She had never been one to beg. Not for attention. Not for love. Not for a man.

But when it came to Spencer Reid—her fiancé, for God’s sake—she had let her guard down. She let herself believe he was different. Told everyone he was different. Told her friends he didn’t even like texting, didn’t look at other girls, didn’t know who the Kardashians were. Told her mother he was safe. That he was hers.

And now, she was standing in the middle of Rossi’s backyard, in heels that hurt and a dress he said made her look “unreal,” watching him look at JJ like that. while she looking like goddess herself.

Like she hadn’t spent seven years loving him through everything. Like he didn’t put a ring in on her finger. Like JJ didn’t already belong to someone else and hadn’t made her choice a decade ago.

The worst part wasn’t even the look.

It was what came before it—JJ’s whispered confession. The one they all thought had been buried under “never minds” and married lives and kids and time.

But time doesn’t kill feelings. And now, her chest felt carved open. Not just from pain—but from ego. Humiliation.

She could handle heartbreak. She’s had worse.

But not this. Not when she'd sworn on her pride that Spencer Reid would never do this to her. Not when she had dragged him like a trophy through every room, proud that her genius, awkward, tender man was better than the rest.

And he still hadn’t said a word.

She turned to him slowly. “Spencer,” she said, voice cracking even though her eyes didn’t. “Please don’t make me look stupid.”

His lips parted. His mouth moved. But she didn’t wait to hear it.

Because whatever excuse he gave her—whatever stammering defense, whatever explanation of “just a look”—it wouldn’t matter.

He already did.

He made her look like the biggest fool of all.