The Wedding Dress I Returned Alone

1: 1

On the day I tried on my wedding gown, Paul Matthews took a call from his girl buddy and left.

Everyone told me to be the bigger person.

Instead, I changed out of the gown, had it packaged, and sent it back to the maker.

I went back to the apartment to pack my bags, and Paul called.

Nadia Simmons, why do you always have to be so petty?

I listened to him lay the blame on me, righteous as anything.

There wasn't a single ripple in me. If anything, I almost wanted to laugh.

"Paul, let's break up."

"The wedding's off. I've already returned the gown."

...

"It's just a wedding dress. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?"

Paul's brows were knotted tight.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bridal shop, the car keys clenched hard in his hand.

Ten minutes earlier, Diana had called.

She'd sobbed into the phone that her stomach hurt so badly she was rolling on the floor, that she didn't have the strength to stand up.

Paul had dropped the clerk who was fixing my train and spun around to bolt out the door.

I'd called after him.

And he'd turned back and thrown that line at me.

The whole shop went cold in an instant.

A few of the clerks glanced at one another, none of them daring to make a sound.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I'd had this gown custom-made in France half a year in advance.

Today was our first fitting, and the last chance to confirm the measurements.

"Paul, today is the day we're supposed to settle the wedding details."

I looked into his eyes, searching for even a flicker of guilt.

"If Diana's sick, she can go to the hospital. She can call an ambulance."

"You're not a doctor. What are you going to do, cure her stomachache?"

Paul's face darkened at once.

"Nadia, you're usually so reasonable. Why are you being so impossible today?"

"Diana's all alone in Rivermont, no family, no one. She's in so much pain she can't take it. Am I supposed to just ignore her?"

"We grew up together. I've thought of her as my own little sister for years."

"You're jealous of a sick woman? Do you have any sympathy at all?"

He didn't bother hiding the impatience in his voice.

I could even hear the click of him working the car key.

"She has friends, coworkers, building management. She could even order a delivery runner to bring her medicine."

My voice was so calm it surprised even me.

"But today, you're my fianc."

Paul let out a cold laugh, his eyes full of disappointment in me.

"Nadia, you really have to corner me right now, don't you?"

"Go ahead and finish the fitting. I paid for it a long time ago."

"Once I get Diana settled, I'll come home tonight and have dinner with you."

And with that, he pushed open the door and walked out without looking back.

The glass door slammed shut.

The wind chime rang out, shrill, as if it were laughing at me for holding on.

I stood in front of the huge mirror.

The woman in it wore a pure white gown, and no amount of careful makeup could hide the exhaustion under her eyes.

This wasn't the first time.

Last month, when we were supposed to shoot our wedding photos, Diana said a pipe had burst at her place.

Paul left the entire photography team standing there and ran off to fix her plumbing.

Last week, when we were supposed to finalize the engagement dinner menu, Diana said her coworkers were freezing her out and she was upset.

Paul stayed at a bar drinking with her until the middle of the night, and left me to face the hotel manager's nagging alone.

Every time, he had some high-minded reason.

Every time, all I could do was swallow it and understand.

"Miss Simmons, does the waist on this gown need to be taken in a little more?"

The clerk broke the silence carefully, sympathy in her voice.

I took a deep breath.

"No need."

I turned and walked toward the changing room.

"Help me get it off."

The clerk froze, clearly not following.

"But Mr. Matthews said you should keep trying it on..."

"Take it off."

I cut her off, my tone firm.

Once I was back in my own clothes, I walked to the front desk.

"Please package this gown and send it straight back to the maker."

The store manager hurried over, her face pained.

"Miss Simmons, this is couture. If it's returned, the deposit is non-refundable."

"Return it."

I took out my card and handed it to her.

"I'll cover the cancellation fee."

Card paid, I walked out of the bridal shop.

The sun was bright outside, and for once I felt light all over.

Three years.

I finally didn't have to keep swallowing my pride for a man who didn't love me.

2: 2

Back at the apartment we'd shared, I pulled out two suitcases right away.

I started packing my things.

There wasn't much, really.

Paul had bought the place, and every inch of the decor had been done to Diana's taste.

Back then I'd said I wanted a warm living room in natural wood tones.

Paul had insisted on a cold black, white, and gray scheme instead.

I only found out later that Diana had posted a line on her feed: "Black, white, and gray that's the most sophisticated kind of romance."

I stuffed my clothes and everyday things into the suitcases.

Our engagement photo was still sitting on the table.

In it, Paul's smile was forced, his eyes not even on the camera.

Diana had run a fever the day of the shoot, and he'd spent the whole time on his phone, ready to bolt to the hospital at any second.

I laid the frame face-down on the table.

My phone buzzed.

It was the guys' group chat with Paul. I'd always been in it.

Tristan Whitney had posted a photo.

In it, Diana was propped up in a hospital bed, holding a cup of hot water.

Paul sat at the bedside, peeling an apple for her, his focus so complete it was enough to make anyone jealous.

Tristan's caption read: "Nobody takes care of a woman like Paul. Look at how nice he peels that apple."

A string of comments followed underneath.

"His wife's not mad, is she? Paul did drop everything and run over here on her."

"Nadia's so easygoing, she'd never hold anything against Diana."

"Right, Diana's the apple of Paul's eye. Who'd dare cross her?"

I looked at those glaring lines of text.

Once, seeing this would have hurt, and I'd have fought with Paul over it.

Paul always blamed me for being childish, for embarrassing him, for pinching over every little thing.

Now it only struck me as absurd.

I opened the group settings and left the chat.

Then I blocked every one of them.

By the time I finished packing, it was dark out.

I set the keys on the shoe cabinet by the door.

Beside them, the three-hundred-thousand-dollar engagement ring.

The lock clicked shut.

I wheeled my suitcases into the elevator.

I'd just left the complex when Paul called.

I hit answer.

"Nadia, you're not home?"

There was a trace of weariness in his voice, and a note of entitlement.

"I just bought your favorite crab-filled dumplings. Where'd you run off to?"

"I moved out."

I stood at the curb, raising a hand for a cab.

The line went quiet for a couple of seconds.

"What are you sulking about now?"

Paul's voice shot up in an instant.

"So I didn't come to your dress fitting today. Is that really worth running away from home?"

"Diana had acute gastritis, she nearly perforated. Was I supposed to leave her alone at a time like that?"

"Didn't I come back to make it up to you? I went all the way to the South Side to buy you those dumplings!"

"Nadia, can you not always be so petty?"

I listened to him lecture me, righteous as anything.

Not a flicker of feeling in me. I almost wanted to laugh.

"Paul, let's break up."

"The wedding's off. I've already returned the dress."

"The ring and the keys are on the shoe cabinet."

With that, I hung up.

A cab pulled up in front of me.

I loaded the suitcases in.

"Southridge Manor, please."

Southridge Manor was the single's apartment I'd bought for myself. It had been sitting empty.

The car pulled away.

Paul called again, insistent as a summons for the dead.

I switched the phone off.

The night streamed backward past the window.

Three years of us, ended for good in that moment.

I didn't shed a single tear.

There was only relief, endless relief.

3: 3

Early the next morning, I went to the office.

Paul and I worked at the same internet company. He was technical director; I was a product manager.

The plan had always been that once we married, I'd quit and be the woman standing behind him.

Now, clearly, there was no need.

I dropped my resignation letter straight onto the HR manager's desk.

She looked up at me, startled.

"Nadia, you're leaving? Aren't you about to get married?"

"Not anymore."

My voice was flat, without the slightest wobble.

"Please process my handover as quickly as possible."

I had barely stepped out of HR when I ran into Paul in the hallway.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he was still in yesterday's clothes.

He'd obviously spent the whole night at the hospital with Diana Pruitt and hadn't even gone home.

The moment he saw me, he strode over and grabbed my wrist.

"Nadia, where the hell were you last night?"

"I called you all night and you didn't pick up once. Getting bold now, are you?"

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

I wrenched my hand free.

"Mr. Matthews, we're at work. Have some dignity."

Paul froze for a second, and his face darkened.

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"I got home last night and found the place cleared out. You didn't even take your ring!"

"Is this the way you're going to force me to back down?"

Coworkers passed by in the hallway, throwing us curious looks.

I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"I'm not making a scene, and I'm not forcing you into anything."

"I'm just informing you. We're over."

"I've turned in my resignation. I'll finish the handover over the next two weeks."

"Beyond work, there's nothing between us."

Paul let out a furious laugh, as if he'd heard the biggest joke in the world.

"Nadia, you're serious?"

"All because I went to see Diana yesterday? You'd throw a fit over that?"

"Do you have any idea how much danger she was in?"

"The doctor said another half hour and she'd have died!"

"You're getting jealous over a woman who nearly died. Do you have any compassion at all?"

He grew more worked up with every word, his voice ringing down the hallway.

I looked at this man I had once loved so deeply.

And felt only that he was a stranger.

"She nearly died. What does that have to do with me?"

I held his gaze.

"Am I her attending physician?"

"Am I the one who gave her gastritis?"

"Paul, if you feel for her, then go be with her. Go take care of her."

"I give you my blessing."

"You're free now. Go be her savior."

I turned to leave.

Paul blocked me again.

"Say what you mean!"

"What do you mean, give us your blessing? Diana and I are completely innocent!"

"Just because your own mind is filthy, don't drag everyone else down into the gutter with you!"

At that moment, a frail voice drifted over.

"Paul, please, stop fighting."

Diana stood a little way off in an oversized white shirt, her face pale.

She was still carrying a thermos.

"Nadia, don't blame Paul."

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have called him when I was sick."

"If you have to blame someone, blame me. Don't let me come between the two of you."

As she spoke, her eyes reddened.

She looked on the verge of collapse, fragile enough to break your heart.

Paul dropped me at once and hurried to her side to steady her.

"Why are you out of the hospital? Didn't the doctor tell you to rest?"

Diana gave a weak little smile.

"I was afraid Nadia would misunderstand, so I made some porridge and brought it over."

"Paul, hurry and explain things to Nadia for me."

She turned to look at me, but there was a flicker of provocation hidden in her eyes.

I watched the two of them, the perfect devoted couple.

And my stomach turned over.

4: 4

"Explain what?"

I looked at Diana coldly.

"Explain why you always have some crisis exactly when Paul and I have something important planned?"

"Explain why you spiked a fever in the middle of the night and just had to have Paul come cool you down?"

"Or maybe explain why you're wearing Paul's shirt to bring porridge to the office?"

Diana's expression shifted, and she tugged at the loose collar without thinking.

I knew that shirt.

It was the limited edition Paul bought just last month.

Paul's face changed too. He looked rattled.

"Nadia, that's enough!"

"Diana's clothes got dirty at the hospital. I lent her something to wear. What's the problem?"

"Do you really have to make it sound so ugly?"

I laughed.

"Ugly? There's something uglier. Want to hear it?"

I took out my phone and pulled up a recording.

It was the call Diana made to me yesterday at the bridal shop, right after Paul left.

In the recording, Diana's voice had none of the frailty from a moment ago. It was full of triumph.

"See that, Nadia? Even with the two of you about to get married, one call from me and he'll drop you and come running."

"In Paul's heart, you'll always come after me."

"Be smart and get lost on your own, before I have you thrown out."

The recording ended.

The hallway went dead silent.

A few coworkers who'd been straining to eavesdrop sucked in a sharp breath.

Diana's face went white in an instant. She stared at me like she'd seen a ghost.

"No that's not true, Paul, it's spliced together!"

"I never said anything like that! How could I ever say something like that!"

She clung to Paul's arm, tears rolling down in fat drops.

Paul stood frozen, staring at Diana in disbelief.

"Diana, did you really say that?"

"No! Paul, believe me!"

Diana wept like a rain-drenched blossom and jabbed a finger at me, shouting.

"Nadia's never liked me. She's framing me on purpose!"

I put my phone away.

"Whether it's spliced or not, get a tech expert to verify it and you'll know."

"Mr. Matthews, you're a technical whiz yourself. This shouldn't be hard to sort out, right?"

I had no interest in watching them tear into each other.

"Diana, you wanted this man. He's yours now."

"Treasure him like a prize. I wish you a long and happy life together."

I turned on my heels and walked back to my office without looking back.

The moment I shut the door, I heard Paul's muffled roar.

"Diana, get in my office!"

Over the next few days, I focused on the handover.

Paul didn't come to find me again.

Word was he and Diana had a huge fight.

Diana cried until she fainted in the office and got carted off to the hospital again.

Tristan and that crowd of buddies were in their little group chat calling me vicious, saying I'd driven Diana to the edge.

I knew all this because gossip was the one thing the company never ran short of.

But I didn't care anymore.

Friday afternoon, I packed up the last box.

HR handed me my resignation letter.

"Nadia, wishing you a bright future."

I took the letter and thanked her with a smile.

Box in my arms, I walked down to the lobby.

Paul blocked my way.

He looked more haggard than he had a few days ago.

His jaw was covered in blue-gray stubble, his eyes bloodshot, like some drifter off the street.

"Nadia."

His voice was hoarse, with a trace of pleading.

"Can we talk?"

I stopped and looked at him coldly.

"Mr. Matthews, we don't work together anymore."

"If this is personal, there's nothing to talk about between us."

Paul stared hard at the box in my hands.

"You're really leaving? Even quitting the company?"

"You're this desperate to be rid of me?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

Paul's body swayed.