Booked to Photograph a Wedding, the Groom Was My Fiancé

For three years I photographed marriage registrations to heal my own broken mind. Then I got a booking for my fianc and my sister's wedding registration.

Roman Vaughn had one hand laced through my sister's fingers. His other hand reached over and stroked my hair.

Baby, my love, my time, my energy, they've all gone to you. I'm just giving Laurel a title. You won't mind, will you?

I was so furious the room spun. That was when my family and my best friend arrived.

I thought they had come to stand up for me.

Instead, they had formed their own little cheering party, there to guard the happy couple through the registration.

When they saw me shaking too hard to press the shutter,

my parents slapped me across the face, twice, and told me to crawl back to the psychiatric hospital.

My brother grabbed me by the collar and asked why I hadn't just died back then.

My best friend threw herself in front of my sister like a guard and screamed that I had no heart.

And then it hit. The panic seized me, and I dropped to the floor, convulsing.

The foam I spat up ran back into my nose. I could barely breathe.

But they thought I was fishing for sympathy.

They swept off together to celebrate the registration.

In the end it was a member of the staff who got me to the hospital.

The first thing I did after they pulled me back to life was open the website for the Africa-based photographer post.

I stared at the box marked reason for applying for a long time before I wrote it out, one word at a time:

"No one loves me, so I'll go find the way to a world that does."

The nurse making rounds saw I was awake and hurried over.

"Ma'am, where's your family?"

I opened my mouth to answer, and right then a photo popped up in the family group chat. A family portrait. Without me in it.

My parents had written under it: "We really are a happy family."

My hand went still.

Three seconds later I locked the phone and shook my head at the nurse.

"I don't have a family anymore."

Something like pity crossed her eyes. She said a few more things and moved on with her rounds.

I stared at the white ceiling.

Three years ago someone stalked and hurt me, and I came away with severe post-traumatic stress disorder.

The doctor said it would help me recover if I spent time around other people's happiness.

So I started shooting marriage registrations, and slowly I did get better.

But I never once imagined that the last booking of my career would have my own fianc and my own sister as the couple in front of my lens.

Footsteps cut through my thoughts.

I turned my head, and Roman was already standing at the foot of the bed.

His suit was crisp and perfect, the one I had designed just for him, part of a matching pair for the two of us.

Except he had worn it to register his marriage to Laurel Matthews.

"Roman..."

My throat ached as I said his name.

"Mm?"

"Still crying so easily?"

Roman sighed softly, cupped my face in one hand, and wiped my tears away as gently as if I were something precious.

His other hand settled lightly over mine.

Warmth spread through me. I started to curl my fingers back around his.

The next instant he wrenched down hard and ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand.

The needle tore free of the vein, and blood flicked out in bright drops.

"The doctor already said you're cured. Stop the act and come home with me. Laurel's getting impatient."

His voice was still gentle. The words turned me cold all over.

I clutched the back of my hand against the pain, but Roman hauled me up and marched me out to the car.

By the time we reached the house the blood on my right hand wouldn't stop. It split into several thin streams and ran down over my knuckles to the floor,

spattering into a small red bloom.

"Dad, Mom, I brought Ellie home."

"Good. Let's get started."

Mom was brushing out Laurel's hair. She didn't even lift her eyes.

"Started with what?"

My best friend caught the blankness on my face and jerked her chin at my camera.

"The photo review."

Laurel smiled and crossed to Roman's side.

"Sis, Roman paid you thirty grand to give me my pictures. You wouldn't want to let me down, would you?"

The moment she finished, every pair of eyes in the room turned to me.

I bit down on my lower lip, took out the camera, and plugged it into the laptop.

After a short load, the first photo appeared.

Roman and Laurel at the registration counter, kissing.

The image was a little blurry. My hands had been shaking too badly.

Laurel's mouth pulled down at once.

"Sis, are you still blaming me and Roman for getting married? Is that why you shot such garbage?"

I opened my mouth to explain.

A slap landed across my face.

The world tilted. My ears rang, my head swam.

Dad shook out his hand.

"Ellie Matthews, your jealousy has always been too much."

"From now on, one bad shot, one slap."

I lowered my eyes, swallowed the coppery sweetness in my throat, and kept scrolling.

The third was a reject. Mom slapped me.

The sixth was a reject. My brother slapped me.

At the twenty-second, my best friend sighed, and then put her whole arm into the slap.

At the fiftieth, Laurel turned to Roman, wheedling.

"Honey, you do this one."

Something reluctant flickered in Roman's eyes.

He obeyed her anyway.

I stared straight at him.

Roman shut his eyes, raised his hand high, and brought it down hard.

I went straight to my knees.

Five rejects, five slaps.

They knocked the sense clean out of me.

Laurel skipped off happily to edit the photos.

Only then did I close my fist.

"Can I go now?"

Dad's face hardened.

"Go where? This is a joyous day. Of course the whole family eats together. If you dare leave, you're spitting in your sister's face."

I pulled my foot back at once.

I knew better than anyone what came of spitting in my sister's face.

In school I ranked above her, and she said I'd made her lose face.

My parents transferred me to a school out in the country.

When I landed a job at a top company while she sat unemployed, she said I'd made her lose face.

My parents took my brother and raised hell at my office until I was fired.

I couldn't gamble on it.

So I sat down obediently at the table.

Twenty dishes were laid out.

Every one of them Laurel's favorite.

Smiling, she set a shrimp in my bowl.

On instinct I moved it over to Roman.

Roman's long fingers worked, peeled the shrimp clean, and set it back in my bowl.

I stared at him, unbelieving.

"You know perfectly well..."

After all our years together, no one knew better than Roman that I was allergic to seafood.

He only gave a soft laugh.

"Laurel picked that out for you. Eat it."

My nose stung, the swelling on my cheeks sharp and clear.

When I put the shrimp in my mouth, the tears slid down on their own.

They dripped onto the shrimp and went down with it.

Bitter enough to taste of salt.

Laurel laughed and set out crab, then squid, then scallops.

Roman prepared each one, and fed each one to me.

At last the meal was over.

My hands and feet had gone numb from the allergy.

My whole body burned and prickled.

Only then was I allowed to leave. I walked stiffly out the door.

The instant I stepped through it, my phone buzzed, and the alert made my heart jump.

"Ms. Matthews, your application for the Africa-based photographer post has been approved."

I didn't go back to the home I shared with Roman.

I spent the night in a hospital corridor instead, after they gave me the shot for the allergic reaction.

The moment Roman proposed to me and the sight of the two of them registering their marriage today kept flipping back and forth in my mind.

That night, I barely slept.

The next day, I meant to grab a cab to the visa center.

Then Roman called out of nowhere.

He told me to come to an independent designer's bridal shop.

I closed my eyes and didn't dare refuse.

When I got there, I found that besides Roman and Laurel, everyone else had come too.

The saleswoman had clearly never seen such a huge entourage, and the compliments kept coming.

"You must be so blessed, having a daughter like her."

I stood at the very back of the group and lowered my eyes.

Roman spotted me at a glance.

He always had that ability. No matter where I was, he could find me right away.

He parted the crowd, walked over to me, and took my hand.

"Laurel says she wants your opinion on the gowns too."

I said nothing.

Laurel started trying them on, one after another.

Roman played along, changing into one suit after another to match.

The longer I watched, the more my eyes began to sting.

By the eighth gown, Laurel let out a cry.

"No, these heels are killing me. I'm not wearing them anymore."

Mom pulled a pair of slippers from her bag at once.

"Mommy brought these for you ages ago."

"I'm not wearing slippers. They chafe."

Laurel's eyes rolled, and her gaze landed on me.

"Then why don't we have my sister lie on the floor, and I'll try them on standing on her hands? That way it's warm and comfortable."

"No."

My hands went behind my back on instinct.

For a photographer, these hands mattered more than anything.

"So much fuss."

My brother, out of patience, shoved me down to the floor.

"Laurel hardly ever asks for anything. What's the harm in giving her this?"

I hit the ground hard.

My best friend crouched down and pinned me.

"Ellie, all these years you've been sick, your family has worried themselves ragged over you, and even I've been worn out every single day. Now it's your turn to pay it back."

I fought with everything I had.

"You never took care of me at all. The moment you found out I was sick, you threw me straight into the psychiatric hospital!"

My parents' faces went dark. One came forward to hold me down, the other clamped a hand over my mouth.

"That's because you were too loose. Otherwise why were you the one who got hurt? How come no one else did?"

I stared at them, wide-eyed, and slowly the strength drained out of me.

It really does take family. They know exactly where to drive the knife so it hurts most.

The saleswoman looked away, unable to watch.

Seeing that I'd gone slack, Laurel beamed with an innocent smile, lifted the hem of her gown, and jumped down hard onto my hand.

"Ah"

In that instant the pain of splitting bone shot into my chest, and I couldn't breathe.

A scream leaked out through my fingers, breaking into a few agonized syllables.

Laurel gave another excited little twirl.

Tears blurred my eyes. I lay on the floor and met Roman's gaze.

Roman pressed his lips together and quickly looked away.

He turned to Laurel, the corner of his mouth curving up.

"Beautiful."

In that moment, I suddenly heard the sound of something breaking.

Not just a joint.

It was this heart of mine.

Laurel spent two hours trying on gowns.

Then the whole crowd swept her out with them.

When the sales associate helped me up, my hand was already twisted out of shape.

It hung limp at my side, like it had snapped.

I turned down her offer to drive me to the hospital and went to the ER on my own.

Before I left, I asked her for a copy of the security footage from before.

The doctor took one look at the state of me and scheduled surgery on the spot.

He asked, "How did it get this bad?"

I gave a bitter smile. "Somebody wanted to make sure I could never pick up a camera again."

The surgery went well enough.

The doctor said it would be at least a month before I could hold a camera.

A few days later, I was discharged.

The first thing I did was go to the mall for supplies I'd need in Africa.

And in the coffee shop on the third floor, I ran straight into Laurel.

The man across from her, laughing with her...

My eyes went wide.

It was him. Brad Lambert. The man who'd hurt me back then.

Back then I'd been torn open down below, rushed to the hospital, ten hours on the operating table.

When I opened my eyes again, Roman was holding my hand, swearing he'd find the man who did it and tear him apart.

Later, the case went to trial. Roman went in my place.

When he came back, I asked through my tears who the man was, why he'd done that to me.

Roman kept his head down. I couldn't read his face.

"His name is Brad Lambert. It was random. You were just a target."

"Forget him."

After that, he threw himself into my recovery and never once brought up revenge again.

I sat down quietly behind them, both hands clenched tight.

The longer I listened, the colder my body went.

"Miss Matthews. You promised me two million to ruin your sister, and you still owe me half a million. When am I getting it?"

Brad's mocking tone sent a prickle crawling across my scalp.

Laurel snapped, impatient,

"You'll get what's yours."

Brad burst out laughing.

"Fine. You keep your word, or I go public with the whole thing. How jealous you were that your sister found herself a good man, how you wanted her ruined."

The two of them kept talking, but my mind had gone blank. None of it landed.

Only those two words, "ruin your sister," circled and drove themselves into my heart.

Shaking all over, I half-stumbled, half-crawled my way out of the caf.

I ran the whole way to Roman's office.

I couldn't even wait for the elevator. I climbed to the thirteenth floor, gasping for breath.

"Roman!"

He looked stunned when he saw me.

He pulled me in against him, told me to calm down.

"What is it, what happened, baby?"

I dragged in a long breath, shaking hands fisting into his suit.

"RoRoman, I know now. The man who hurt me back then, it wasn't random. Laurel put him up to it. It was, it was her" My voice cut off.

Roman clamped a hand over my mouth.

I looked up and met his cold eyes.

"Don't bring it up."

Boom.

Something detonated in my head.

"What did you just say?"

Roman dropped his gaze and gripped my shoulders hard.

"I said don't bring it up. What happened back then, you know better than anyone."

"I had to fight down my own disgust just to stay with you. And now you want to rub salt in the wound?"

"On top of that, you want to slander Laurel. Laurel is so kind. Back then it was clearly you who" He stopped himself.

I took a step back.

When I lifted my head to look at him again, my teeth were chattering.

"I have proof."

Roman closed his eyes.

"I don't believe you, Ellie. You've slandered Laurel too many times."

"She isn't the person you make her out to be."

The color drained slowly from my lips.

I knew that even if I shoved the video right in front of Roman's eyes, he wouldn't believe it.

He wasn't finished.

"I never held it against you. Just the opposite. I'm ready to spend my whole life with you. That's the best possible outcome here."

"Go ahead and ask around. After something like that, what man wouldn't carry it inside him? Ellie, keep making a scene and it stops being polite."

I was quiet for a long time before I spoke.

"You don't believe me, Roman."

His lips trembled.

"I believed you too much, that's the problem."

I stared him down, stubborn, my eyes no longer able to hold the tears.

They fell one after another onto the back of my hand.

He looked back at me, just as silent.

The standoff dragged on and on.

In the end, Roman sighed and lifted me onto his lap.

From somewhere he produced a cake.

Berry flavored, a candle stuck in the top.

"Ellie, you have to understand, I do care about you."

"Otherwise I wouldn't have remembered your birthday when even you forgot it."

"Let the past be the past. Let's look forward, all right?"

"Happy birthday, Ellie. Blow out the candle."

Numbly, I opened my mouth.

The flame wavered but didn't go out.

Roman didn't notice, and went on,

"Ellie, this weekend, at Laurel's and my wedding, come and be our photographer. Laurel loves your work."

"Don't worry. Once I've given her this wedding, I'll come back to you, and we'll build a good life together."

"And stop slandering Laurel. She just gets a little moody sometimes. She hasn't done anything out of line."

I stared at the swaying flame and gave a mechanical nod.

Laurel insisted I take part in the wedding prep.

I went with them to pick out the diamond ring, choose the wedding candy, book the hotel.

I stood behind them, watching them stroll arm in arm, wrapped up in each other, my face perfectly still.

Roman was pleased.

He even went out of his way to ask whether I wanted to be a bridesmaid.

My expression didn't change.

Whatever you want.

He was so busy preparing for the wedding that he never noticed I'd already packed my bags.

On the wedding day, the Vaughns and the Matthews, both prominent families in the area, invited a great many guests.

Roman had messaged me early that morning.

Ellie, do you want me to come get you?

I replied fast.

No need. You're the groom. Just go get the bride.

Seeing me standing there typing, a staff member came over and asked warmly:

Miss, would you like me to take you to the check-in counter?

I nodded politely.

Flying to Kenya. It should be Ellis Island.

I pressed the phone dark.

Roman didn't know that the day of their wedding was the day I left.

In the gaps between helping them prepare, I'd sorted out my visa, packed my luggage, even carved out time to meet with a lawyer.

Everyone was focused on Laurel's happiness. No one noticed the signs that I was leaving.

The last call before the plane took off came from the lawyer I trusted.

He said: Ms. Matthews, I'm at the wedding.

I've organized all the evidence you gave me. The moment the bride walks out, I can release it.

I nodded, then pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in two, and dropped it in the trash.

The plane cut through the clouds, carrying me toward somewhere far away.

At that same moment, at the wedding, Mom and Dad realized I still hadn't arrived.

That wretched girl, how could she leave Laurel without a bridesmaid.

Mom stamped her foot.

My brother was breathing hard.

I've looked everywhere. She's not here, and her phone won't go through.

Dad's face was dark.

Ruining Laurel's mood. She really is asking for it.

Roman caught the commotion on this side and came over, champagne in hand.

Dad, Mom, what's going on?

Mom and Dad hesitated, mouths opening, but in the end they didn't say I was missing.

It's nothing.

But Roman swept his eyes around and sharply picked up on something.

He frowned slightly, staring hard into their eyes.

Dad, Mom... where's Ellie?