The White Dress, by Angela Carlton

He calls her for the 17th time. The phone rings-rings-rings. She sits by the window, tears roll down her cheeks as she looks outside, a little girl is playing, laughing. She’s laughing. Yesterday, her world was shiny. Today, she severed ties with two bridesmaids, her fiancé, snap, like that. They knew. Every damn one of them knew. He was cheating with one friend, but they covered it up like fresh dirt over a grave. She’s glad she spotted them kissing in another window on Main Street, that evening she shopped for the white dress that would float in the wind.