The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride

His gaze was clear... they had to talk about this madness again. Claire didn’t seem to mind his abrupt exit. She simply floated further into the room as he left and flopped down onto the couch near Suzy’s bed. She crossed one long, perfectly toned leg over the other. "I heard from your mother," she began, her tone deceptively light, "that you haven’t been yourself lately. Moping. She’s worried." Suzy blinked, then let out a derisive snort, burying her frustration in the familiar dynamic. "Why are you still coming to our house and acting all chummy with her? Don’t you have your own life?" Claire arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Because I’ll be your sister-in-law someday. I’m investing in family relations." Suzy rolled her eyes so hard she saw spots. "Keep dreaming. Isn’t it clear enough that Wilson doesn’t like you? Like, at all?" A knowing smile curled Claire’s lips. "Oh, I know." The admission, so blunt and unconcerned, caught Suzy off guard. She straightened up a little, eyeing the other woman with newfound curiosity. "...Then why are you still coming around? It’s pathetic." Claire shrugged, a careless, elegant motion. "Maybe because I’m bored? Or I have free time? Or maybe—" she leaned back, her smirk deepening— "I just genuinely like spending time with your mother. She has delicious gossip. And better taste in wine than mine." Suzy gaped, then groaned, falling back against her mountain of pillows. "You’re literally jobless." Claire laughed, a light, tinkling sound that didn’t reach her eyes. She tossed her honey-blonde hair over her shoulder. "Technically, you’re the jobless one, darling. My father’s finally opening a position for me at the company. Director of Client Aesthetics. I start next week. So you’ll be seeing less of me." She delivered the news like she was bestowing a gift. Suzy sat bolt upright. "For real?" The prospect of a Claire-free existence was the best news she’d heard all week. But also... Claire getting to work... "Mmhm." Claire inspected her flawless manicure, visibly enjoying Suzy’s reaction. "Which is why, Suzy, maybe it’s time you also... did something with yourself? Found a purpose? Can’t just be the family’s pretty, pampered secret forever." "I am trying," Suzy shot back, her brows knitting together defensively. The comment hit a nerve. Hard. "Then try harder," Claire said sweetly, her voice a velvet-wrapped barb. "I even joked with your mother during our morning jog that you could just start training for the Olympics. Swimming, perhaps. You were always a fish in the pool. She absolutely gushed about how amazing you were at the event, bringing home a gold medal. I’m proud of you, my little girl." Suzy scoffed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest like a shield. "Ridiculous." The word was muffled. Claire’s family and hers were old money, their histories intertwined like gnarled tree roots. Claire was two years older than her and Wilson, a gap that had felt insignificant when they were children building forts but had widened into a chasm of differing values and sharp-edged rivalry as adults. But one thing remained... her parents love for Claire. She was just the kind of person who was so annoying but you couldn’t fully hate. "And oh—" Claire’s tone shifted, the playful tone replaced by genuine, sharp curiosity. "—speaking of winning things, I heard through the most delicious grapevine that Aurora won both the relay and the individual race at the event. For real?" Her eyes flicked up from her nails, sharp and probing, waiting for Suzy’s reaction. "Yes," she said, her voice smooth as glass, not missing a beat. "Aurora was... surprisingly competent. A good runner." Claire let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Hah! I always thought that girl could do nothing else except look pale and be an annoying witch. Honestly, I wished she’d tripped at the finish line and sprained her ankle... better yet, just never walk again." The venom in her voice was casual, practiced. Suzy’s brows pinched together. This wasn’t their usual, playful mean-girl banter. The tone was acidic, personal. She tilted her head, genuinely curious. "Why do you even hate Aurora so much? Did she personally run over your dog or something?"

Claire gave her a look as though the answer were written on the sun. "You don’t remember high school? My senior year? Come on, I must have told you!" Suzy shrugged, wracking her brain. "We were like in different schools and grades. How can I remember any detail you shared then? What about it?" Claire leaned forward, animated now, a decade-old indignation fueling her. "But you remember I used to have a crush on Hardy?" Suzy thought about it and went, "Oh... yeah! That." Claire nodded. "Good." Then she went into it. "The day I planned to confess to Hardy. I had everything ready, Suzy—the imported lilies, my speech written on stationery, a new hair style. I was going to do it after chemistry. And then, right as the bell rang, Aurora suddenly starts wheezing, gasping for air, and collapses. Right there in the hallway. Drama of the century." Suzy blinked. "...What? Why?" "And guess who got scolded by Mr. Hemsworth for ’causing a disruption with frivolous flowers’?" Claire barreled on, her voice rising. "Me! As if I could have possibly known the little ghost was allergic to pollen! I was even forced to go apologize to her." The memory clearly still burned. "I went to the clinic later to check, to see if she was even for real, only to find Hardy already there, sitting beside her bed, holding her hand like some prince out of a drama. I swear to God, she faked the whole thing just to steal the moment. To steal him from me." "Wait." Suzy lifted a hand, stopping the torrent of vitriol. A single, solid fact had broken through the rant. "Aurora... was allergic to pollen? Seriously allergic?"