conversations paused. Someone dropped a fork.
Selena's heart dropped into her stomach, where pain still lingered, and then she saw why. Peter was on the stage with a microphone in hand. His tie was loosened, his blazer off, shirt sleeves rumpled. And he was smiling. The kind of smile that wasn't really a smile at all.
"Oh, there she is!" he announced, voice echoing through the speakers. "Everyone! Let's give a round of applause for the beautiful, my radiant, Selena!"
A few hesitant, uncomfortable whispers followed.
Selena froze in the middle of the room.
Peter leaned on the mic stand like it was holding him up. "Where've you been, Sel, huh? Where is Jack? You and Jack back there?"
His voice slurred, laced with venom and something worse, betrayed pride. "He making you come again?"
The room gasped.
Selena's mouth dropped open.
Jack, who had just reentered from the side hallway, froze mid-step.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" someone muttered from another table.
"Peter, stop it," Brianna hissed from near the cake table, her face going white.
But Peter kept talking. Like he couldn't stop. Or didn't care.
"Yeah, that's right. Everyone's too polite to say it, but let me just help you all out. My wife here—" he gestured wildly at Selena, "has been screwing our family friend. You remember Jack, right? Yeah, the guy who's supposed to be like a brother to Brian. Great guuuuuuy."
Jack stepped forward. "Peter, that's enough."
"No," Peter snapped, eyes wild. "You don't get to talk right now. You already had your moment, probably had several moments, in the fucking guest room, huh?"
Selena's legs wouldn't move. She just stood there, eyes burning.
Her parents were silent. Brian looked stunned. Brianna had her hand over her mouth.
And then Peter said the one thing that shattered it all.
"You said yes to an open marriage," he shouted. "You said we could do this. So what, it's only fair if you get to fall in love with someone else, too?"
That word. Love.
Selena felt it hit her like cold water.
Jack looking at her from across the room. He hadn't touched her, but his glance felt like a shield. Her breath came short and tight.
Peter stepped down from the stage slowly. His face twisted in something between fury and regret, but mostly alcohol.
"We never agree on open marriage....." he muttered, his voice lower now.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful. It was thick and wary.
Brian finally stood. His face was unreadable. He looked between all of them, his sister, his best friend, and the man she was married to.
"I think," Brian said carefully, "we've had enough entertainment for tonight."
The crowd slowly stirred. Murmurs. Shuffling chairs. Some guests are quietly leaving.
Peter sat down heavily at the table, burying his face in his hands.
Selena looked around. At her parents. At her friends, she didn't know anymore. At the truth, now too bright to be ignored. Everyone knows now.