Meeting My Ex-Husband at My Wedding

Three years into our marriage, Preston Slater walked out of my birthday party, holding another woman in his arms.

People tried to explain, saying she was his first love.

Later, his first love nearly ran me over with her car.

But Preston? He was only concerned with pulling her into his arms, scolding me for causing trouble for her.

At the hospital, he comforted her, telling me I was just an "old woman"—that he was long over me, and I couldn’t even compare to her.

This time, I didn’t wait for an explanation. I left him with a divorce agreement and my wedding ring.

I packed my bags and went to Italy to study abroad.

He thought it was just a game to make him stay, and didn’t care at all.

Until six months later, when he saw a photo of Jack Grayson and me kissing passionately in the rain.

He shoved his first love aside, hopped on the fastest flight, and appeared right in front of me.

Jack smiled at him and said:

"Are you here to congratulate us on our engagement, dear ex-husband?"

...

At the birthday party, I was about to blow out the candles when suddenly someone collapsed across from me. Preston, who was standing beside me, rushed to help immediately.

I instinctively grabbed his hand, but he shrugged it off.

When he saw the person had fainted, he scooped her up and ran out.

The crowd buzzed in a flurry of whispers.

“That’s Westria, the daughter of the Reutherford family.”

“I heard she was Mr. Slater’s first love, but then she fell for someone else and moved abroad.”

“Don’t tell me—his wife looks a little like her.”

...

His good friend Tom rushed over to comfort me.

“Sis, that’s the daughter of one of Preston’s close family business partners.

She’s always been like a little sister to him, but her health’s been fragile. He’s probably just really worried about her.”

Tom’s girlfriend, who was standing nearby, muttered,

“Look at how desperate he is. Doesn’t seem like just a little sister, does it?”

Before she could finish, Tom quickly covered her mouth.

I stood there frozen for a long time. The last time I saw him look that panicked was when I got hurt after graduating from college.

We met in our final year of university.

I was the campus beauty, and he was the charming heartthrob, always flashing cash.

As in many stories, he began pursuing me relentlessly.

Maybe it was my looks, or maybe he wanted to challenge my aloof “campus beauty” persona.

I never even gave him the time of day. A playboy like him was just playing around with feelings.

The one time I got fed up with his persistence, I said:

“Guys like you just want to date for fun, right?”

“I’m more traditional. When I date, it’s with marriage in mind. Can you handle that?”

He didn’t say anything, and after that, I didn’t see him around for a while.

Until one day, when I was undercover as a journalist and found myself in a life-threatening situation, he showed up, single-handedly rescuing me, with the police right behind him.

He trembled as he held me, comforting me.

In that moment, I felt an undeniable, strange sense of love.

Later, at the hospital, he dropped to one knee, pulled out a ring, and asked me to marry him:

“Felicity, I’ve thought a lot about what you said last time.”

“I like you, and I want to give you the best life possible. Will you marry me?”

I remembered the terrified look on his face when he rushed in to save me from the kidnappers.

For the first time, someone had risked everything to come to my side and save me.

It was the first time I acted impulsively, without thinking about anything else, and I said yes.