When My Groom Married My Dying Best Friend

At the wedding, my best friend was stepping in as the bride. My fiancé knelt before her with the engagement ring intended for me.

"Valerie, you have your whole life ahead of you. Charlotte's time is running out. Let's give her this wedding," he pleaded.

Charlotte, my best friend, shed tears dramatically, yet without hesitation, slipped my ring onto her finger. The crowd erupted in celebration, while I, the supposed bride, stood alone, feeling like I was the punchline of a cruel joke. I stayed calm and decided it was time to end this.

"Fine," I said coolly. "If you enjoy being 'the other woman,' then go ahead. I'm done."

My decision visibly shook Ricardo, who glanced at me with furrowed brows.

"Valerie, what are you talking about? I'm just planning to spend a few months with Charlotte, to fulfill her final wish."

"We were once close friends, Valerie. Are you really going to let me leave this world with regrets?" Charlotte asked, feigning a deep sorrow, as if this situation was entirely my doing.

"You said it yourself, that was in the past. I, Valerie Davis, don't associate with women who enjoy being someone's mistress," I replied with a cold smile, severing any ties between us.

"You've always liked to take what I discard, haven't you? And now, feigning a terminal illness just to snatch a man who isn't worth it? Are you really that desperate?" I continued, my voice dripping with disdain.

The people around us began murmuring, indulging in the spectacle.

"Wow, she's quite skilled at climbing the ranks," someone commented, referring to Charlotte.

Charlotte's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Valerie, I know you're upset with Ricardo for helping me fulfill my wish, but I truly am sick. Can't you just let me have this one thing, for old times' sake?" Charlotte said, pretending to be magnanimous, as if I were the villain in their story.

The crowd began buzzing with comments about fate and justice.

Charlotte's face shifted from pale to a sickly shade of green as she glanced helplessly at Ricardo, tears welling up in her eyes. Her performance was worthy of an award.

But Ricardo, naive and blinded, shielded her behind him. "Valerie, when did you become so heartless? You know Charlotte can't handle any stress. Why go out of your way to aggravate her? Will you only be satisfied when she's dead?" he barked at me while gently patting her back, trying to soothe her.

"Ricardo, don't be angry with Valerie. If she doesn't want to agree, then just let me die alone and forgotten. It's all my fault," Charlotte said, playing the self-sacrificing martyr.

Ricardo's anger only grew, "Valerie, after all these years together, I never thought you'd be so petty. Charlotte's genuinely sick, and you just keep slandering her."

He released Charlotte for a moment and reached for my hand, but I sidestepped him and delivered a sharp slap across his face. The sound echoed through the hall, silencing the room.

Ricardo looked at me in disbelief. He couldn't comprehend that the girl who once loved him deeply would ever strike him.

Charlotte, ever the actress, stepped in front of Ricardo, her eyes filled with faux innocence. "Valerie, don't hit Ricardo. It's all my fault. If you must, blame me."

She grabbed my hand and placed it on herself, but I pulled away, repulsed. Using the momentum, she dramatically fell to the floor, a move straight out of her manipulative playbook.

I picked up the microphone from the table and addressed the wedding guests who were still reeling from the drama.

"Dear friends and family, thank you for coming to celebrate the breakup between Ricardo and me. Enjoy the food and drinks," I announced, tossing the mic aside and striding out of the hall.

Ricardo's voice, hard with irritation, followed me, "Valerie's upset. She might..."

"Let her go," he replied coldly, indifferent to my departure.

That callousness finally severed the last of my feelings for him. In the past, no matter how many affairs he had, a few sweet words from him would bring me back. He assumed it was the same this time.

"I want to end things with you, Ricardo," I said, as a single tear rolled down my cheek—a final goodbye.

Facing away from him, I wiped my face and stood straighter.

"Valerie, you're being unreasonable. Why make a scene today?" he questioned, grabbing my wrist. I pulled free from him.

Behind us, Charlotte began to cough dramatically, clutching her chest for added effect. "Ricardo, I... I'm feeling faint..." she gasped, seizing his attention.

Ricardo released me and rushed to her side, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

With a sidelong glance at them, I turned and walked away. Ricardo had arranged for an in-house doctor to help Charlotte—something I never received, not even when I needed him.

I recalled the night I couldn’t get a ride home from work. I called Ricardo repeatedly. When he finally picked up, his response was a terse, "Figure it out yourself."

I walked home that night, my feet blistered from high heels, while a cold rain soaked my clothes.

The next morning, running a high fever, I asked him to fetch some medicine. "It's just a cold, Valerie. Why are you being so dramatic? Can't you handle it yourself?" was all the sympathy I received as he walked away.

That night, as Ricardo cooed over Charlotte's weakened state, I knew I couldn't endure this any longer. I resolved to leave the hall, only to be intercepted by my brother, Arthur—a staunch supporter of Charlotte.

"How could I have such a cruel sister? Even when Charlotte's so ill, you still pushed her!" he accused, his voice an indignant whisper.

"Are you planning to hit me for the love of your life, Arthur? Haven't you heard? She's already engaged," I replied, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

His eyes blazed with anger, "It doesn't matter. Hitting people is wrong. Apologize to Charlotte, now."

"Apologize? She doesn't deserve it."

My parents, drawn by the commotion, hurried over. "What happened? Are you hurt, son?" my mother fussed, barely noticing the tension between us.

"A slap won't kill you, Valerie. Stop threatening your brother with severing ties," my father scolded.

I laughed bitterly, "You ignore the humiliation I've endured, but the moment your precious son is slightly inconvenienced, you worry. Some parents you are."

"You're a disgrace, Valerie. You couldn't even keep your man, and now you're blaming others? It's your own fault," my mother chided.

With their support, Arthur grew bolder. "Just a lesson for you. Go apologize to Charlotte or deal with my fists."

"Over my dead body," I snapped back.

As we reached an impasse, Ricardo's mother, Yara, approached with a look of disdain. "Why all the noise? You've ruined the engagement party."

She had never approved of me—saw me as lowly, my family as opportunists. My parents' insistence on the dowry and Arthur's demands for business investment only confirmed her biases.

"Just disciplining this ungrateful daughter of ours, making sure she doesn't disturb your son," my mother simpered with a forced smile.

I left them behind, tired of the charade.

"Valerie, you don't even greet your elders. Truly uncultured," Yara remarked sharply.

At the exit, the venue security stopped me.

"Ms. Davis, we're sorry, but Ms. Richardson has instructed that you cannot leave until the ceremony concludes."

"Move out of my way," I demanded.

"We're just doing our job. Don't make it hard for us," the young man replied apologetically.

I gritted my teeth. Charlotte's manipulations ran deeper than I imagined.