One Day My Boyfriend Said He Didn’t Know Me Chapter 05
My hand stopped three centimeters from the ring.
Ryan’s knee was starting to give.
“Emma?”
Some people in the crowd couldn’t wait any longer and started chanting.
“Say yes!”
“Say yes!”
Sophie stood onstage, nervously clenching her fingers, but she still managed to joke.
“Emma, don’t second-guess it. Today’s Ryan is the real Ryan.”
My outstretched hand hovered for a moment, grazed the edge of the ring, then withdrew into my sleeve.
The applause in the hall choked off.
Murmurs rippled through the audience.
“Is she so happy she’s gone into shock?”
“Maybe the piece isn’t over yet. There could be a bigger moment coming.”
Ryan fought to hold his smile. He looked up at me.
“Emma, quit messing around. Put the ring on.”
Engraved on the inside of the band in his palm were two letters.
E.M.
Five years ago, he’d put an identical ring on my finger.
That ring had my initials engraved inside it.
He’d said that Emma Miller would only ever be Ryan Carter’s fiancée.
Later, the ring vanished.
The photos disappeared.
I’d stared at those photos—seamless, no trace of tampering—and wondered if I really had lost my mind.
Only now did I understand. There had always been two versions of every photo.
Every pose Ryan struck with me, every expression he made, he’d replicated with Sophie in a separate shot.
I looked around the room, then turned to the host.
“My answer will come after all the entries have been shown.”
The host brought the microphone closer.
“Are you saying Miss Lane’s piece has hidden content?”
Sophie’s eyes lit up.
“Emma, did you plan a bonus segment?”
Ryan braced himself upright, his face suddenly eager.
“Emma, since when do you know photography? This is great—Sophie’s got the gold locked down now.”
I glanced at the two of them, then walked straight onto the stage.
I took the microphone from the host and turned toward the corner.
“Please play the final entry. ‘Humanity.'”
The staff member blinked, then pulled up the entry list.
Only then did they realize—the creator of “Humanity” was me.
The big screen lit up.
Against the black cover, a line of text faded in.
“Filmed by: Emma Miller”
The smile froze on Sophie’s face.
“What’s going on?”
Ryan frowned and muttered, “It’s probably just some truth-seeking documentary she filmed on her own.”
Only then did Sophie relax.
The screen cut to a new image.
The first photo: the round table at the welcome-home party.
Sophie standing under the warm light, everyone laughing around her.
Ryan holding my hand with one hand, his eyes fixed on Sophie.
Then: me standing outside the apartment, the fingerprint lock glowing red.
Then: Ryan pushing a glass of warm water toward me while Sophie hid the camera in her pocket.
Every single photo had no soundtrack—just the location and timestamp. But the background audio came through perfectly clear.
“You’re sure she’ll go see the psychiatrist?”
“When has Ryan ever let you down?”
Sophie’s face went white.
She lunged toward the stage, trying to yank out the playback cable, but the staff held her back.
Ryan turned to look at me, shock written across his face.
“Emma… you suspected me all along?”
“When did you submit your entry?”
He didn’t need me to answer.
The submission page showed the registration date in plain text.
It was the same day they’d taken me to the psychiatrist.
People in the audience were starting to look confused.
“This piece says the complete opposite of Sophie’s.”
“Sophie said hers was about truth, but according to this, the whole thing was a lie.”
“Hold on, let it keep playing. This is worth the price of admission.”
Sophie bit her lip and put on a pitiful expression.
“Judges, should a piece with no professional editing even be eligible? For those of us who spend day and night perfecting our craft, this hardly seems fair.”
Someone in the audience laughed out loud.
“Didn’t you just say the beauty of photography isn’t about technique?”
Sophie had nothing to say to that.
A video clip appeared on the screen.
Mom’s voice came through first.
“Ryan, did you swap out all her things? Don’t leave any traces.”
The frame panned to the living room.
Ryan was crouched on the floor, stuffing a blue toothbrush into a cardboard box.
“She won’t figure it out on her own.”
Sophie sat on the couch, scrolling through a camera.
“It’d be better if she did. Otherwise, how do we get the suspicion phase?”
Dad walked past the lens carrying a soup pot.
“What about the dog? That yellow one goes after anyone who comes near. Sophie’s Tom is scared of it.”
Mom said, “Find the right moment and get rid of it. That girl cares more about that dog than she does about people. Losing it should push her over the edge.”
Ryan stood by the couch, holding a framed photo of the two of us.
“This one too?”
Sophie looked up.
“Swap it for the one we took. Once Emma sees it, she’ll really start doubting herself.”
The video paused.
A collective gasp swept through the hall.
Sophie’s face was ashen. She stared at me in disbelief.
“How do you have this?”
I looked at her calmly.
“I installed a pet camera at home to keep an eye on Buddy.”
Poor Buddy. He was too well-behaved.
So well-behaved that I’d almost forgotten there was a camera in the house.
Ryan stared at me, unable to speak.
And the footage kept playing.