He Swapped Brides at the Wedding; I Obliged, He Went Mad

At the wedding, just as I was about to step onto the stage, Florence Harding appeared in front of me in a gown identical to mine.

Thank you for giving up your own wedding to make up for what I lost.

I froze in place, not understanding what was happening, and my eyes went straight to Edgar Delgado.

He not only didn't stop her, he smiled at me.

"We decided this at the last minute yesterday. My brother passed so suddenly he never got his wedding. As his younger brother, I have a duty to fulfill his wish for him."

"A ceremony is just a formality anyway. When it comes to the marriage license, it'll still be us. This way you won't wear yourself out today either. Just sit down and watch."

My nails dug deep into my palm. My voice shook.

"This is my wedding. Why didn't you talk to me about it first?"

His face darkened at once.

"I'm the one paying for this wedding. Since when do I need to consult you about who I marry?"

"If you agree today, you're still my wife. If you don't, then leave now. With you or without you, this wedding goes the same either way."

With that, he took Florence's hand and turned toward the stage.

I stood where I was, watching their backs as they walked away, cold all over.

The applause below rose, fell, and rose again.

On the stage, Florence held Edgar's arm, smiling as she accepted everyone's congratulations.

Every seat was full, and not one face showed surprise.

As if the bride standing in the spotlight had always been meant to be her.

So everyone had known.

This wedding I'd spent half a year planning.

From start to finish, I was the only one kept in the dark.

Marjorie Delgado came over, gripping my wrist and dragging me toward the lounge area, her voice impatient.

"Florence and his brother had already sent out the invitations back then, and then he was suddenly gone. It's not easy for a young woman like her."

"Edgar's just going through the motions for his brother. Once the ceremony's over, he's still yours. You two go on living your life the way you always would. It costs you nothing."

Jason Delgado stood beside her with his hands behind his back, his face stiff.

"Be reasonable. Don't make a scene over something this small and let the guests laugh at the Delgado family."

I pulled my hand back, my fingertips cold.

"You should choose your words more carefully. There's no marriage license, so whose he is isn't settled yet."

The date I'd booked to get the license was a week ago.

That day I waited outside the county clerk's office from morning until afternoon.

Five hours, eighteen phone calls.

In the end all I got was one message from him.

He said Florence had stomach pains and had fainted alone at home.

He'd taken her to the hospital and couldn't leave a sick person, so the license would have to wait.

Until today, I'd been grieving that a wedding without a marriage certificate was a flaw.

Now I saw it was heaven warning me.

Marjorie's face darkened the moment she heard it.

"The Delgado family letting you through the door is a blessing you earned in a past life. Don't spit on the kindness you're given!"

My voice went cold too.

"My wedding, and you swap out the bride just like that. Did you ask me a single word?"

Jason's voice suddenly shot up.

"Ask you what? The Delgado family paid for this reception. We put whoever we want up there as the bride!"

"If you know how to behave, sit quietly and stay put. If you don't, get out right now. The Delgado family isn't short one daughter-in-law!"

The argument grew louder and louder.

On the stage, the ring exchange had just finished, and Edgar immediately took Florence's hand and came over.

His gaze swept across my tight face, and his brows knotted.

"Althea Swanson, are you done making a scene? My brother passed so suddenly, and Florence never even got a proper wedding. I'm only fulfilling a wish for him. Is it really necessary to throw a tantrum in front of your elders?"

Marjorie jumped in right away.

"A tantrum? She just said we were being unreasonable. If you ask me, she never wanted this marriage at all!"

Edgar's face darkened further.

He stepped forward, looking down at me, his tone full of disappointment.

"How did I never notice how petty you are?"

"Florence was with my brother for all those years. Now that he's gone, is it wrong for me to look after her a little more?"

"It's just a ceremony. The name on the marriage certificate is yours, and the person I'll spend my life with is you too. You insist on making a scene on a day like this. What's the point?"

I lifted my head and looked at him coldly.

"So that's why you didn't talk to me first? This is my wedding, and I don't even get the right to know?"

He curled his lip as if he'd heard the biggest joke.

"You're Mrs. Delgado only because I let you stand here. If I don't, you're nothing."

Florence tugged lightly at his sleeve.

"Edgar, don't say any more. It's my fault. I shouldn't have come..."

"This has nothing to do with you."

Edgar patted the back of her hand, and when he looked back at me, there wasn't a shred of patience left.

"Two roads. Either you sit quietly, and when the ceremony's over you come home with me, and I won't hold today against you."

"Or you grab your things and leave right now, and never appear in front of me again. You choose."

I said nothing, just looked at him for a long time.

Three years of scalding love, doused ice-cold by a single sentence from him.

I didn't argue anymore. I turned and walked to a seat in the corner and sat down.

Edgar took my silence for surrender, and the crease between his brows eased.

Hand on Florence's waist, the two of them stepped back onto the stage.

The emcee smoothed it over with a smile.

When his voice fell, applause thundered from the floor.

My best friend rushed in with her skirt gathered in one hand, scanning the stage without finding a trace of me.

Then her eyes landed on the corner, and she froze before hurrying over.

"Althea, why are you sitting here? Who's that woman up there?"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Can't you tell? She's the star of today's wedding. I'm just decoration."

She went off like a firecracker, shoving up her sleeves to storm the stage.

"Has Edgar lost his mind? No wonder he refused to let me be a bridesmaid. I thought he was planning some surprise. Turns out he was just afraid I'd ruin his little scheme!"

"I'm tearing that shameless pair apart today!"

I caught her arm and held her back.

"Don't."

"So you're just going to swallow this?"

I looked at the two of them smiling at each other on stage and gave a faint shake of my head.

"I just suddenly don't see the point. Besides, watching your own fianc marry someone else, that's a rare thing to live through."

Her eyes reddened. She crouched down and gripped my hand.

"Althea..."

I patted the back of her hand to show her I was fine.

"Let's just watch the show. Might as well, since it's free."

The ceremony ended, and the newlyweds started their toasts.

Edgar walked table to table with Florence.

Florence wasn't used to heels, and every few steps her ankle turned.

Each time, he reached out to steady her, his palm closing over her waist, easy and intimate.

When they reached my table, Florence held out a glass of juice and gave me a grateful smile.

"Miss Swanson, thank you for today. If Elliot's watching from above, I'm sure he'd be so happy."

Every other word out of her mouth was about her dead man. She was flat-out trying to corner me with guilt.

The eyes of everyone at the table settled on me, all of them waiting for a show.

I didn't take the juice she offered. I picked up the water in front of me and took a sip.

"No need to thank me. I never agreed to any of this."

The air froze in an instant.

Edgar's face went cold, and he pulled Florence behind him.

"Althea, don't push your luck. Enough."

With that, he put his arm around Florence and turned straight to the next table.

He didn't spare me another glance.

My best friend couldn't stand it. She snatched up my bag and pulled me toward the door.

"We're not staying. One more second in this dump makes me sick. I'm taking you to get drunk. We're not going home sober tonight!"

The music in the bar was deafening.

She filled a glass of whiskey to the brim and pushed it in front of me.

"Drink! Finish it and forget that piece of trash. A decent man may be one in a million, but ordinary men are a dime a dozen!"

I held the glass, my thoughts drifting little by little.

The truth was, I'd noticed things were off before.

Last year, on my birthday, I booked a restaurant and waited for him until midnight.

All I got in the end was one line:

"Florence has a fever, I'm at the hospital with her. Eat without me."

Last month, I was hospitalized with acute gastroenteritis and called him.

He said Florence was moving and had no one to help, so I should hire an aide myself.

Even on the day we shot our wedding photos, Florence called saying she was in a bad mood.

He left me mid-shoot and drove straight off to the beach with her.

I always told myself his brother was gone, and looking after Florence a little more was only human.

Three years together, after all, so he had to have me in his heart. He just wasn't good at showing it.

Turns out I was only fooling myself.

I tipped my head back and drained the glass.

The liquor burned down my throat, and my eyes stung red.

By the third glass, my best friend suddenly nudged my arm, her eyes darting toward a spot behind us.

I followed her gaze.

Edgar was sitting in the far back, his childhood friends gathered around him.

Two buttons of his shirt were undone, a glass turning in his hand, drunken weariness on his face.

Someone clinked his glass with a laugh.

"Not bad, Edgar. You finally got what you wanted today. Back when your brother was with Florence, I could tell something was off with you."

Another one jumped in.

"Right? Every time Florence went out with your brother, you'd drag us out drinking. A few times you nearly bled out your stomach and landed in the hospital. Back then we were scared to death you'd drink yourself dead and stick us with the bill. After a while, whenever you called us out, we didn't even dare leave the house."

Edgar took a sip, tugged the corner of his mouth, and didn't argue.

Someone asked, "So what about Althea? You really planning to go through life with her?"

Edgar tapped a fingertip against the rim of his glass, his tone offhand.

"Of course. She's my girlfriend, and half a benefactor too. Without her holding the fiance title, I'd have had no reason to throw this wedding, and no way to get Florence into that gown without anyone questioning it."

"Since I agreed to marry her, I won't go back on my word. Worst case, I travel more after the wedding and we see less of each other. No harm to either of us."

The rest of what he said, I couldn't make out.

There was only a buzzing in my ears.

The drink in my glass sloshed over the back of my hand, cold enough to bite.

My best friend was so furious she nearly charged over there, but I caught her arm and held her back.

I shook my head.

"There's no point. I've already decided to break up with him."

Back then, to marry him, I'd put off going abroad again and again.

Now, looking at it, his change of heart had done me a favor.

I pulled out my phone, opened the acceptance email from the school overseas, and wrote back:

"Hello, I confirm my enrollment. I'll have all the paperwork done within a week and report to campus."

The message sent. I set down my glass and gave my friend a small smile.

"Come on, no more drinking. I'm going home to pack."

She grabbed her bag to come with me.

"I'll take you home. I don't feel right leaving you like this."

I shook my head.

"It's fine. I just want to be alone for a while."

She looked at my pale face and didn't push it, only kept reminding me over and over.

"Then take it slow on the way, and text me the second you get home, you hear? Call me anytime if anything comes up."

I nodded and split off from her outside the bar.

The night wind carried a chill, and against my face it only made my head spin harder.

I walked slowly along the edge of the street.

By the time I got home and opened the door, it was past the middle of the night.

The living room glowed with warm yellow light.

Edgar was sitting on the sofa, Florence leaning against his shoulder.

Their heads were tipped together, the two of them scrolling through the wedding photos on his phone.

At the sound of the door, Edgar looked up, his brows knitting at once.

"Where did you go? You storm off from your own wedding, and you still know how to come back?"

Florence sat up straight, her face carrying just the right amount of apology.

"Miss Swanson, it's all because of me that you and Edgar are at odds. I'm so sorry."

"I'd meant to stay at a hotel, but Edgar said the wedding house Elliot prepared before he died still isn't finished, and it wasn't safe for me to stay somewhere alone. He insisted I come stay here for a few days."

"If it bothers you, I'll leave right now..."

She said it and reached for the bag on the sofa.

"No need."

Edgar pressed her back down and looked at me, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"The master bedroom is bigger, better light too. Florence is more or less our elder, so give the best room to her. Pack your things. We'll move into the guest room."

The old me would have argued with him, eyes red.

But now I only nodded, my voice level.

"Fine."

He froze for a second, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so readily.

He took it as me finally coming to my senses, and his expression eased a little.

"Good that you know how to behave. Florence is frail, so pay her more attention day to day and try to accommodate her."

I said nothing and turned into the master bedroom.

I opened the door, and my skincare, my clothes, my jewelry had all been arranged neatly by the doorway.

Clearly he'd had the housekeeper pack them up ahead of time.

Just like swapping out the bride.

He made it sound nice, but in truth he'd never given me a choice at all.

I gathered up my things, carried them into the guest room, and didn't come out again.

The next day I'd planned to go to the company and hand in my resignation.

I'd barely reached the living room when I heard Florence crying from the bathroom.

Edgar was very anxious.

"How did this happen? I'll call a doctor over."

I walked over.

On the skin Florence had left bare, a dense rash of red bumps had broken out.

The moment she saw me, she quickly tugged her sleeve down and choked out,

"It's fine, Edgar, don't blame Miss Swanson. I must have just been too tired yesterday, my immune system's down, that's why the allergy. It has nothing to do with the bedding..."

Saying that was as good as pinning it squarely on me.

Edgar's head snapped toward me, his eyes gone cold.

"Althea Swanson, was this you? You deliberately swapped in unwashed bedding to get back at Florence?"

I looked at his enraged face, and felt nothing at all.

"I went to sleep as soon as I finished moving my things yesterday. I never touched the bedding in the master bedroom."

"If it wasn't you, then who?"

He pressed closer with every word, his voice rising.

"Who else in this house would target her? At the wedding you humiliated her at every turn, and now you're pulling these petty, underhanded stunts. How did I never see how vicious you are?"

Florence tugged at his arm from the side.

"Edgar, don't be angry, it really has nothing to do with Miss Swanson, it's my own fault..."

"Don't you speak up for her!"

Edgar flung her hand off and pointed at the entryway.

"Get out of here! Come back when you've come to your senses."

"Otherwise, don't ever step through this door again!"