Meeting My Ex-Husband at My Wedding

I snapped back to reality and asked which hospital they had gone to before following them there.

Tom hesitated for a moment, then agreed to take me along.

I stood at the door of the hospital room, watching as Westria nestled into Preston's arms.

She shot me a challenging glance, then weakly spoke, her voice filled with fake vulnerability:

"Preston, I’m so sorry. I ruined Felicity’s birthday party."

"It’s because of my fragile health… It’s all my fault."

She coughed a few times, as if preparing to slap herself.

Preston stopped her, his voice full of concern.

"You’ve always had a weak constitution. Why didn’t Reuben take better care of you all these years?"

She choked on her words, tears welling up.

"I broke up with Reuben a long time ago… Preston, do you still have feelings for me?"

Preston hesitated, not answering.

Westria lowered her head, sobbing.

"Preston has Felicity now—an accomplished, beautiful wife. I’m no match for her. I regret it so much. If only I had stayed by your side back then…"

Preston frowned, clearly irritated by her self-pity, and said firmly:

"Felicity is an old woman who’s good for nothing. She doesn’t compare to you."

I staggered backward, covering my ears, not wanting to hear any more.

I grew up in an orphanage and never trusted anyone except myself.

No one ever taught me what love was.

But for the first time in my life, I felt loved. I thought he was the one I could trust with my whole heart.

He told me he wanted me to have the best life, that he didn’t want me out there struggling.

He said he never wanted to be apart from me again, always worrying about me.

He wanted to come home and see a light on for him.

He wanted me to be the woman behind him—

To pick him up when he was drunk, to make dinner for him after work,

To manage everything at home.

He never let me interact with his family, saying he was afraid they’d get jealous and hurt me.

I believed him, and soon enough, it felt like I’d become the woman who stayed home, waiting for him to have free time.

But his free time seemed to shrink, and eventually, he didn’t even need me to pick him up when he was drunk.

This birthday party only happened because Westria had come back to the country.

It was only then that Preston thought to invite her, along with everyone else he knew.

Now, in his eyes, I had become a useless, tired woman.

My heart sank, and I forced a smile.

I didn’t want to interrupt their time together, so I silently left and went home.

I texted him, asking when he would be back, but got no response.

He never knew that, after we got married, many of his exes sent me messages, trying to provoke me on Instagram.

I’d never paid any attention to them, but today, I suddenly felt like looking.

So I approved a bunch of Instagram requests and scrolled through them.

The first picture that caught my eye was one of Westria snuggling up to him.

Thank you, Preston, for saving me.

Preston came back the next day, the dark circles under his eyes from staying up all night with her clearly visible.

He brought me a gift but didn’t explain anything—he just wanted to go straight to bed.

I recognized the brand—it was from the Reutherford Group.

I spoke up, my voice steady:

"Did Westria ask you to bring this?"

Preston paused for a moment, then replied impatiently:

"The situation was urgent yesterday, you know that. I didn’t have the mood to celebrate your birthday."

"Just the fact that I brought you something should be enough. Don’t worry about where it’s from."

I gave a small, bitter smile.

"I heard she was your first love. So you spent the whole night with her, huh? You didn’t even notice my messages?"

Preston frowned and said sharply:

"I’m a married man now. She’s just my sister. Don’t overthink it."

With that, he stormed upstairs without another word.

I wasn’t sure if he was reminding me of something, or reminding himself.

Can I still trust you, Preston?

I touched the ring on my finger and closed my eyes, silently hoping I could give us one more chance.