The best man

Chapter 2

As the day dragged on, I tried to savor my cup of ice cream while watching *Bridget Jones's Diary* for the umpteenth time. I cried every tear alongside her, belting out "All By Myself" with a mixture of sorrow and solidarity.

"I hate him! He led me on through all his escapes, filling my life with hope and moments that felt so real, only to find someone else to marry."

I murmured to the empty room, my voice shaky as I resonated with Bridget's heartache.

Afterward, I took a long, hot shower, hoping the steam would wash away my misery. But instead, it only intensified my feelings. I found myself sobbing loudly, letting the water mingle with my tears. "What's wrong with you, Lily?" I shouted at my reflection in the mirror afterward. "Why are you waiting for Conor to notice you? You deserve better!" My voice echoed off the bathroom tiles, a raw confession of my frustrations.

I spent the night wrestling with my thoughts, replaying memories of Conor and the moments I thought meant something. Luckily, the next day was Saturday, and I didn't have to go to work. I stayed up far too late, tossing and turning, only to wake up late, too.

I couldn't continue living like this. I had to take action. Before I faced everyone again as the best man, I needed to fix myself and not let Conor destroy me.

Finally, I left my house at 3 p.m. to buy a diary—a safe space where I could pour out my emotions, document my journey, and create a list of things to do to move on. I couldn't spend all day in bed, consumed by the thought of Conor being engaged and the gut-wrenching realization that he never cared for me in the same way I cared for him. "He's happy, and I need to let go," I told myself firmly, trying to convince my heart to listen.

It was time for a new journey. In my diary, I began crafting a plan for what I needed to do moving forward.

**N.1: Monday—Therapy.**

I hadn't seen my therapist in far too long. Her name is Amelie, and she's a middle-aged French woman I appreciate dearly. "I need her perspective," I thought, remembering the way she always seemed to cut through my defenses with grace. I could still picture her striking red hair cascading down her shoulders and her playful freckles dusting her cheeks. Every time I met with her, she wore a different colored scarf, each one seeming to reflect her mood, a visual representation of the care she poured into our sessions.

"Amelie always knows how to make me see things differently," I mused. I remembered one session when she told me, "You must allow yourself to feel fully before you can heal, Lily." Her kindness wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I often found myself looking forward to our talks more than I realized.

**N.2: Going to the Gym.**

I had never been to the gym, but Conor always did. My usual exercise was walking in the park. "What if I hate it?" I wondered, anxiety bubbling up. I'd heard that Pilates was gentle yet effective, a good way to ease into fitness. Maybe I could start there. "I need to push myself out of my comfort zone," I reminded myself, writing down a plan.

**N.3: Meeting New People.**

The thought of meeting new people felt daunting. "How do I even start?" I questioned, my heart racing. I decided I would visit the park, the library, and a local bar, letting serendipity guide me. "Making friends at 27 isn't easy," I sighed, but I knew I had to try. "Even if I stumble, it's a step forward."

**N.4: Hobbies.**

I wanted to explore painting, karaoke, museums, and even the zoo. "I can rediscover joy in the little things," I thought, jotting down everything that sparked a hint of excitement. I'd forgotten how to enjoy myself without Conor, Shelly, and James. It was time to reconnect with who I was.

As I finished writing in my diary, a sudden, unpleasant smell drifted up from my armpit, jolting me back to reality. My house was a mess, reflecting the chaos in my mind. "It's time to fix everything," I said aloud, the resolve hardening in my chest. This was the first step in reclaiming my life, and I was determined to see it through.