The Runaway Groom

Gaius could hear the exhaustion in my voice.

After a brief silence, his tone softened slightly. "You're just upset about the wedding ceremony, aren't you? There's plenty of time for that. Michelle had a heart attack yesterday. If I hadn't rushed her to the hospital, who knows what might have happened?"

"And what about your social media post? Who was that meant for?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"That... that was just an emotional outburst. Do you have to make such a big deal out of it?" he retorted.

How had this turned into me making a big deal? Over the years, hadn't there been enough of these cryptic messages from him? Most of the time, I could pretend not to notice, giving him credit for maintaining the boundaries of a married man—polite and restrained. But that didn't mean I'd let him humiliate me the same way twice, especially not on my wedding day.

Michelle had been Gaius's junior back in school. At our small but warm wedding seven years ago, she had caused a similar scene. Just as the officiant was about to prompt the groom to say "I do," she burst into tears in the audience, creating chaos before collapsing on the spot.

Gaius had no choice but to rush her to the hospital. He stayed by her side for a full 48 hours. The wedding ended without resolution.

That day, his social media update read, "Safe and sound," followed by, "Tying the knot."

Too bad I hadn't grasped the implications back then. Not wanting to inconvenience our relatives again, we abandoned plans for a second ceremony.

When he saw how disappointed I was, he tried to comfort me. "Donna, don't be sad. When we're rich, we'll have one every year."

I had laughed happily then.

Seven years later, I was approaching thirty and wanted to make up for that regret. After all, youth only lasted so long. Yet once again, he had paused for her.

Michelle's tearful voice came through the phone. "Donna, I've always had poor health. I didn't mean to faint at your wedding. Cough... cough..."

Suddenly, someone snatched the phone away. Gaius's voice was sharp with anger. "Enough, Donna! You're already my wife. What more do you want? Michelle is in enough pain as it is. Why are you harassing a sick person?"

A bitter smile curled my lips. "Harassing? Don't you know? Michelle's suffering is because you've strung her along while being my husband. You made her a mistress."

Gaius fell silent.

They didn't realize that once I no longer felt the need to act nice, everything could be laid bare. The proud Michelle didn't want to be the other woman, yet here she was.

Sure enough, muffled sobs came from the other end. Gaius quickly switched to a softer tone. "Michelle, don't get upset. I'll make her apologize to you."

Then he turned his attention back to me, his voice cold and commanding. "Donna, Michelle's emotions are unstable. I want you to go to her immediately—within half an hour. If not, I'll sign the divorce papers as soon as I receive them. Don't think your childish reverse psychology will work on me..."

Before he could finish, I hung up. Knowing there was no way to turn this around didn't stop my heart from aching at his blatant favoritism. Ten years wasted, seven years of disillusionment—I hadn't escaped any of it.

Gaius and I met at a college social event. He was tall, cheerful, and exactly my type.

From then on, I couldn't stop myself. To chase him, I even gave up an exchange program and stayed in the country. I visited his college whenever I had free time, staging "coincidences" until, on the ninth try, he finally agreed—reluctantly—to give us a shot.

Later, it was me who suggested we register our marriage. I never thought that because I pursued him first, our love was cheapened.

He had been a decent boyfriend and, for a time, a good husband. It was only that faintly drifting heart I thought I could hold onto.

After marriage, we struggled and eventually built a successful business. As more accomplished women surrounded him, I didn't let it bother me.

Even when he went out for social engagements, facing temptation, I didn't feel threatened—until Michelle returned.

That was when my confidence began to waver. I went from tantrums to silent observation, constantly convincing myself that as long as he didn't cross the line, it was all in my head.

But my boundaries were repeatedly broken, and his world grew smaller until it could only fit Michelle.

When Michelle was upset, he canceled international conferences to comfort her. When she moved, he personally helped with the heavy lifting. When she fell ill, he stayed by her side day and night.

If I protested, I was being unreasonable and petty.

He forgot that I was the one he vowed to protect. He forgot that we struggled to have children and needed his support to build our family. During those difficult times, I clung to our vows, enduring endless injections and treatments alone.

Now fate was playing the cruelest joke. I was finally pregnant, but I couldn't keep the baby.