The Open Wedding He Gave Me, I Don't Want It Anymore

Without a word to me, my fianc turned the wedding I'd waited eight years for into an open one.

He even announced it to everyone: he wanted to make every girl's dream of wearing a wedding gown come true.

So when he walked in leading a young girl in a floor-length mermaid gown

I said nothing.

Mrs. Sanchez, you look so beautiful today.

"If it weren't for you, I'd never get to wear a gown this elegant in my whole life."

Miranda Holland was the poor student I'd been sponsoring for seven years, and also the graduate student Edward Sanchez was advising.

All because of one line from her"I'm never getting married in my life, I just want to put on a wedding dress and take a set of photos with Edward."

Edward spent a fortune, millions, buying more than a hundred gowns and handing them out to every woman at the wedding.

Among all that white gauze, I was the one who faded into nothing.

Even the photographer couldn't find the bride, so he just shot whoever he happened to catch.

Fine. Since I wasn't his one and only, there was no reason to go through with this marriage.

In the lounge, I stripped off the satin gown that had taken over a year to make.

Looking at myself in the mirror, hair pinned up with fresh flowers, a wave of desolation rose in me.

Everything around me had been arranged to my taste.

Dreamy. Romantic.

Only the man himself had quietly changed his heart.

The phone rang, pushing me. "Anya Quinn, what are you dragging your feet for now? The ceremony's already started. If I can't find you, I'll just have Miranda fill in."

"The wedding's only a formality anyway. None of my relatives even know you. Whether you show up or not makes no difference."

The clock on the wall read eight thirty. The ceremony didn't start until nine.

I pulled at the corner of my mouth. Hearts change easilyso why not the time of a wedding.

I'd just started for the door when a sharp cramp seized my lower belly and doubled me over onto the floor.

The door opened and my best friend Queenie Lawrence took one look and cried out.

"God, don't crush the bridal bouquet!"

"Those are gardenias, Miranda's favorite. Your husband had them air-freighted from the Netherlands just this morning. If you ruin them, he'll have a fit."

I stared, stunned, as she picked the bouquet up off the floor, brushed off the dust, and plucked away the few wilted blooms on the outside.

"Only the freshest buds are good enough for today's golden couple."

The pain twisted through my stomach. I forced out a breath and grabbed her ankle.

"Queenie, my stomachit hurts, get me a doctor"

She looked at me sprawled there on the floor.

She sighed. "Anya, I know Edward gave every woman here a gown and stole your thunder, and you feel wronged."

"But you don't have to fake being sick and wreck the mood, do you? You're the one who threw a little tantrum without reading the room, and thank God that girl Miranda stepped up to clean up your mess. You really ought to be grateful to her."

"All right, I've got to get back out there."

The door opened and shut, and every word stayed stuck in my throat.

Just yesterday, this was the friend who told me to hold on to my happiness for dear life, to keep an iron grip on any man who stepped out of line after marriage, who swore she couldn't stand even a speck of grit in her eye.

Now she was spinning like a top, running around to arrange the sham wedding of my fianc and his student.

Why would she care whether I lived or died.

In the end, I passed out from the pain, and two cleaners carried me to the hospital.

The doctor's first diagnosis was food poisoning. After they pumped my stomach,

they asked me to think back on everything I'd eaten the night before.

I clenched my fist and remembered. The only thing that didn't add up was the takeout box Edward had brought home.

Seeing me go quiet, the doctor added, "Spoiled food can cause poisoning too. In your case it's most likely from eating too many leftovers. One minute later getting you here, and you might have gone into shock and died."

I picked up my phone and scrolled back to the dinner photo Miranda had posted two days ago.

Sure enough. The exact same food.

Only what she'd left half-eaten was what Edward would ever pack up and bring home to me.

I remember one time I caught a whiff of something spoiled, my stomach turned, and I gagged right there at the table.

He was furious. He slammed his bowl and chopsticks down and threw out a line before he left.

"What are you being so dramatic for? I'm exhausted enough running projects with my students. I don't have the time to indulge some spoiled princess act!"

That cold war lasted over a month. In the end I was the one who went to the school where he taught to make peace. In front of the whole department's students, I knelt on the floor and admitted I was wrong, and only then would he come home.

Looking back now, I really was a complete fool.

Every year, the birthday cake Edward bought me either had the frosting scraped into a mess or all the fruit on top picked off and eaten before I ever saw it.

I used to wonder about it.

But every time he'd explain with a smile in his eyes: "Kids are just mischievous. Don't take it to heart."

I thought it was some little kid at the bakery who didn't know better, and I never made a fuss.

What I cared about was always Edward's thought behind it.

Only now do I know that the "kid" he meant was Miranda Holland, the girl I'd rescued out of the mountains.

The pitiful girl who swore up and down she'd work herself to the bone to repay me.

When I said I wanted to sponsor her, Edward flatly refused.

He said, "You help people out of a crisis, not out of poverty. Anya, let it go."

"A girl who came out of some backwater like that, even if you pour everything you have into her, the money will just end up in the hands of her bloodsucking parents and brother. Forget it. People have their own fates."

I lost sleep over it for several nights, and I decided Edward had a point.

So I hurried to Miranda's hometown overnight with two hundred thousand in cash and personally handed it to her parents, buying her freedom for the rest of her life.

I put her through high school and college, signed her up for all kinds of enrichment classes to broaden her horizons and refine her.

Later, when she wanted to go for a master's degree, I begged and wheedled Edward into tutoring her, and in the end she was smoothly taken on as his student.

Little by little, Miranda spent more time at Edward's side than I did, and I was his fiance.

They'd travel abroad together for field research, then break the trip to stop in Bali for a bonfire party.

The next day they'd fly to Iceland to see the northern lights, the place I'd dreamed of going.

Edward had promised to take me there, but he never once made good on it.

He was always busy.

Papers to publish, projects to run, students to advise.

Last time we went to the courthouse to register our marriage, I waited eight hours in the blazing sun.

All I got at the end of it was: "A student's water pipe burst at home, I'm tied up. Whether we register or not doesn't really matter. In my heart, you've been my wife for a long time already."

"Be good, just grab a cab home yourself. The staff are about to clock out anyway."

He was always like this. Endlessly gentle and attentive to outsiders, cold as ice to me.

My eyes stung all at once. I reached up and touched them. Those were tears of disappointment.

Just then the wedding planner called.

She told me changing the bride's name and the welcome photos in the venue decor at the last minute would cost extra.

In the video he sent.

A handsome man and a beautiful woman walked hand in hand into the wedding hall.

Miranda wore a white veil and an ivory mermaid gown with a long trailing skirt.

It was the final piece from my favorite Italian designer.

To have the chance to wear it, I'd flown abroad several times to earnestly ask him to work with me, until the designer told me himself:

"I'm so sorry, beautiful lady. Not long ago, a gentleman paid a fortune to buy that gown. His wife is lovely, an elegant Eastern woman like you. It was their undying love that moved me."

I came back heartbroken and told Edward about the letdown.

At the table, he was too busy picking the bones out of the fish for Miranda, who'd come to visit.

He brushed me off lightly. "It's just a dress. I'll transfer five hundred thousand to your card later, go pick one out at the mall yourself."

The corner of Miranda's mouth quietly curved up, and she said in a joking tone:

"Anya, don't be discouraged that you couldn't get the gown. Not every woman is lucky enough to find some fool willing to spend a million just to make her smile."

"Edward's always been level-headed. He works hard for his money. You really should be more understanding."

While I was busy blaming myself, the two of them exchanged a smile.

Edward thoughtfully wiped the bit of soup off the corner of Miranda's mouth with a wet wipe.

"We're done eating, we're going to the study to discuss our research. If you don't have anything urgent, try not to come bother us. It'll break our train of thought."

The excited screams from the crowd yanked me out of the memory.

"Kiss! Kiss!"

I could pick out my best friend Queenie's voice clearly, the loudest and most sincere of them all.

"You two better be happy! Edward Sanchez, if you dare treat your bride badly, I'll come after you!"

Edward smirked and flashed an OK sign at the crowd.

He bent down, ducked under Miranda's veil, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her into a deep kiss that made everyone envious.

The cheering grew louder.

The tips of Edward's ears went red. Holding Miranda's soft little face in his hands, his whole expression softened.

I had never seen him like this.

So content, so happy.

Like a general home from a won war, holding in his arms the prize he'd craved most.

Just as Miranda wanted, he posed with her for over a thousand photos in her wedding gown.

That afternoon she even changed into a toasting dress and went table to table, toasting his parents and every guest present, their love spilling right off the screen.

Until everyone forgot.

That this wedding was supposed to be mine.

I laughed at myself inside.

That special way of kissing, I had once brought it up to Edward too, full of hope.

He'd only looked at me with distaste. "Are you five? I'm not going to fool around with you in front of everyone and embarrass myself."

I closed the video and typed out a message to the wedding planner.

I don't mind paying more. Keep the evidence safe for me, and in a week make a big public splash out of this couple's wedding. I'll put two million into advertising with your company.

Walking out of the hospital, I suddenly thought of that man.

I found him at the very bottom of my contacts and made the call.

"Charles Delgado, that thing you said before about marrying me, does it still stand?"

Where he was, it was the middle of the night.

At my words he jolted upright, his breath ragged. "Anya, wait for me."

I drew in a slow breath. "Mm. Tomorrow's Friday here. Let's meet at the courthouse."

By the time I got home, it was deep into the night.

The whole apartment was silent, only the red wedding decorations everywhere throwing back glare until my eyes ached.

Lowering my gaze, I saw the note scrawled on the table.

Miranda's back is hurting, I'm taking her for treatment. Made you dinner, remember to eat, don't be picky.

I stared at the sticky food in the takeout box.

He thought I didn't know this was leftovers he'd packed up from the wedding banquet.

More than half the box was crushed peanuts and mango. I'm allergic to both.

He hadn't forgotten. He'd simply never cared enough to remember.

I swept every last dish off the table and into the trash.

When I looked up, the wedding decorations on the walls and glass windows caught my eye and grated at me too, so I tore them all down.

It was true what they said. Once a person straightens up, there's no stopping.

Edward was always busy with work. He couldn't even make time to take our wedding photos with me.

So in every single picture, his face had been photoshopped in afterward by the photographer.

Now those cheap wedding photos got split in two with a fruit knife, and the half that belonged to Edward went into the trash.

Then I saw the mugs lined up neatly in the cabinet.

I walked over and traced the little gilded words engraved on them with my fingertips. Edward Sanchez loves Anya Quinn, now and forever.

Mine was worn down so far the glaze had nearly rubbed off.

Edward's still sat there brand new, not even out of its wrapping. He had never once used it.

Expressionless, I threw the pair into the trash.

There was a lot more I didn't want, apparently.

The apartment was full of it. Couple's toothbrushes, couple's slippers, couple's pajamas

I threw things away until I was sweating.

All four trash cans were stuffed past the brim.

However giddy I'd been when I bought all of it, that was exactly how utterly crushed I felt clearing the junk out now.

One last thing. I dug the property deed to the apartment out of the safe.

Then I listed it for sale with an agent on my phone.

Once that was done, every last thread between me and Edward was cut clean.

I lay on the couch, opened a bottle of red wine, and sipped it slowly. Bitter first, then that sweetness coming back through, like tasting my own life over again.

Ten years spent loving a man I never should have. Bad luck in men.

Thank God the filthy business between those two came out before I sank all the way in.

Right before bed, out of nowhere, Miranda video-called me.

I picked up, and the first thing filling the screen was her face, done up in delicate makeup.

Behind her, the downtown food truck strip, usually packed shoulder to shoulder, had been cleared out empty.

"Anya, we're about to go grab some barbecue. Want to come? If not, that's fine too, Edward can box some up and bring it home for you."

She smiled at the camera, sweet and innocent, but deep in her eyes sat a thick layer of provocation.

As if to say, "All you'll ever deserve is my leftovers. Same goes for the man."

Edward walked ahead in a sharply cut suit, holding Miranda's hand with one of his, carrying her purse in the other.

At his wrist you could just make out that little pink hair tie that was hers.

The way I remembered him, he obsessed over clean living and never touched street food.

He'd even get angry if someone near him ate it.

Once I worked so late that every restaurant nearby had closed, and I had no choice but to eat a breakfast wrap standing on the sidewalk.

I got home, he smelled it on me, and he dragged me right back out and locked the door from the inside.

"That's disgusting. Go air the stink off you before you come back in."

That night I sat huddled in the corner till morning, and that was how I got the bad leg, the kind that cramps down to the bone the second it gets cold.

Looking at it now, Edward's principles bent depending on who he was dealing with.

I just wasn't the one he favored.

I let out a scoff. "If you're going to cheat, tuck your tail and take it somewhere far away. You turn my stomach."

Two seconds of surprise on the other end.

"Anya, I know you've always minded how close Edward and I are, but there's nothing shameful going on. It's nothing like what you think."

On the verge of tears, she shoved the phone into Edward's hand.

"I've ruined your wedding night. I'm sorry, Edward, I'll go now."

Edward grabbed her in a panic and turned his temper on me. "Apologize to Miranda!"

"Keep dreaming."

I moved to hang up, and he shrieked at me, out of his mind, "There's a limit to making trouble for no reason. Fine, I'll spend more time with you some other day."

"Miranda's younger than you. Aren't you ashamed, picking on her?"

The corner of my mouth curled with contempt. A man doesn't go rotten all at once.

"Got time tomorrow? Come make Miranda a cake, her birthday's almost here, and you can use the chance to apologize."

There was a threat under Edward's tone.

Not a ripple in me. "No time. I'm going to the courthouse to get my marriage license."

He gave a soft, sneering laugh. "Ha. How exactly do you get a marriage license without me? Don't be ridiculous."

"I know you want to be the rightful Mrs. Sanchez, I know you've been dying for it, but you upset Miranda today and I'm in a bad mood. I'm not going!"