He Gave My Wedding Dress Away

Perhaps the air conditioning temperature in the waiting room was set too low, as I felt increasingly chilled to the bone the more I thought about it.

When Ethan reached for my hand, I yanked it away.

I looked up at him steadily. "Get the wedding dress back. I don't want her wearing it."

Ethan frowned. "Don't be difficult, Lou. It's just a ceremony. We can have ours anytime."

The downturned corners of his mouth and the irritation in his eyes cut me deeply.

I said to him, "The dress is one thing, but if she wants to hold a wedding ceremony, does the groom have to be you?"

Was Anna merely making outrageous demands using her serious illness as leverage, or had he been emotionally detached all along and was just looking for an excuse?

Perhaps stung by my bluntness, his expression darkened.

Ethan pulled away from me and walked toward the door, tossing his final words over his shoulder.

"Dating you has become completely exhausting. You never consider my dignity and just always insist on making everyone look bad."

Was I the one not considering his dignity?

Was I truly the one being unreasonable here?

The sound of the door locking snapped me back to reality.

I gathered my skirt and pounded on the door. "I won't agree to this! The wedding I've carefully prepared for and anticipated for so long is not just some ceremony..."

Ethan's impatient voice rang out through the door, "Can't you show some compassion? She's dying. What's wrong with letting her have this moment?"

She was dying, and I had already made concessions for so many years because of her illness. Despite this, I was expected to hand over my own wedding and husband.

Even so, was I responsible for her illness?

I gripped the doorknob, calming myself. "Think carefully, Ethan Westbrook. You might regret this."

The voice outside paused, then the determined footsteps gradually faded away.

I slid down to the floor, still clutching my extravagant gown while feeling utterly empty inside.

She had actually ruined my wedding.

Anna had succeeded.

My phone rang urgently on the makeup table. It was my parents calling.

The call disconnected before I could answer.

The waiting room was just behind the reception hall, separated by a single door. I could clearly hear the commotion erupting inside — gasps of surprise and murmurs of confusion.

Then, guided by the emcee, applause filled the air.

Anna's social media account sent me another video.

The camera focused on the large projection screen where all the engagement photos Ethan and I had painstakingly created had been digitally altered, with Anna's face replacing mine in every single one.

All those hours spent sweating under the hot sun in full makeup, the day-long photoshoot that left my back aching and feet blistered, the countless poses we'd adjusted for perfect framing — all of it had become Anna's triumph.

This infuriated me even more than Ethan's words.

Though my hands trembled with anger, I still tapped to open the next video. In it, she glided down the aisle toward Ethan, bathed in the spotlight.

In the darkened audience behind her, I could see my parents. Their faces were drawn with distress as they searched frantically for me, but two security staff prevented them from leaving their seats.

Seeing this, I finally broke down, my tears falling onto my parents' faces on the phone screen.

I had chosen the wrong man.

Why did I have to drag my parents into this humiliation?

I simply could not bear to watch any more videos.

As the celebration continued on the other side of the wall, my mind gradually cleared.

After a long, hard look in the mirror, I peeled off the ill-fitting wedding gown, removed my makeup, and changed back into my street clothes.

I felt nothing but relief.

Well, at least I could thank God that I saw his true colors before we signed the marriage certificate.