Married To My Ex-Lover: A heart shattered, a love reborn

Ethan’s eyes widened, his fingers digging into his flesh at her question. His green eyes locked on Jasmine, taking in the small furrow of her brow, the pause in her step, every tiny movement screaming pretense. 

“What a pretentious bitch.” He muttered under his breath, fists still clenched. “Not only did she leave years ago… she is still pretending not to know me.”

The broad grin on grandpa Wood’s face faltered, the sparkle in his eyes dimming as he watched their reactions.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the words caught in his throat, replaced by a sudden, uneasy silence.

Before anyone else could break the tension on the altar, Josh’s voice cracked behind Ethan.

“J-Ja—Jasmine?” He mouthed, eyes widened.

“It’s really you, Jasmine?” Donald took a step forward to take in the appearance of the bride, his lips parted, trying to believe what was going on. What kind of joke was fate playing between these two?

Jasmine’s gaze flickered from Donald’s face to Josh’s own, confusion clouding her expression.

I really don’t know these people. Why are they looking at me as if they’ve seen a ghost? She wondered.

“You left me eight years ago, and now you are here, pretending not to know me, standing in front of me as my bride?” Ethan said through gritted teeth before Jasmine could process what was going on.

“I would never marry you,” he said coldly. “Never.” A loud gasp filled the altar.

Jasmine’s eyes widened at Ethan’s words. Is this man a psycho? Her mind drifted far away, still not understanding why so much hatred was radiating from Ethan, which made her stomach twist.

Did he really think I’m happy getting married to a stranger? How dare he reject me? Jasmine’s fingers tightened around the bouquet in her hands, knuckles whitening around the delicate flowers.

Kenneth, who was seated in the front row, noticed the tension on the altar just like everyone else in the hall. 

As soon as Ethan turned around to leave the altar, he excused himself and rushed towards the altar before the paparazzi began taking pictures and videos about the Morgan’s scandal for tomorrow’s news.

“Jasmine, what’s Ethan saying? Did you guys really know each other? Grandpa Wood whispered, also confused by Ethan’s words and actions.

“Grandpa, I…” before Jasmine could clear her grandfather’s doubts, Kenneth stood between her and Ethan, his back facing her.

“And where did you think you were going?” Kenneth spat angrily, making Ethan freeze in place.

Ethan slowly turned around to meet his father’s blazing eyes. “Finish up with the wedding, Ethan. Don’t ruin my reputation. Remember our deal.” He whispered, warning him.

“And what if I don’t? Ethan snapped, barely controlling his emotions. His temple throbbed hard, enough to blur his vision.

Kenneth put on a sly smile, maintaining his composure in front of the prominent guests, trying as much as possible not to make them notice Ethan’s displeasure towards the marriage. 

“You know what’s at stake, son.” A smirk formed on his  lips as he threatened. “Try walking out of this place today, and by tomorrow, everyone in New York will know that you are no longer part of the Morgan’s legacy.”

“You dare!” Ethan hissed, eyes sparkling with fury. “I would never allow anyone to take what belongs to my mother and I for your mistress and her bastard.” Kenneth's smirk faltered, anger brewing in his chest at Ethan’s words. 

Had they been in other settings, he would have slapped Ethan without hesitation, but he barely contained his anger.

“Not only will Blake be my successor, he will take your place and get married to her.” He turned towards Jasmine who was listening to their conversation with her grandfather beside her.

The words hit Ethan like a punch in his face. His breath became shallow and sharp. He couldn’t describe what he was feeling — anger, shock, panic or anxiety. They all collided inside him.

Blake marrying Jasmine? Taking away everything he’d worked for over the years? Taking away the woman who once held his heart? That’s impossible.

The thought alone sent a burning rage through him — hot, possessive, uncontrollable. He didn’t want to marry Jasmine. He never wanted to see her for the rest of his fucking existence. But imagining anyone near her, especially Blake, almost made him explode.

Kenneth enjoyed the frustrated and helpless look on Ethan’s face. Seeing that he had come to terms with him, he leaned closer, his voice cold as he whispered. “So choose, Ethan. Walk away and lose everything. Or finish what you started…”

“Damn you, father!” Ethan hissed. Thanks to the soft wedding march playing in the background, their conversation wasn’t heard by the guests.

Kenneth stepped back after achieving his goal. A few minutes later, Jasmine was handed over to Ethan by her grandfather. 

“Go ahead, princess. Everything will be fine.” Grandpa Wood reassured Jasmine before he also stepped back.

The soft wedding music faded, and the priest cleared his throat.

Jasmine lifted her head, meeting Ethan’s green eyes calmly, a perfect image of a radiant bride. And Ethan, who had sworn never to look at her again, felt his heart slammed hard against his chest, her familiar grey eyes drawing him closer.

“Get a grip of yourself, Ethan.” He scolded himself silently. He was furious and shaken by the effect looking into her eyes still has on him, even after many years.

The priest began his recitation, and they turned towards him. Jasmine could feel many eyes on her, a mixture of admiration, curiosity, and jealousy. 

She tried as much as possible to distance herself from Ethan as the wedding progressed.

“It’s better you know where you stand.” He whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

Jasmine never expected Ethan to have such a fierce hatred towards her. All she had imagined was two strangers forced into marriage by their families, not this.

Without her grandfather’s pressure, she would still be in Paris, enjoying her life. She had sacrificed so much for this sham marriage only to be faced with loathing.

After the priest finished his recitation, Josh placed a small velvet box with wedding rings on the table. Ethan took the small wedding band and slid it into Jasmine’s finger, avoiding eye contact with her.

When she lifted the larger ring, he took it from her and placed it on his own finger.

“What a show.” Jasmine mouthed as Ethan slid the ring in his finger.

“I pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest shouted into the microphone, his voice echoed through the hall. He motioned toward the big open book lying on the table. 

“Uhhhh,” Ethan let out a low groan at the priest’s words. Jasmine’s face was blank, also processing that she was married just like that.

The guests erupted into claps and soft cheers. Cameras took pictures and videos of the happy moments created by the couple to deceive everyone.

There was no “you may now kiss the bride” part, and Jasmine sighed softly. It’s better that way. She didn’t want to force the tension between them into a public display. 

Ethan walked forward and picked the pen on the table. He signed his name on the marriage book and returned the pen back to its position. His gaze was everywhere except Jasmine. Jasmine stepped forward. 

She picked the pen and signed her name. She quickly glanced over her husband’s name. ‘Ethan Morgan.’ A slight headache hit her as she whispered the name, but it left immediately just like it came.

Ethan tried all his best not to look her way. Having her close with her scent clouding his senses made emotions he thought he had buried, rose again.

Minutes later, the reception began. Jasmine moved to a corner, observing quietly. She wasn’t familiar with many people in the room. 

Most of the guests were strangers. It has been years since she was in such a gathering. After moving to Paris, all her time was dedicated to her studies and research. 

She sat in a corner like a guest. She wished she could fasten the hand of the clock. Her eyes kept on drifting towards Ethan, still thinking about his earlier rejection. He never for once looked over.

Almost all the young women in the hall had eyes on him. It didn’t bother her. He was quite handsome and wealthy. A man like him would surely have plenty of women chasing after him.

Daniel walked over. “I still can’t believe you are married. It all felt like a cosplay.” He sighed as he settled himself into the chair beside Jasmine.

Jasmine managed a small, amused smile. “I’m also finding it difficult to believe I’m married.” 

Daniel leaned closer. “I hope he treats you better. With all the information I’ve gathered about him, he doesn’t seem reliable.” He whispered.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. Daniel has done it again. Sometimes, she wondered why Daniel had gone into medicine. He could have passed for an FBI.

“Really, what did you find about him?” She replied dryly as she grabbed a cake not far away.

“Your husband isn’t an ordinary person, Jasmine. He is the heir of the Morgan empire. From all I found on him, he had been with many women over the years. Let’s hope he will be faithful with you because you aren’t close to the type of women he likes.”

“Interesting,” Jasmine muttered, earning her a disgusted look from Daniel. 

“Is that all you would say after all my efforts?” He whined.

Jasmine couldn’t help smiling. That should be her first genuine smile today.

But before she could enjoy it, two women and a man, putting on blue dresses and suit, walked towards them.

“Jasmine, it’s been a while.”

Jasmine's smile froze as she heard those familiar voices buzzing in her ears. Her grip on her wedding dress tightened. Unpleasant memories surged like wildfires. 

No, I can’t let them see me crumble. They mustn’t get to me. She braced herself. She drew in a deep breath , forcing a cold, polite smile.

“Mom, Dad, Yvonne. You guys finally remember me.” Her voice was calm, devoid of any emotions anyone seeing her family after eight years should have.

In that instant, the weight of the day crashed down on her; a wedding she had never wanted, a groom who loathed her, and her parents standing there, ready to claim their share of her sorrow.

Jasmine realized with a sinking chill in her chest. She shouldn’t have returned to New York.