Dumping My Heartless Fiance At My Wedding

An hour to go until the wedding.
I sat at the makeup table, my heart racing as I stared at the photo on my phone.
It was a picture from Andrew's ex-girlfriend, Amelia, wearing the wedding dress I had chosen, her smile bright as she wrapped her arms around Andrew.
He was looking down at her, his eyes filled with tenderness.
She had messaged me: [He says I look better in this than you do.]
Then, with a hint of malice, she added: [If you want your wedding ceremony to go smoothly, you might want to beg me.]
I shut my phone with a snap and turned to my makeup artist. "Is it true that the dress I ordered can't be worn because of a sizing mistake?"
This bridal shop was also handling my makeup and photography, and I had invested a lot of money and time into planning for this day.
Yet, the makeup artist couldn't meet my gaze.
I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach.
I remembered how, during our dress fitting, Andrew had either been on the phone or glued to his laptop, while with Amelia, he was all smiles.
I clenched my phone tightly and took a deep breath. "Please go get Andrew for me."
The assistant hurried off to find him.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the bodice of my dress too tight, making it hard to breathe.
Maybe this dress was never meant to be mine.
Before Andrew arrived, the officiant walked in, his expression a mix of guilt and sympathy. "I'm sorry, Ms. Moore, but you won't need to attend."
I couldn't help but laugh, though it was more of a bitter chuckle. "Are you telling me that on my wedding day, I'm not allowed to show up? Is that what you're saying?"
He opened his mouth to explain, but before he could utter a word, Andrew stepped into the room.
"It was my decision," he said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying him.
Andrew wore the white suit I had picked out for him, but the bow tie was not the one I had chosen.
I raised an eyebrow, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Amelia is having surgery soon; the hospital gave her a critical condition notice. Her only wish is to wear a wedding dress."
I scoffed. "At my wedding?"
I knew Amelia well.
It was only three years into Andrew and my relationship that I learned about his childhood love, who had lost all her hair to chemotherapy.
They had grown up together, their families close, and even after their breakup, they couldn't completely sever ties.
When Amelia fell ill and had to move away for treatment, her parents asked Andrew to look after her since he lived in the same city.
Initially, I respected her situation and felt sympathy for a woman so young, suffering from such a devastating illness.
But my feelings changed when, after a date, she expected Andrew to rush over with soup for her.
I had tolerated her because she was sick, and it was clear that Andrew understood my perspective and prioritized me.
He would report back to me about Amelia's needs, only visiting her in emergencies, and even then, I would tag along.
But now, I was left in the dark. When had he decided to let her wear my wedding dress? When had he chosen to replace me in this ceremony? I had no idea.

Maybe it was the air conditioning in the lounge that made me feel so cold, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt a chill creeping down my spine.
Andrew reached for me, but I pulled away sharply.
I fixed him with a steady gaze. "You need to bring back the wedding dress. I refuse to let her wear it."
He frowned, frustration etched across his face. "Stop being dramatic, Evelina. It's just a ceremony. We can always have ours later."
The way his lips curled up and the irritation in his eyes cut deep. I retorted, "Forget the wedding dress. She wants to have a wedding ceremony, and the groom has to be you? Is it her unreasonable demands because she's sick, or are you just going along with it like a leaf in the wind in our relationship?"
His face darkened at my words as if I had struck a nerve.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the door, throwing a parting shot over his shoulder.
"Dating you is a total drag. You never think about my feelings and always make a scene."
I thought to myself, "Is it really me who doesn't care about his feelings? Am I the one being unreasonable?"
The sound of the door locking snapped me back to reality.
I lifted my skirt and pounded on the door. "I don't agree! I've been looking forward to this wedding for so long. It's not just some ceremony..."
Through the door, I heard his impatient voice. "Can't you be less heartless? She's on her deathbed, is it really too much to let her have this one last thing?"
I thought, "She's dying? Because she's sick, I've put up with so much for years. Now I'm supposed to give up my wedding and my husband too? Did I cause her illness?"
I gripped the doorknob, forcing myself to calm down. "Andrew, think this through. Don't end up regretting it."
There was a pause outside, and then I heard his footsteps retreating, resolute but fading away.
I sank down to the floor, my extravagant skirt pooling around me, feeling emptiness settle in my chest.
She really did ruin my wedding.
Amelia had succeeded.
My phone buzzed urgently on the vanity.
It was a call from my parents.
Before I could answer, the call dropped.
The lounge was just a door away from the main hall, and I could clearly hear the gasps and murmurs of surprise outside.
Then, the sound of applause erupted as the emcee guided the guests.
Amelia's account sent another video notification.
The camera panned to the big screen, showcasing all the photoshoots Andrew and I had painstakingly arranged, now with Amelia's face digitally swapped in.
Those sunny days I had spent with makeup on, my feet aching from standing all day, and countless hours I had spent perfecting every pose? All of it had been turned into her in the wedding gown.
This infuriated me even more than Andrew's words.
My hands shook with rage, but I still clicked to watch the next video.
In it, Amelia walked toward Andrew, illuminated by the stage lights.
In the shadows behind her, I could see my parents' worried faces searching for me, only to be held back by two security guards.
At that moment, tears streamed down my face, landing on my phone screen where my parents' faces appeared.
"I have chosen the wrong person. Why do I have to drag my parents into this mess?"
I couldn't bring myself to watch the rest of the video.
In the midst of the chaos just a wall away, my mind began to clear.
After staring at myself in the mirror for what felt like ages, I finally slipped out of the ill-fitting wedding dress, wiped off my makeup, and put on my old clothes.
All I felt was relief.
At least I had seen the truth before it was too late.

At last, the long ceremony came to an end.
The door to the lounge swung open, and there stood Andrew, looking worn out.
He rubbed his temples, a sign that the weight of the day was pressing down on him, too.
"I'll make it up to you, Evelina. I'll go talk to Mom and Dad and explain everything..." he started, but I cut him off.
"No need. They're my parents, not yours. This isn't your concern."
He looked taken aback as if I had slapped him.
Andrew's face was etched with fatigue. "Don't say things out of anger. You know how hard this is for Amelia too. What's the harm in giving her this one thing?"
Even now, he still believed he was in the right, still defending Amelia.
I found myself at a loss for words.
"Fine, think what you want. I'll be packing my things and moving out today. I'll have someone sell the wedding house. If you don't want to sell it, just transfer my share into my account."
With that, I glanced over and spotted my parents standing not far away, their faces a mixture of concern and confusion.
I tossed a quick "That's it" over my shoulder as I hurried to join them.
A crowd of relatives surrounded my parents, and as I approached, I overheard one of them say, "So she got dumped, huh?"
My second aunt chimed in, "Girls like her are too strong-willed. Changing the bride on the wedding day? What a disgrace!"
I pushed my way through to my parents, feeling a pang of pain at the awkwardness etched on their faces.
I snapped back, "Are you my aunt or Andrew's? His switching bride shows his irresponsibility and lack of integrity. Him not consulting me is just plain disrespectful. My personality has nothing to do with it! If I had known this would happen, he wouldn't have been the groom today!"
My aunt huffed in indignation, muttering under her breath as she walked away.
My mom took my hand, worry evident in her eyes.
I tried to comfort her, saying, "It's fine. If it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen. I'm not exactly heartbroken over it."
After seeing them off in a cab, I went back to the wedding house alone to gather my things.
I had spoken my mind clearly, and my head was surprisingly clear.
But my emotions? They were another story.
Tears streamed down my face, seemingly unbidden.
This was the home Andrew and I had decorated together.
Everywhere I looked, I saw traces of him.
The little pot in the kitchen was something he bought after he learned I suffered from painful periods, claiming he'd make me nourishing soup every week.
The walk-in closet was his design, inspired by the Ferris wheel I'd liked in a short video.
When it was finished, I'd teased him about the over-the-top fairy lights, and he'd wrapped his arms around my waist, asking for a reward.
I had met Andrew in college, and we had spent a year apart due to work.
He had put in a lot of effort to win me over during that time.
When he confessed his feelings, he said he admired how I held my own in debate competitions.
Back then, I felt like I was shining in his eyes.
But now, he called me too bossy.
The very light that once sparkled in his gaze had become a source of pain for him.
I methodically packed up my belongings, slowly detaching myself from the memories.
When I finally finished, I realized that our seven years together fit into a box barely taller than my waist.
As I stood there, frustrated about how to get rid of this box, the door swung open.
My best friend, Ophelia Caldwell, burst in like a whirlwind.
The moment I saw her, the facade of strength I'd been maintaining crumbled.
My nose tingled with the impending tears.
Ophelia wrapped me in a tight embrace, squeezing me hard. "I should've been your maid of honor! You shouldn't have had to go through this alone."
She had despised Andrew for a long time, disapproving of his indecision and his lingering attachment to his ex.
She'd even gone so far as to skip my wedding, claiming I'd regret marrying him.
Ophelia had said, "As long as Amelia is alive, you're fine. But if she dies? How could you compete with a ghost?"
That had driven a wedge between us.
But now, looking at her, I felt grateful to have a friend like her back in my life.
With Ophelia around, things didn't seem quite so bleak.
She had specifically arranged a business trip to avoid my wedding, but as soon as she landed and heard what happened, she rushed over, fearing I'd be alone and crying.
Ophelia even took a vacation to stay with me, and that gesture touched me deeply.
As she busied herself with plans to set me up on dates, I heard a knock at the door.
It was Andrew.
I scoffed, thinking, "The nerve of him showing up. I should really slam the door in his face!"

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