01
An hour to go until the wedding.
I sat at the makeup table, my heart racing as I stared at the photo on my phone.
It was a picture from Andrew’s ex–girlfriend, Amelia, wearing the wedding dress I had chosen, her smile bright as she wrapped her arms around Andrew.
He was looking down at her, his eyes filled with tenderness.
She had messaged me: [He says I look better in this than you do.]
Then, with a hint of malice, she added: [If you want your wedding ceremony to go smoothly, you might want to beg me.]
I shut my phone with a snap and turned to my makeup artist. “Is it true that the dress I ordered can’t be worn because of a sizing mistake?”
This bridal shop was also handling my makeup and photography, and I had invested a lot of money and time into planning for this day.
Yet, the makeup artist couldn’t meet my gaze.
I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach.
I remembered how, during our dress fitting, Andrew had either been on the phone or glued to his laptop, while with Amelia, he was all smiles.
I clenched my phone tightly and took a deep breath. “Please go get Andrew for me.”
The assistant hurried off to find him.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the bodice of my dress too tight, making it hard to breathe.
Maybe this dress was never meant to be mine.
Before Andrew arrived, the officiant walked in, his expression a mix of guilt and sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ms. Moore, but you won’t need to attend.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, though it was more of a bitter chuckle. “Are you telling me that on my wedding day, I’m not allowed to show up? Is that what you’re saying?”
He opened his mouth to explain, but before he could utter a word, Andrew stepped into the room.
“It was my decision,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying him.
Andrew wore the white suit I had picked out for him, but the bow tie was not the one I had chosen.
I raised an eyebrow, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Amelia is having surgery soon; the hospital gave her a critical condition notice. Her only wish is to wear a wedding dress.”
I scoffed. “At my wedding?”
I knew Amelia well.
It was only three years into Andrew and my relationship that I learned about his childhood love, who had lost all her hair to chemotherapy.
They had grown up together, their families close, and even after their breakup, they couldn’t completely sever ties.
When Amelia fell ill and had to move away for treatment, her parents asked Andrew to look after her since he lived in the same city.
Initially, I respected her situation and felt sympathy for a woman so young, suffering from such a devastating illness.
But my feelings changed when, after a date, she expected Andrew to rush over with soup for her.
I had tolerated her because she was sick, and it was clear that Andrew understood my perspective and prioritized me.
He would report back to me about Amelia’s needs, only visiting her in emergencies, and even then, I would tag along.
idea.
But now, I was left in the dark. When had he decided to let her wear my wedding dress? When had he chosen to replace me in this ceremony? I had no
