Left Behind on My Wedding Day

It took me a long time to gather myself enough to stand.

As I descended the stairs, my ankle twisted painfully, sending a sharp jolt through me. I glanced down at my shoes—my heels had already rubbed my skin raw, leaving a bloodied line at the back.

So, it wasn’t just the wedding dress that didn’t fit. The heels didn’t either.

I used to think he was just too busy to bother with trivial details and too preoccupied to understand these "women’s matters."

I raised my head and looked again at the white roses and violets arranged in the garden. They were Anne’s favorite flowers.

It all made sense now. None of this was ever meant for me.

Even earlier, walking along the garden path to the wedding venue, my feet had already been rubbed raw. Now, with a twisted ankle and stepping over gravel, every step felt like torture.

Servants passed me without a glance, their heads lowered as they carried trays of food into the banquet hall. No one offered me a hand. Why would they? Just as I turned to leave, Evan had ordered them not to interfere.

I kicked off the heels and tossed them aside. If they weren’t mine, I didn’t want them.

Barefoot, I stepped onto the sharp gravel, each agonizing step leaving fresh bruises until I finally reached the entrance.

I pulled out my phone to book a ride to the hospital, but when it came time to pay, my bank account balance flashed, showing insufficient funds.

The sky had grown dark and heavy with swirling clouds that threatened a downpour at any moment.

How could my balance be zero?

I checked again and again, logging out and refreshing the app, but the result didn’t change.

It was still zero.

A cab I managed to hail slowed briefly before the driver sneered at me. "No money? Then don’t waste my time."

The car sped off, leaving me standing there humiliated.

I thought long and hard, and only one explanation came to mind: my parasitic family.

At a time when I needed support the most, they had already hidden their knives, ready to strike when I was at my weakest.

I sat on the curb, hugging my knees, until the chime of my phone pulled me from my thoughts.

Evan’s voice came through with a tone of condescension, as if he were coaxing a stray cat or dog.

"The ceremony is over. You can come back and take a group photo with us. Otherwise, there won’t be anything to look at on our anniversary."

"No need." I wiped the water from my face and only then noticed it had been raining for an hour, leaving me drenched to the bone.

"Claire, I’m giving you a way out, but you’re refusing it! What’s gotten into you?" Evan’s tone grew colder.

"You don’t have a penny to your name right now, and if you keep acting ungrateful, I won’t hesitate to let you find out what it’s like to live on the streets."

"How do you know I don’t have any money?" I asked, stunned.

He let out a scoff, his voice dripping with disdain. "From your greedy parents and brother. Do you think I wouldn’t notice? They treat me like an ATM, showing up every other day to ask for money. It’s exhausting. So, I gave them your bank card password."

I froze, the weight of his words crushing me.

"But don’t worry, I can support you, no problem, but I’m under no obligation to take care of your family."

So that was it. Years of hard work, the savings I’d carefully built up—they had drained it all, leaving me nothing.

"You come with so much baggage," he sneered. "Your entire freeloading family, all their endless troubles. Anne never drags me into these kinds of messes."

His words cut deeper than the cold rain.

Anne was ever so sweet, so considerate, and so perfect in his eyes.

He actually believed she had never bothered him?

My mind flashed back to when I just got pregnant. My parents had come demanding money again. Knowing I’d need the savings during maternity leave, I refused for the first time.

That was all it took for my brother to explode in anger, accusing me of growing a backbone after marriage. In the scuffle, he shoved me down the stairs.

I had nearly lost the baby. My arm was dislocated from the fall as I desperately protected my stomach.

When I called Evan, he was busy comforting Anne, who had run away from home after an argument with her father.

The moment Evan realized it was another issue with my family, he grew impatient and tossed the phone aside, barely listening to what I had to say.

Instead, he focused on soothing Anne, promising that if her parents favored her brother again, he wouldn’t hesitate to make them suffer some business losses.

I clutched my dislocated arm, redialing his number over and over. When he finally picked up, all I got was a curt response, "Handle it yourself."

To make matters worse, he had already taken it upon himself to share my bank card password with my family, claiming it was the last time he’d clean up my mess.

The call was still connected when Anne’s playful voice rang out in the background, "Evan, if Claire doesn’t come back, it’ll just be the two of us standing in the center. Won’t she get jealous?"

Evan’s reply was laced with indifference, clearly meant for me to hear.

"Don’t worry about her. She brought this on herself. Even if she doesn’t show up for the photo, she still owes you an apology."

I stayed silent, hanging up without a word. Then, swallowing my pride, I borrowed money from a friend and headed to the hospital to register at the obstetrics and gynecology department.