He Gave My Wedding to Another Woman

On my wedding day, Ithe briderode to my own ceremony in a cab.

When the motorcade arrived to fetch the bride, my fianc stopped me in front of the bridal car.

Isabel Sullivan's riding in this one. I'll call you a separate cab.

I froze on the spot.

Anthony James went on:

Isabel's anti-marriage. She wants to experience what getting married feels like.

I already agreed. She'll be the one walking in during the entrance ceremony.

I turned my head, and there was Isabel, his girl buddy, already changed into a wedding gown and settled into the lead bridal car.

Seeing me on the verge of tears, Anthony sighed and offered comfort.

The wedding's just a formality. As long as we've got the marriage license, we're good.

Besides, once Isabel's had her turn, you can still walk down the aisle again.

With that, he didn't so much as glance back, sweeping off with dozens of wedding cars roaring behind him.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

It had been like this since we started planning the wedding.

All because Isabel was anti-marriage, and would never have a wedding of her own.

So she got to try on the gown first. She got to pick the venue.

And now, even the wedding itself, she got to experience first.

The light turned red, and the fleet of bridal cars sped up, leaving the cab far behind.

The driver, hands on the wheel, called back over his shoulder:

Miss, which way do we go from here?

I looked at the bridal cars, their tail already out of sight, and gave the driver a small smile.

We're not going. Turn around.

Whether it was the wedding or the man, I didn't want anything someone else had already test-driven.

The words landed in the gap as the car's music switched tracks.

The air went quiet for a few seconds.

The driver blinked, leaned back a little, and raised his voice a notch.

What'd you say, miss? Turn around?

I ran my fingers over the gown I was wearing.

I opened my phone. There on the lock screen, our engagement photo, me and Anthony smiling like the happiest people alive.

The scattered gossip of passersby drifted in through the crack in the window.

Did you see that? That motorcade just now was ridiculousMaseratis, Porschesdozens of luxury cars!

They say the pricier the wedding cars, the more blessed the bride. That groom must love her so much.

My fingers paused, so slightly it was almost invisible.

Another voice sighed.

Same species, different fates, I'm telling you. I just came from over by the Southbay Hotel, and I even saw a bride riding to her own wedding in a cab.

No way

The screen went dark, the hem of my dress crumpling between my fingers.

I swallowed down the ache in my throat and said it again.

Yes, sir.

Back to the hotel. I'm not getting married.

The countdown ended, red flipping to green.

Behind us came the impatient blare of horns.

The driver closed the mouth that had been about to say something more, spun the wheel fast, and swung the car around.

As the car settled into a smooth drive, I got a message from Anthony.

I'm the one who had the motorcade lose you on purpose. Don't chase after us.

Tell the driver to slow down. Don't run into Isabel when you get to the hotelshe doesn't like anyone stealing her thunder.

And when you get there, come in through the back by the hotel kitchen. Isabel's sensitive about appearances, and if people see you and her walking into the same ballroom and start talking, it'll be hard for her to explain.

It was rare for Anthony to send me a message this long.

From appearances to the fine print, every single word had Isabel's interests in mind.

Yet just a short while ago, when I'd been dragged off the bridal car and over to the cab in front of everyone,

he'd never once considered whether people would talk about me, whether I'd lose face.

I opened the message box and typed, one character at a time.

I'm not marrying you. Do whatever you want.

Just as I was about to hit send, messages started exploding across the top of my screen.

Ever since I'd been added, Anthony's group chat, which had always been dead silent, suddenly came alive.

Isabel: Just a casual little wedding today~

A dozen photos flooded the screen in an instant.

The backdrop was the inside of the bridal car. Isabel had pulled Anthony close for a whole string of intimate couple shots.

Finger hearts, cheek pressed to cheek

My eyes lingered on the last photo for a long time.

In it, Anthony had laid his head in Isabel's palm, smiling with a tenderness, an indulgence, I'd never seen.

That exact posewhen we were shooting our engagement photos, I'd shown him a reference picture of it. He'd called it sappy and childish.

The replies came pouring in.

The two of you really are the perfect match. The couple I've been rooting for since we were kids finally happened.

That was Anthony's childhood friend.

He said he was grateful to me for healing the heartbreak Isabel had left Anthony with when she went abroad, that the two of us were simply made for each other.

If I'd known your wedding was today I never would've skipped the banquet. I could never stand watching that plain-Jane swoop in while Isabel was overseas. Is there still time if I buy a plane ticket and rush over now?

That was Anthony's cousin.

Anthony had once asked me to drop off some documents he'd left at home.

It was pouring rain that day. My tires skidded and I hit a lamppost.

When I limped over to hand them to him, he'd nearly cried, saying those documents were tied to a multimillion-dollar project, that I was his lifesaver.

And then there were Anthony's cousin, his college roommate, his upperclassman

Every single person in this chatAnthony had introduced me to all of them. In person they were polished and kind.

Behind my back, they tore me down and insulted me at will.

A plain girl, a desperate clingy simp worming her way in while the coast was clear

Anthony typed one flat line.

Don't bring her up. Just tell Isabel how pretty she is.

Teeth clenched, hands shaking, I hammered out a few lines.

Two-faced, all of you?

Do you people not disgust yourselves?

The second my message popped up, the chat went silent for two seconds.

The last message read:

Oh crap. Wrong group, guys.

Anthony's incoming call flashed up fast and frantic, cutting off my typing.

I tapped accept.

No apology, no explanation. Just two words, nearly cold.

"Apologize."

The absurdity of it spread through me before I could stop it.

"Me? Apologize?"

I could have laughed from sheer rage.

"Apologize for what? For you all cursing me behind my back? Or for building a second group after you dragged me into this one?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

I heard Anthony give a helpless sigh.

"Trudy, you're not a hundred-dollar bill. You can't expect everyone to like you."

"Everyone in that chat grew up with me and Isabel. You showed up out of nowhere. It's normal for some of them not to accept you. Isabel adding you to the group was already a lot of respect."

I tipped my head back and forced the tears down.

"So?"

Anthony paused a beat, his voice dropping lower.

"Just apologize in the group. Say you don't mind it."

"Isabelshe's crying so hard right now. She feels terrible, blames herself, thinks it's all because she added you."

There was a gaping hole in my chest, cold wind howling straight through it.

So all it took was Isabel crying, and I was supposed to bow my head to the people who'd insulted me.

He seemed to say something else, but I couldn't make out the words after that.

The tears blurred everything. My voice broke as it came out.

"Anthony, let's break up."

"I'm not getting married. I'm not signing any license either."

Anthony didn't answer.

Someone muffled the receiver. Faintly, from his end, came the rustle of plastic and paper, and Isabel's crying.

And Anthony's patient, gentle coaxing.

"There, there. Trudy says she doesn't blame you. She's just too sensitive, that's all."

"Wipe your tears. You're on soon. Didn't you say you wanted to look gorgeous for the pictures?"

It took a good while before the crying on the other end finally quieted.

Then Anthony's voice came through again, clear and edged with impatience.

"Enough. Go apologize in the group chat, now. We're about to get married and here you are throwing a fit. It's our big day, and I don't have the patience to coddle you."

Then, remembering what I'd just said, he let out a scoff.

"Besides, if we really don't get married, could you actually stand to walk away?"

Ten years together. He didn't believe I'd ever leave.

I hung up, shifted toward the side, and rolled the window down.

I let the wind pour into the car, tearing apart the wedding hair and makeup that had taken three full hours to finish.

The driver, who had heard every word, opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again.

In the end he couldn't hold back.

"Miss, what kind of man did you go and find? A guy like that can still land himself a wife?"

"When I married my wife, I'd have set her up on a pedestal if I could. Carried her over the threshold on my own back."

Carried?

A faint bitterness spread through my chest.

Anthony had carried me once too.

That year of the big storm, snow half a person deep swallowed the whole campus. Even classes were called off.

My fever hit a hundred and four. My roommate kept swapping out towels, one after another, each one frozen stiff, until she was nearly in tears from panic.

It was Anthony who forced his way into the girls' dorm past everyone trying to stop him and carried me on his back all the way to the campus clinic, three miles off.

Drifting in and out, I felt him shivering with cold, stumbling again and again through the snow.

Yet I was warm, impossibly warm. Not even the wind reached me.

Because he'd stripped off his only down jacket and draped it over me, and by the end he was drained and frostbitten.

Back then his heart was so real that even the sky full of wind and snow could see it.

The driver clicked his tongue after he heard it.

"So how did he turn into this?"

I shook my head in silence.

I didn't know either.

Maybe he'd changed the moment Isabel came back.

The first time he lost his composure over Isabel, he smashed the couple's mug we'd made with our own hands.

The first time, on a rainy night, he left me stranded at the office until midnight and turned around to go pick up Isabel.

The first time I was in surgery, he was riding a roller coaster with Isabel at the amusement park.

From the day Isabel declared herself against marriage, it was as if Anthony had found his excuse, showering her with open, shameless favoritism.

Countless first times, countless times I gave way, all piling up, until without my noticing it had become this.

When I left the group chat, Anthony dropped a question mark next to my name.

And then nothing more.

In his eyes this was just me staging a little protest, throwing a small tantrum.

It wouldn't be long before I came crawling back, meek, to lower my head and admit I was wrong.

But this time, I was truly worn out.

Under the front desk's discreet, startled stares, I gathered up the heavy skirt of my gown and went back to my room.

I took off my makeup. I peeled off the wedding dress.

Collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the hotel's snow-white ceiling, I still felt dazed.

How had it come to this so suddenly?

Just last night, on this very bed, I'd been too thrilled, too excited to sleep.

When I opened my phone, Isabel had just posted to her feed.

In case certain people get sensitive again, let me post a video first so everyone knows the truth. This was purely a wedding trial run. Anthony and I didn't cross any lines, okay!

Attached was footage of the ceremony's procession.

I clicked on it, like I was punishing myself.

Watching Isabel in a wedding gown, gliding gracefully toward Anthony to a round of applause from friends and family.

Swearing before the officiant that they'd never part, till death did them part.

Then the exchange of rings, fingers laced together.

The longer I watched, the more a bitter laugh slipped out of me.

Everything but the kiss. They'd done it all.

Now here he was, telling me they hadn't crossed any lines.

Isabel's posts kept coming, one after another.

Serving tea to the in-laws, collecting the gift money for changing how she addressed them, pouring champagne, the parents' toast...

Before I even realized it, all of this had gone far past what Anthony had promised me. She was only supposed to walk through the entrance. Nothing more.

It wasn't until the very last part, the bouquet toss, that Anthony's message finally trickled in.

Are you at the hotel yet? Wait a while longer in the lounge. Izzy's having fun, so she went ahead and did the rest of the ceremony too.

Don't be upset about it. Just think of it as making up for how you made her cry earlier.

The lounge was only two rooms away from the banquet hall.

Even so, he wouldn't come look in on me. Not once.

I didn't answer Anthony.

I just cropped a corner of the video Isabel had posted, the one showing my wedding cake already smashed beyond recognition, and sent it to him.

Why did you let her touch my cake.

It's just a cake, what's the big deal, I'll have the hotel go buy another one.

I bit my lip until it went white.

Everything you promised me. Have you forgotten all of it?

Why, when I was already this far past disappointment, did my heart still hurt this much?

The wedding gown I'd searched more than a dozen shops to find, the one Isabel secretly tried on and stretched out of shape. Anthony had said, what's the big deal, just get another one.

The little garden chapel I'd fallen in love with, the one Isabel quietly swapped for a dreamy-styled banquet hall. Anthony had said, do what she wants, she has better taste.

By the very end of the wedding planning, my one and only request was that I make the wedding cake with my own hands.

I'd told Anthony this was the biggest wish I had as a pastry chef.

Isabel hadn't come back to the country yet, then.

Anthony had stood outside my soon-to-open pastry shop and gently tweaked my nose.

"My baby's so easy to please."

"Fine. When the day comes, I'll keep an eye on every single guest at the wedding. Everyone has to clean their plate and then write our master pastry chef an eight-hundred-word rave review."

I laughed and threw myself into his arms.

"Such a smooth talker!"

I dragged the progress bar back again and again, watching that short clip.

The cake I'd come to the hotel early to finish had been cut to pieces.

Before anyone had even taken a bite, Isabel smeared it across the face of one of Anthony's buddies.

The whole crowd burst into laughing and shoving, wiping frosting on each other.

My wish, trampled underfoot, smeared across the wall, scraped into the kitchen scraps.

The reply on the other end paused for a few seconds.

The next second, it drove straight into my heart again.

Trudy Bishop, a person shouldn't be so ungrateful.

It's just a cake, why make such a fuss. Not a single one of your relatives showed up, even your bridesmaids were people Izzy rounded up to save you from an empty room.

The scar was ripped open all over again.

I jabbed at the screen so hard it clicked and clicked.

The reason my parents wouldn't come. Aren't you the one who knows best?

The other end went silent.

The pain I'd buried settled back down into my lower belly, dragged up by the memory.

That day. Blood everywhere on the floor, a tearing, ripping agony.

On instinct, I'd dialed the number I trusted most.

The instant the call connected, a spoiled, shrill female voice was already yelling.

"Hey, hey, big busy man, you promised to hang out with us all day today, turn it off, turn it off, no answering calls!"

Along with the clanging, festive racket of the wedding car, and then the "beep, beep" of the call being cut off.

I lost a child.

When I woke, I was lying in the hospital.

The first face I saw wasn't Anthony's. It was my roommate's.

She was the one who'd found me collapsed at home after her shift, rushed me to the hospital, and signed the surgery consent form for me too.

I'd known her less than a month then. She took the risk and signed her name for me.

My fianc, Anthony, hung up on me to go watch the parade floats with his girl buddy.

The doctor's face was tight with sympathy.

"This is a threatened miscarriage. If you'd been brought in even half an hour sooner, we could have saved the baby."

Suffocating despair closed over me.

I called Anthony over and over.

Not until night fell did I finally have someone at my side, my parents, who had come from hundreds of miles away, not Anthony, who was only three miles off at the amusement park, keeping Isabel company.

That day something in me went dead, and I went home with my mom and dad.

Something occurred to me, and I opened the chat thread with the cousin I was closest to.

Before the wedding party set out, she'd texted me.

Hey, is the ceremony about to start?

A few minutes later.

Don't be too upset. I know Aunt and Uncle wouldn't let us come to the wedding, but honestly, they've been having regrets.

I really believe things between you can smooth over.

She'd sent me a video.

Looking at my mom and dad on the thumbnail, I couldn't work up the nerve to open it.

Now, with a shaking finger, I pressed play.

On the sofa at my aunt's place, my parents' eyes were already red.

Mom kept wiping at her tears.

"Why does that girl have to be so stubborn? We told her that man was no good."

"Who plays around with another woman while his own fiance is having a miscarriage?"

"And then what? He kneels in the snow all night, kneels himself right into the hospital, spits out some hollow little vow, and she goes soft on him."

Dad gripped his teacup and said nothing.

Mom, furious, smacked his arm.

"And you, why did you have to say such harsh things? Telling her if she dared marry him, she was no daughter of yours."

"Well, now look. Our girl's actually gone."

Watching the new white in my parents' hair, my tears fell one by one.

Dad was quiet for a long while,

then took a bank card out of his wallet and handed it to my cousin.

"Effie Bishop, take this to your cousin when you get the chance."

"There's a five-hundred-thousand-dollar dowry in there. Don't let her be treated badly by her husband's family."

A whole day of held-back feeling broke loose.

I buried my face and couldn't stop the sobs, crying until my throat went hoarse.

There was only one thought in my head.

I want to go home.

I didn't bother straightening anything, just grabbed my things and stuffed them into the suitcase.

I couldn't even wait for the early train the next morning, so I paid two thousand for a long-distance cab straight home.

The moment I clicked the suitcase shut, Anthony called.

"Why aren't you answering my messages?"

I didn't respond.

He clicked his tongue, but didn't press it, his tone offhand.

"Things got a little out of hand. A good bit of the banquet hall dcor got wrecked."

"I had the hotel set up a small hall on short notice. We'll just run our program in there."

The main hall was ten thousand square feet, the small one a thousand.

The ones there to sample a wedding got the main hall. The real bride got the small one.

In Anthony's mouth it was as easy as switching parking spots.

But I couldn't be bothered to argue anymore.

I answered flatly:"Fine."

Not hearing the complaint he'd expected, Anthony paused.

Once it sank in, he let out a breath of relief.

"Now that's more like it."

"The hotel's already setting up, and I just had someone custom-make an identical wedding cake."

Something crossed his mind, and his voice dropped lower, edged with a bit of tenderness.

"Trudy, you're about to become my wife."

"The wedding starts at nine. Make sure you're there on time."

The call ended.

I slid the diamond ring off my finger and dropped it on the hotel nightstand.

Then I turned, and got into the cab home.