I Was Missing From My Own Wedding Photos

I'd been waiting 3 months for my wedding photo album to arrive. I flipped straight to the first page once it arrived. What stared back at me wasn't a photo of me and my fiancé, Nathan Lawson. Nathan was dressed in a custom-made black tailcoat tuxedo, his gaze lowered to the woman curled in his arms. She wore a flowing white gown, her arms wrapped affectionately around his neck as she smiled brightly. It was his childhood sweetheart, Sienna Hart. The smile vanished from my face. My fingertips went cold as I kept turning the pages, one crisp photograph after another. Every single one of the 200 professionally retouched photos featured Sienna in some way. She stood between Nathan and me. She held his hand. She ran along the beach beside him. And I'd been blurred into a vague, unrecognizable silhouette in the background. Worse still, more than half of those 200 photos didn't have me in them at all. They were just Nathan and Sienna. They looked like the picture-perfect couple about to walk down the aisle. Tucked into the very last page of the album was a handwritten note from the photo studio: Mr. Lawson looks at Ms. Hart with so much love in his eyes. Wishing you both a beautiful wedding and a lifetime of happiness together! I stared at the card for a long while, till my eyes burned from how dry they were, but I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly closed the album. Then I pulled out my phone and called the head of HR at Lawson Corp directly. "Mr. Walker, this is Nora Sullivan." My eyes remained fixed on the wedding album sitting on the coffee table. My voice was cold and flat, without the slightest hint of emotion. "That Rim Division overseas branch president position you mentioned last week? I'm ready to take it." ***** Mr. Walker at the other end of the line froze for a second. "Ms. Sullivan, but you're supposed to marry Mr. Lawson next month! This international assignment requires a minimum 3-year commitment. What about Mr. Lawson..." "The wedding's off." I cut him off, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Could you get the paperwork processed today? I want the transfer letter in hand by the day after tomorrow at the latest, so I can fly to Portania." After hanging up, I slowly slipped the engagement ring off my finger and set it beside the photo album on the living room coffee table. Then I turned on my heel, headed for the walk-in closet, hauled out my largest suitcase, and started methodically packing my belongings. If I couldn't even get a single proper wedding photo out of this marriage, I sure as hell didn't want the fiancé that came with it either. Nathan pushed open the front door at 11 p.m. Just like he always did, he walked over to the sofa and instinctively leaned down, ready to press a kiss to my forehead. I jerked my head to the side, dodging him completely. He froze mid-motion, his handsome brows twitching into a slight frown. A flicker of helpless, almost indulgent condescension crossed his dark eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "What's wrong? Still mad I didn't go with you to pick out wedding favors today?" He sank onto the sofa beside me, long fingers loosening his tie. His voice was soft, but it carried that entitled edge he always had when he thought he was in the right. "Sienna's depression flared up again. She was a total mess. She was so distraught at the hospital that she refused to take her medication. I just went over to calm her down. Nora, you've always been the reasonable one. Don't make a fuss over something this trivial, especially when she's sick." I didn't even look at him. I simply slid the photo album across the coffee table toward him. "The wedding photos came today. Take a look." Nathan rubbed his temples wearily, clearly annoyed that I was making him deal with whatever had upset me. Still, he forced himself to open the album. He flipped through two pages, then he stopped abruptly. Dead silence filled the room. I leaned back against the sofa, never taking my eyes off his face. "The photographer said you two look really in love." Nathan's expression shifted. He snapped the album shut, his brows drawing into a deep frown. "What's wrong with that photographer? I made it clear to the studio that the photos of Sienna and me were supposed to be printed separately in another album!" He didn't even bother explaining why Sienna appeared in every single shot. His first thought was simply that the photographer had messed up the layout. I stared at the man I'd loved for 7 years, and suddenly, he felt like a complete stranger. At the same time, a sharp wave of relief washed over me. Thank God I'd already called HR and started the transfer process. ***** It had all started 2 weeks earlier, when we'd flown to a private island for our wedding photoshoot. The night before we left, Sienna showed up at the airport with red, swollen eyes. She grabbed Nathan's sleeve and sobbed hard. "Nathan, I want to see the ocean, too. I've been so miserable lately. I don't think I can keep going much longer..." Nathan went soft-hearted. He turned to me, his tone carrying the finality of a decision already made. "Nora, Sienna just broke up with her boyfriend, and her depression's gotten really severe. Let her come with us and get some fresh air. Don't worry. I promise she won't get in the way of our plans." I agreed. But once we reached the photoshoot location, Sienna changed into a light, flowing white dress and darted around us the entire time, bubbly like a carefree little bird. "Nathan, I want photos like this, too. It's such a shame I don't even have a fiancé," she said while staring at our camera. Then tears started spilling down her cheeks again. Nathan sighed and turned to me. "Nora, she's really sick. She can't handle any stress right now. Let her tag along for a few shots. It's just humoring her. When we choose the final photos later, we'll only keep the ones of the two of us." I thought it was ridiculous at the time, but when I saw how trapped Nathan seemed, I caved. I'd been naive enough to think that as long as we didn't choose her photos in the end, it was just a harmless little sideshow. But the ending said otherwise. I stared straight at him and asked, "Nathan, your so-called 'only keep the shots of the two of us' turned our wedding photo album into an entire portrait collection of you and Sienna, didn't it?" Nathan drew a deep breath, reached out, and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. His thumb rubbed gently over my pulse in an attempt to calm me down. "Nora, don't be unreasonable. Sienna was in a surprisingly good mood that day, so the photographer took a few extra shots of her. I was stuck in a cross-border meeting when it was time to choose the photos, so Sienna offered to handle it. She was probably just curious and didn't know which ones to prioritize. She doesn't know any better, but do you? It's just an album. We can reshoot the photos or reprint the album. Problem solved, right?" His eyes flicked toward the two packed cardboard boxes sitting in the corner of the living room, and his brows drew together even tighter. "What's with the packed boxes? What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?" "I'm clearing out some garbage I don't need anymore." I wrenched my wrist free from his grip. "Just an album?" I stared at him. "Nathan, that's our wedding photo album." "I get it." He was clearly running out of patience. He stood, his tone dismissive and careless. "Tomorrow, I'll have my assistant reach out to the best photography team out there. We'll fly to another country and reshoot the whole thing. I'll have someone destroy this album tomorrow. Happy now?" He actually thought money and resources could fix anything. As if giving a little ground meant I should be falling over myself to accept it gratefully. "No need." I stood too, my gaze drifting to his bare left hand. His engagement ring was gone. He'd taken it off at some point. Catching my gaze, Nathan automatically touched his empty finger, his tone casual. "I was with Sienna for her sandplay therapy today, and the ring scratched her by accident. I took it off and left it in the car for now. Nora, I'm dead tired today. The company's got a mountain of work waiting for me. Can we please not fight over this meaningless nonsense?" He stepped closer and ruffled my hair, like coaxing a pet. "I'll book a table at your favorite restaurant tomorrow night and get you that strawberry soufflé you're obsessed with. Consider it my apology." With that, he turned and headed straight for the bathroom. There wasn't a flicker of guilt in him. Just casual, dismissive impatience, as if he couldn't wait to end the conversation.