The Canceled Wedding and The Mafia Bride’s Regret

That night, Diana didn't come home, and I didn't bother calling to ask where she

was.

I already knew what she was doing from Ian's social media.

After leaving the clinic that afternoon, they went straight back to Ian's house

to tell his family the news of the pregnancy.

In the photos, Ian's grandmother was holding Diana's hand affectionately, saying

something, while Diana rested her other hand gently on her stomach, smiling with

a tenderness I rarely saw.

In the five years we had been together, Diana had only visited my family's house

once, right after accepting my proposal.

Even though my parents lived less than a thirty-minute drive away, she had never

once initiated a visit before that. She claimed she didn't like being around

older generations; it made her uncomfortable.

And during that one visit, her attitude was strictly polite—nothing like the

genuine warmth she was showing Ian's family in those pictures.

I closed my eyes, forced down the bitter taste in my throat, and locked my

phone.

The next day, I met up with a few friends and broke the news that the wedding

was off.

Originally, Diana had said she hated weddings. She thought they were just

meaningless formalities. It was only because of my persistence that she

reluctantly agreed to a small ceremony, inviting only our closest family and

friends.

Everyone in our circle knew how much I loved her. Hearing that the wedding was

canceled left my friends in shock.

"Haven't you been crazy about Diana for years? Why give up now?"

An indescribable bitterness welled up inside me.

Severing a twenty-year bond... how could it be easy?

But the truth was, this relationship had been completely one-sided from the very

beginning. From start to finish, I was the one chasing after Diana. And she

never once slowed down for me.

I didn't care at first. I told myself that since I had finally gotten her to say

yes to marrying me, I could win her heart after the wedding. I was willing to

wait. Wait for the day she’d completely open up to me.

But everything changed six months ago when Ian—her so-called "savior"—showed up.

I finally realized that Diana wasn't cold and ruthless to everyone. Around Ian,

her expression was always soft. She never held back her smiles.

But with me, I was forever just a supporting character in her life.

What made it unbearable was how she pretended to ask for my consent, while

secretly going through with the artificial insemination behind my back.

That was the moment I finally understood: there was no future for me and Diana.

I didn't tell my friends the whole truth. I just said I was taking a new

hospital position and would be off the grid for long stretches of time. To make

it up to them, I stayed out late drinking before finally heading home.

When I walked into the apartment, Diana had just gotten back too.

She smelled the alcohol on me, frowned, and took a few steps back. Covering her

nose and mouth with one hand, she said impatiently, "Stay away from me. Don't

get that alcohol stench on me."

I let out a self-deprecating laugh.

She was probably worried the smell of alcohol would affect the baby. After all,

she was pregnant now.

I didn't say a word. I just turned around and went into the bathroom to take a

shower.

When I came out, Diana was sitting on the sofa, texting furiously on her phone,

her eyes brimming with a smile.

I glanced at her and planned to head straight to the bedroom to sleep.

To my surprise, she suddenly called out to me. "There's something we need to

discuss."

I stopped in my tracks.

The last time I heard that exact phrase was a month ago, when she first brought

up having a child with Ian. We had argued for an entire month after that.

Now that she was already pregnant with his child, what else was there left to

discuss?

"Let's not go take the wedding photos tomorrow."

I glanced at the calendar on the desk. Under tomorrow's date, the words "Wedding

Photos" were clearly written.

I didn't know why Diana was suddenly canceling the shoot, but I had already

planned to walk away from this marriage anyway. Even if she hadn't brought it

up, I would have found an excuse to cancel. Now that she was the one suggesting

it, it not only saved me the trouble but actually brought me a sense of relief.

I nodded, my tone perfectly calm. "Alright. I'll call the photographer and

cancel."

As soon as the words left my mouth, Diana froze. She clearly hadn't expected me

to agree so readily.

She paused, then barely masked a flicker of unease. "You don't need to cancel

it."

She continued, "Ian said he might never get the chance to get married in his

lifetime. He wants to take a set of wedding photos with me, just to feel like

he’s been married once so he won't have any regrets."

"Let Ian take the photos with me tomorrow. We can always do ours later."

Her tone was flat and casual, like she was deciding what to have for dinner. As

if this was the most normal suggestion in the world. It was exactly like that

day a month ago when she told me about the artificial insemination. On the

surface, she was "discussing" it with me, but her words made it clear she had

already made her choice. She was just letting me know.

But what she didn't know was that we didn't have a "later."

I gave a soft reply: "Okay." Then I turned around and headed to the bedroom to

rest.

The wedding wasn't happening anyway. Who Diana took wedding photos with had

absolutely nothing to do with me anymore.

Watching my back as I walked away, a trace of inexplicable anxiety crept into

Diana's chest.

I was far too calm. I hadn't even asked a single question. All the excuses and

arguments she had prepared were completely useless. She had expected me to get

emotional, to interrogate her about this sudden decision, but I gave her no

reaction at all.

The next morning, I woke up just in time to see Diana getting ready to leave.

As she slipped on her shoes, she instructed, "After the photoshoot, Ian and I

are going to take a little vacation. He’s always wanted to visit Hokkaido, so

I’m going with him."

"Let’s just keep the wedding simple. I don’t have time for rehearsals or dealing

with the setup. You handle the decisions; you don’t need to ask me."

I stared down at my toast, chewing slowly, and replied in a detached voice,

"Okay."

Keep it simple.

This wedding wouldn't just lack photos, guests, or an officiant. It wouldn't

have a groom, either.

Seeing me eat my breakfast so calmly, Diana thought for a second and added,

"After the wedding, let's go to Europe for our honeymoon. I remember you've

always wanted to go."

In the past, hearing her bring up a honeymoon on her own would have made me

ecstatic. I would have started planning the itinerary immediately. After all, I

had begged her to travel with me countless times, but she always refused, saying

she didn't like leaving the city and found traveling too exhausting.

Now, I just focused on my bread, showing absolutely no reaction.

Diana wanted to say something else, but when she glanced at the clock on the

wall, she hurriedly opened the door to leave. "We'll talk when I get back," she

threw over her shoulder.

I picked up the calendar on the table and used a marker to draw a huge X over

the words "Wedding Photos."

Twelve days left.

After breakfast, I started cleaning the apartment, taking the opportunity to

throw out unnecessary things.

The photo album that held no more than five pictures of us, the dust-covered

projector in the corner, that set of matching couple’s pajamas we never wore...

In our five years together, every single item in this place was something I had

carefully picked out and slowly accumulated, turning an empty apartment into a

warm little home.

But if you looked closely, you'd realize Diana had never used most of it.

She used to say that even though we were dating, she was still an independent

individual. She hated matching couples' items because they made her feel tied

down.

Since that was the case, I might as well clear them out early, and let those

memories fade into dust.