The Wedding Planner's Regret

Ava Martinez let out a frustrated sigh, pulling her coat tighter against the early morning chill as she flagged down her third yellow cab in thirty minutes. Manhattan was its usual beast—brisk, relentless, busy and unapologetic. Her phone vibrated sharply against her palm just as a cab finally slowed beside her. She glanced at the screen. Annalise. “Of course”. Sliding into the back seat of the cab, she accepted the call. “Hi, Anna,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Let me guess—you’re calling to remind me I’m late again.” Annalise chuckled softly, her voice warm and cheery after six years of loyal service that had now blossomed into friendship. “Actually, I was going to say you’re human, Ava. You do remember we were at City Bank’s gala until 1 a.m., right? I’ve barely slept as well. But my groggy self had to dash out this morning in preparedness for our meeting” “Touché,” Ava admitted, stifling a yawn. “You’re right, as always. Maybe we’re both overdue for that spa weekend we keep promising ourselves. I mean, its been what? Six years already!!” “Tempting,” Annalise agreed. “But before massages and mud masks, there’s something you need to see. Check your inbox. It’s a referral from Mrs. Gonzalez—client wants a noon meeting today. And Ava, this one’s big. High-society wedding. Budget’s massive. Might finally be able to get the pay raise and bonus I rightly deserve” She laughed heartily in a high pitched and excited tone. Ava’s interest piqued instantly. “I like what I hear!!! Now you’re speaking my language. Looks like we’re about to earn six zeroes this year. We’ve been raking in big bucks this year and I’m so proud of us. I’ll be around in few minutes. See you soon.” The cab jolted forward as traffic cleared. Ava leaned back and allowed herself a brief smile. Mrs. Gonzalez had been more than just a client—she was a fairy godmother of sorts. After Ava planned the Gonzalez company’s 25th anniversary soirée two years ago, word-of-mouth referrals had tripled. A titan in the banking industry and co-owner of Gonzalez Delights—one of the country’s largest confectionery chains—Mrs. Gonzalez was a woman of immense influence and the Matriarch of the Great Gonzalez Family. Her husband had once run for mayor. He hadn’t won, but he’d made enough waves to matter and come in second in the race. A referral from her wasn’t just a job; it was a career moment, and this was the fifth referral that had come from her. Her first referral had gotten Ava a spot in the Manhattan Dailies. The Columnist had referred to her as a leading events planner in the city and one of the 50 entrepreneurs to look out for this season. And in return, she had gotten six events lined up on her calendar. One of which was the City Bank Gala which held the night before. By the time Ava reached the office, the chaos of the morning was behind her. She stepped out of the cab, heels clicking confidently against the sidewalk, and approached the polished glass door bearing the inscription in soft gold lettering: “Ava’s Events – Bespoke Weddings & Moments.” She paused, smiling at the brand she’d built from scratch. ***************************** Seven years ago, Ava Martinez had made the kind of bold decision that most people only dreamed about. She had walked away from a promising legal career—one lined with accolades, prestige, and a guaranteed six-figure salary in the nearest future. On paper, she had it all. But in reality, she was suffocating and drowning beneath the chaos. Every court filing, every corporate negotiation felt like a slow bleed from her soul. Law bored her senseless. It was a life that looked impressive from the outside but left her hollow and empty on the inside. So, with just $20,000 in savings and a modest loan from her ever-supportive mother, Ava took the leap into the unknown and launched her own wedding planning agency. It began with a cramped, windowless office above a laundromat in Manhattan. The walls were peeling, the plumbing made odd gurgling sounds, and the heating barely worked in winter. But Ava had vision. She had drive and ambition. And she had Annalise—her first hire, her assistant, her compass, and now, five years later, her closest female friend and right hand. Together, they hustled. Day and night, weekends, holidays—it didn’t matter. They made dreams happen, planned events for a token and offered free consultancy instances, and word spread. Slowly at first. Then all at once. Today, Ava’s agency was a name in the industry and a force to reckon with. Not just a name— the name. The go-to for Manhattan’s elite, for socialites who wanted extravagance and influencers who demanded perfection. From rooftop elopements to multi-million-dollar ballroom spectacles, Ava Martinez curated magic. Her story had even been featured in Modern Vows magazine, praised as the woman who redefined romance and reimagined luxury weddings. Still, she rarely stopped to soak in the accolades. There was always another deadline. Another bride on the verge of a breakdown. Another detail that needed to be flawless. Another Quinceañera, Wedding Anniversary, the list was quite endless. Behind the glittering façade of Ava’s success—her name in bridal magazines, her client list studded with Manhattan elites, the poised woman who never missed a detail—stood one unwavering constant: Gloria Martinez. Ava’s mother. Her champion. Her foundation. Gloria had been her rock from the very beginning, a quiet warrior who held their world together with nothing but grit and love. A retired public servant, Gloria wasn’t the kind to complain or crumble. She had weathered life’s tempests with the kind of strength that didn’t shout—it endured. After Ava’s father died in a freak construction accident when Ava was just two years old, Gloria had faced a future that was nothing but uncertain. Alone, she raised her daughter in a cramped one-bedroom apartment in the Bronx, where cracked linoleum floors and thin walls couldn’t contain the warmth of her love. She juggled two jobs—filing paperwork at a government office by day and cleaning offices by night. She took night classes, determined to finish her degree in social work even when her eyes stung from fatigue. Gloria wore her weariness like armor, never letting Ava see the cracks. Their lives weren’t glamorous, but Ava never went to bed hungry, never missed a school trip, and never doubted—not once—that she was loved. From Gloria, Ava learned how to stretch a dollar and hold her head high. She learned resilience that never wavered under pressure. She learned how to show up, even when your world feels like it’s falling apart. She learned grace—the kind that moves through heartbreak with dignity—and strength, not the loud, aggressive kind, but the quiet, persistent kind that keeps going when there’s no choice but forward. But all that steel came at a cost. At thirty-two, Ava Martinez had loved only once. Truly loved. And it nearly broke her. Nathan Hart. Even now, the name stirred something sharp in her chest—regret, maybe. Longing, definitely. He had been her first in every way that mattered. Her first real relationship, her first heartbreak, her first taste of what it meant to trust someone with everything and lose it all just as quickly. He wasn’t just a boy she once dated. He was the dream. Her college sweetheart. The one who had made her believe in forever. They had met in the most unexpected of places, the university library. She was a first-year law student with too many books and not enough sleep. He was a sophomore studying urban design and architecture. They were both reaching for the same copy of The Pelican Brief by John Grisham and ended up laughing over the awkward moment. Later that afternoon, they ran into each other again at the campus café, and when they placed identical drink orders—“one spoon of honey, two spoons of cream”—the waitress stared at them like they were speaking code. It became their thing. From there, it was late-night study sessions and shared playlists, weekends spent wandering Brooklyn flea markets, conversations that dipped from city planning to childhood fears without missing a beat. He saw her, really saw her—not just the student or the overachiever or the girl with the worn sneakers and color-coded planners—but the woman underneath. The one who wanted stability but dreamed of magic. The one who didn’t know if she was enough. And for a time, he made her feel like she was more than enough. They talked about everything: weddings, careers, building a life together. Ava had pictured it in vivid detail: the brownstone they’d renovate together, the two kids they’d raise with a golden retriever named Harold, Sunday mornings with jazz and pancakes, their names carved into the bark of some tree in Prospect Park. She believed in it. Believed in him. Until she discovered who he really was. Nathan Hart. Not Nathan-from-class. Not Nathan-who-loves-dogs-and-cityscapes. But Nathan Hart, heir to the Hart dynasty—the same Hart name etched into the marble of every third building in Manhattan. She should have known. The signs had been there. The tailored coats. The discreet black car that always dropped him off a block away. The way he never let her pay, even when she insisted. But love makes you blind. And Ava was blind—for the best three hundred and sixty-six days of her life . For one leap-year of her life, she had loved a man who lived in a world she didn’t even know existed. A world of legacy, of empire, of power plays whispered behind martinis and handshakes. He had never lied—not directly—but he had omitted the truth long enough to make her feel like a stranger in her own love story. When she finally learned the truth, it wasn’t the money that shattered her. She felt betrayed that he hadn’t trusted her with it. Hadn’t given her the chance to choose. She wasn’t ashamed of where she came from—the Bronx, the secondhand textbooks, the single mother who made miracles on minimum wage. But suddenly, in Nathan’s world, those things felt like scars instead of badges. Suddenly, she wasn’t enough—not for his family, not for his image, maybe not even for him.