Ruined by the White Veil

The Wedding That Never Happened

In the end, the wedding never took place. I forced a smile, apologized to every guest, and returned all the gifts one by one.

Not long after, I fell gravely ill. When I finally woke, two days had passed.

By the time I was discharged, the city was abuzz with the year's most anticipated fashion show, and my collection was set to close the event.

The exhibition hall, set inside the Art Center, glittered beneath cascading crystal chandeliers.

The moment I stepped in, I could feel eyes turning toward me.

One of my competitors arched an eyebrow. "Well, Fiona, didn't you bring your husband today? I remember you saying you wanted to share every success with him."

I mumbled something about him meeting up with friends, hoping the lie sounded casual, but unease always betrayed me. Soon, the whispers began.

"I heard her groom walked out on their wedding day."

"Yeah, can you imagine? And she still dares to show up here."

"She's too ambitious. Finished an entire collection in three days, made everyone else look bad. No wonder no man can stand her."

I held a glass of champagne, lips curved in polite composure, while my trembling fingers exposed what I really felt.

I wanted to defend myself, to shout back, but I couldn't even tell who was talking.

I was born with a rare condition. No matter how long I'd known someone, their face remained unfamiliar.

Before, Vincent would always stand beside me. He'd whisper, "That's Mrs. Parker, and that's the representative from Versenne."

With him around, I could face anyone with ease. Now, he was gone. I couldn't tell who mocked me and who pitied me.

Murmuring an excuse, I slipped backstage into an empty lounge. Yet even there, the voices seeped through the walls.

"Who's she fooling? Fiona bragged about that wedding dress she hand-sewed with three thousand pearls, and now it's just trash."

"Who knows where Vincent went? Probably found someone new already."

I forced myself to focus on the fabric and designs spread before me, but my vision kept blurring. I wanted to believe Vincent hadn't abandoned me, that he truly was just out with friends. But what if he never came back?

The door suddenly creaked open. A tall man stood there, his black suit gleaming under the light.

I recognized it instantly. It was the one I'd designed for Vincent myself, a one-of-a-kind piece. It looked plain on the outside, but I’d poured my heart into every stitch and detail.

My heart tightened. I barely managed to whisper, "Vincent."

He seemed to pause when he heard that, but he didn't answer.

I dropped the fabric and stumbled toward him, throwing my arms around his chest. "You're finally back."

For a moment, his body tensed, but when he looked down at my tear-streaked face, his voice softened. "Yeah."