Chapter 2Tears for Content

I looked back toward my mother. "Mom, why didn't you tell me?"

"Of course we had to keep you in the dark," she said, smoothing her jacket with a smug little air. "If you knew, where would the raw reaction be? For this whole production, I had to call everyone on the list one by one to coordinate. Your uncle even traded shifts with a coworker."

Zoe linked her arm through Ethan’s, stepping up to the base of the stage.

"Sis, you didn't actually think he was going to marry you today, did you? It’s all for the channel. It’s scripted!" She giggled, pitching her voice up. "And you actually went up there to bow—mom had to hire those people in the second row just to fill the seats!"

I looked at Ethan. The memory of last night was raw—him sitting on the edge of the bed, helping me practice my vows line by line, his voice low and tender.

"If you didn't want to marry me, why let me go through all of this? Why make me prep a wedding?"

Before he could answer, Zoe’s lower lip wobbled, her eyes welling up with convincing moisture.

"Because he wants to marry me, Sarah. That photo wasn't a joke." She stepped forward, reaching out to press my palm against the small curve of her stomach. "Be a good sister and let us be. I’m pregnant."

I jerked my hand away as if I’d been burned, staring at Ethan with a cold, ringing numbness in my ears.

"How long?"

My mother let out a heavy, practiced sigh, stepping in to pat my shoulder. "Don’t take it so hard, honey. At least with Ethan, we’re all still family."

My head snapped toward her, every muscle in my neck locking tight. "What do you mean, still family? You all conspired to pull off a fake wedding just to shove me aside for my sister?"

The air in the hall went dead. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Then Ethan chuckled, breaking the tension, and reached out to give the back of Zoe’s head a playful tap.

"Alright, are you still playing the part? The cameras are off, you can drop the act."

Zoe wiped an imaginary tear, her laughter bubbling right back up. "Who knew she’d fall for the exact same trick twice?"

My mother crossed her arms, shaking with silent mirth. "She’s never had your street smarts, Zoe. Believes every word anyone tells her. If we didn't look out for her, she’d get scammed out of her apartment by sundown."

I stood there, my fingers tangled in the heavy fabric of the designer gown I’d spent months altering.

Mom always said I lacked Zoe’s common sense. Yet I was the one who earned a master’s degree. I was the one who landed a stable job at a major tech firm and wired money home for their mortgage every single month.

Ethan crossed the room, dropping down to one knee to straighten the hem of my ruined dress.

"Come on, look at the real surprise now." He held out his phone.

The screen showed a sun-drenched coastal lawn blanketed in pink peonies, anchored by a simple white wooden arbor against the ocean. It was the exact venue I’d showed him six months ago—the one he had dismissed as "too much work," causing me to drop the subject entirely.

"I booked it half a year ago," he murmured, looking up through his lashes. "Our real wedding is next month. Aren't you excited?"

I stared at the glowing pixels. He knew every single detail of what I wanted for the day we actually tied the knot—yet he didn't care that turning my humiliation into clickbait would break my heart.

Ethan reached up, his thumb brushing toward my wet cheek, but I turned my head, letting his hand hit empty air.

"Don't."

"Alright, stop sulking. Once you decompress, we can sit down and go over the details for next month."

"What details? Which parts are real, and which parts are just more content?"

"I swear to God, this time is real. The venue, the flights—they’re locked in."

Before I could speak, my mother stepped in, her mouth set in a hard line. "The man put in all this effort, and instead of being grateful, you’re throwing a tantrum?"

She stepped closer, dropping her voice to a harsh hiss.

"Ethan’s channel brings in the views, which means more brand deals, which means more money for your future together. Can't you see the bigger picture?"

I looked down at my shoes, silent. To them, it was just content creation. My dignity was just collateral damage in an algorithm.

Ethan’s hand found mine, his skin warm. "Sarah, let’s go get some food. You haven’t eaten since dawn."

I pulled my hand back, inch by inch, until my palm was completely free. "You guys eat. I’m going to change."

I walked back to the dressing room, closing the heavy wooden door behind me. Just as the latch clicked, I heard Zoe’s voice through the gap.

"Hey—what if she actually doesn't show up next month?"

Ethan gave a short, dismissive laugh. "She’s depended on me since we were teenagers. She’s waited this long. She’ll show."

I pulled the wedding dress off over my head, letting the expensive silk pool around my ankles like water. Then I opened my laptop, found the email from my doctoral advisor in London—the one who had praised my research paper and offered me a fully funded fellowship—and clicked Reply.

I had turned him down once because I couldn't bear to leave my mother, my sister, or Ethan behind.

This time, I typed three sentences:

Dear Professor, I accept. I’ll be there.