He Gave My Wedding Dress To His Secretary

Despite the heaviness in my heart, my steps didn't falter as I walked away from seven years of confinement with belongings that truly belonged to me.

On the street, a couple approached, sharing a single ice cream cone, the girl beaming with happiness, the boy's eyes brimming with tenderness and affection. Watching them brought tears to my eyes.

Weren't Colton and I like that once, back in our early twenties?

Our first encounter was one of those familiar tales—he was the hero who saved me. I was working part-time as a waitress to cover my living expenses when a customer got too handsy. My cries for help were ignored by the manager, who even forbade anyone from stepping in. Just as I mustered the courage to swing a bottle at the man's head, someone else did.

That someone was Colton.

He protected me like a guardian angel, assuring me with a smile, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”

It was my first taste of being shielded by someone.

I knew who Colton was—a celebrated scholar at the university and the son of a wealthy family, whereas I was a poor girl, shunned by my father and orphaned by my mother. I kept my feelings of admiration to myself.

Unexpectedly, after that day, Colton took me under his wing. Nobody bothered me anymore, and he even came to pick me up from work every day.

Despite reminding myself that Colton and I came from different worlds and wouldn’t end well, I yearned desperately for love.

After my mother passed, I lived alone for eight years, accompanied only by the endless nights and solitude.

So naturally, we ended up together.

I once confided in Colton that when I was twelve, my father had an affair and wanted to divorce my mother. She refused, so he moved out, lived with his mistress, and divorced two years later. On the day of my father's wedding to his mistress, my mother wore her bridal gown again and jumped from the twentieth floor.

Her blood stained the white dress a horrifying red.

I watched her die right before my eyes; it’s something I’ll never forget.

That’s why I swore my wedding dress would never be white.

If the dress was white, I’d know Colton didn’t really want to marry me, and I would leave on my own.

“I’ll always remember; you’ll be my only bride,” Colton, at 22, tightly embraced me, promising.

Knowing my background, Colton's family would never approve of me as their daughter-in-law, so I worked even harder. I opened a small studio, taking on every project, earning as much as I could.

Yet, to Colton’s family, I remained beneath them, a lowly orphan without parents.

Watching Colton, a privileged soul, humbly bow to them, begging for their acceptance of me, I swallowed every indignity without complaint.

Even though Colton's persistence led us to register our marriage, his family still didn’t acknowledge me, refusing us a wedding and demanding I give up my career to care for him.

For the sake of love, I dissolved my thriving studio to become a full-time wife.

Only this year, with my pregnancy, did my relationship with Colton’s family ease, and they finally allowed us to plan a wedding.

Every woman dreams of her own wedding.

Seven years, and I thought I had finally endured until I’d reached the end.

But just as my dream was about to come true, it crumbled.

Seven years ago, I should have realized Colton and I were never meant to be.

In the end, I returned to the lonely home I once knew.

I remember leaving it seven years ago, full of hope that someone would be there during the long, dark nights.

But after all the wandering, it was still just me, alone.