Brianna Sluski Facebook ad: “The Zero-Vote Bride”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

1244371611177657

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network and Threads

Relaunches

1

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Ad text

A week before the wedding, my fiancé asked me to book eight seats on the Jitney to the Hamptons. It was his last trip as a single man, and he wanted to go with the people closest to him. I spent three days refreshing the page before I finally managed to grab eight seats together. The moment I paid, an iMessage poll titled “Hamptons Weekend” popped up on my phone. The question was: *Should Mireille come?* Seven votes against. One abstention. Not a single vote in favor. The voters were the people closest to me: my fiancé, Hadrian; my sister, Sarah; his childhood friend, Leo; and my cousin, Emily. I asked Hadrian if the abstention was his. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I didn’t vote against you.” “I thought that was enough to show I was considering your feelings.” “Everyone feels like they won’t be able to relax if you’re there.” “Can’t you just think of this as my own weekend before the wedding?” I asked, “Then why did you ask me to book eight seats?” The answer came easily to him. “You’re the best at getting tickets. The extra seat can hold the cooler and luggage.” “I’ll Venmo you in a minute.” Sarah, who was sitting with us, chimed in. “You’re about to get married. Don’t make a big deal out of a few tickets.” I lowered my eyes to the eight seats lined up on my screen. I had spent three days fighting for them, but not so I could join the trip. I had simply secured everyone else a weekend away without me. The booking app reminded me I had only ten minutes left to cancel. But I no longer cared if the tickets were refundable. What I cared about was that the man I was going to marry hadn’t cast a single vote in my favor when everyone else wanted me gone. ... When the countdown reached nine minutes, Hadrian took my phone from my hand. “Don’t be impulsive. These tickets are hard to get.” He lowered his head to check the order. His shoulders only relaxed after he confirmed all eight seats were still there. I looked at him. “You’re afraid I’ll cancel them?” “You’re angry right now. You’ll regret it later.” “Regret what?” “Regret messing up everyone’s plans.” Then, right in front of me, he closed the cancellation page. Sarah sat at the dining table, peeling an orange. “Once you marry Hadrian, you’ll have him every day. It’s only three days. Don’t blow this out of proportion.” “I didn’t say he couldn’t go.” “Then why are you acting like this?” The orange peel snapped in her hand. She frowned. Ever since we were children, that was the face she made whenever she thought I was being dramatic. “Mireille, you always turn little things into big problems and make it awkward for everyone.” Hadrian put my phone back in my hand and Venmoed me eight hundred dollars. The tickets had cost seven hundred and fifty-two. For the extra forty-eight dollars, his note read: *Don’t be mad. Buy yourself something nice.* I sent......

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h5.reelshortnovel.com

The Zero-Vote Bride