The Wedding Disaster and She Gave Me Freedom

2

After replying with that “Okay“, I casually opened my chat window with Silas.

Our last conversation was from three months ago, a short message he’d sent me: [Sera, I heard you’re getting married. I wish you happiness. If… this is what you truly want,]

Back then, looking at that message, I felt a little dismissive, even thinking Silas was being nosy.

Of course I was happy, marrying Preston was what I had dreamed of for so many years.

Thinking back now, his words, “If… this is what you truly want“, probably held so much unspoken meaning that I couldn’t grasp at the time.

I took a deep breath, my fingertips tapping out a line on the cold screen, then deleting it. After doing this several times, I finally sent the shortest possible sentence:

[Silas, are you there?]

The reply was almost instantaneous.

[I’m here. Always.]

Just three simple words, without even a dramatic exclamation point, yet they felt like a solid piece of driftwood slamming into my chest just as I was about to be swallowed by the icy sea.

My eyes instantly welled up with tears.

Not because I felt wronged, but because in a moment of being betrayed by the whole world, I suddenly realized there was still one person who

would always leave a light on for me.

I choked back a sob and dialed his number directly.

The phone barely rang once before he picked up. Silas’s familiar voice came through, laced with a barely perceptible tension and urgency,

“Sera? What’s wrong?”

There was some noise in the background, what sounded like the faint echo of an airport announcement.

“Silas…”

The moment I spoke, my voice couldn’t help but tremble. “What you said before… does it still count?”

There was a moment of silence on his end, and then Silas’s voice came back, incredibly steady and firm, carrying the force of someone burning their bridges, “It counts. Every word of it counts. Sera, tell me where you are. I’m on my way.”

“I’m still at the condo,” I said, sniffling. “But Silas, I don’t want to run. That would be letting them off too easy.”

Quickly and clearly, I recounted the story about the invitations and what I had overheard outside Preston’s office.

The sound of his breathing on the other end of the line deepened noticeably, I could even picture Silas right now, his lips pressed into a thin

line, his eyes cold as ice.

But he didn’t interrupt me, just listened quietly.

After I finished, he was silent for a few seconds before speaking, his voice carrying a reassuring calmness. “I understand. Sera, what do you want to do? I’m with you, whatever it is.”

“They want to play bait and switch, don’t they?” I said, looking at the plain band on my ring finger, my gaze hardening. “Then let’s play a bigger game. Silas, would you dare… to have a wedding with me?”

A barely andible gasp came from the other end of the line.

But it was inmediately followed by Silas’s unhesitating reply, delivered with an almost sacred solemnity.

“I’d be honored.”

As soon as I got off the phone with Silas, I sprang into action.

First, I contacted Linda, the head of the wedding planning team we had booked. Linda was a senior from my college, sharp and dependable.

I told her concisely that the wedding would proceed as planned, but with a different groom, and that the details needed to be kept absolutely confidential, especially from Preston’s side.

Linda gasped on the other end of the line, but her professionalism allowed her to cool down quickly. “Sera, are you sure? This is no small thing! The Calloway family…”

“I’ll handle the Calloways.”

My tone was calm but carried an undeniable force. “Linda, I only trust you. I’ll pay double for all expenses, including any cancellation fees. Also, I need you to do me a favor…”

I lowered my voice and explained my plan.

After listening, Linda was silent for a moment, then said decisively, “Done! Sera, I support you! An asshole like that deserves to be taught a lesson! Don’t you worry, leave everything to me. I guarantee I’ll give you a ‘perfect‘ wedding!”

After hanging up with Linda, I called my father.

My father’s voice was trembling with anger on the other end of the line after hearing my story. “That bastard! Is this how the Calloways treat my daughter?! Sera, you did the right thing! Dad supports you completely! I’ve watched Silas grow up, he’s a hundred times better than that arrogant Preston! I’m going to talk to Mr. Croft right now!”

With the two most critical pieces arranged, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

Next, it was time to act.

That evening, I arrived on time for my date with Preston to pick out a birthday gift for Felicity.

When I saw Preston, he had the same air of aloof elegance, as if that cruel conversation in his office earlier had never happened. He even, for once, opened the car door for me and asked in a casual tone, “Been waiting long?”

Before, this tiny gesture of consideration would have been enough to make me happy for half the day.

Now, I only found it ironic.

I shook my head and got into the passenger seat, putting on an impeccable, slightly weary, gentle smile. “No, I just got here too.”

On the way to the boutique, Preston seemed to be in a good mood, even making a few comments about the weather.

I played along, but inside, I was sneering. He probably thought that I had already seen that ridiculous invitation and, by being so “understanding” and not making a fuss, proved I was indeed the sensible, low–maintenance Seraphina, the perfect choice for Mrs. Calloway.

Once we were in the store, I “diligently” helped him choose the limited–edition handbag Felicity had been talking about for ages, even “thoughtfully” suggesting, “Felicity has fair skin, this cherry blossom pink would suit her better. It’s more unique than the classic model.”

Preston looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes that quickly morphed into a deeper emotion, something akin to “satisfaction“. He nodded. “Okay, you’ve always had good taste. Let’s go with this one.”

When it was time to pay, he pulled out his card as casually as if he were buying a cup of coffee.

Watching his entitled demeanor, I suddenly spoke up, my voice soft. “Preston, are our invitations printed? Did Trevor pick them up? I’d kind of

like to see them.”

Preston’s hand paused almost imperceptibly as he was swiping the card. He then recovered, handed the card to the salesclerk, and turned to look at me, his tone deliberately nonchalant. “Trevor can be a bit careless, he probably hasn’t gotten it sorted out yet. Why the sudden urge to

see them?”

Just as I thought. He was trying to hide it, or perhaps, he didn’t think it was a big deal worth mentioning at all.

I lowered my eyelashes to hide the coldness in my eyes, my voice remaining soft. “I’m just a little excited, you know. It is our wedding, after all.”

Hearing this, Preston reached out, as he usually did, to stroke my hair.

This time, however, I instinctively and almost imperceptibly turned my head to avoid his touch.

His hand froze in mid–air.

For a moment, the atmosphere grew tense.

I lifted my eyes, letting a timely hint of hurt and insecurity show on my face, and asked softly, “Preston… you’ll always be good to me, right?”

Preston’s deep eyes stared at me, a storm of emotions swirling within them before finally settling into a condescending sort of reassurance. He

pulled his hand back, stuck it in his trouser pocket, and said with his usual sense of control, his tone firm.

“Of course. Don’t overthink things.”

He thought I was feeling insecure about my position as the bride, that I was jealous of Felicity.

But he had no idea that the “good” I was asking about and the “good” he was promising were on completely different planes of existence.

And my perfectly timed “hurt” and “avoidance“, in his eyes, were just the normal, harmless little emotions of a bride–to–be, which only further confirmed my “deep love” for and “dependence” on him.

He probably thought this little fit of mine would vanish into thin air after he promised he’d “be good to me“.

How conceited.

After buying the bag and getting back in the car, Preston, as if suddenly remembering something, grabbed a fine gift bag from the back seat and handed it to me, saying casually, “Oh, right, I bought a little something for you too.”

I opened it. It was a Van Cleef & Arpels Alhambra bracelet. Not cheap, but compared to the limited–edition bag he’d just casually bought for Felicity, it felt much more like a perfunctory gesture.

Besides, the style was clearly more suited to Felicity’s taste.

Before, I would have been ecstatic, taking it as proof that he had me in his heart.

Now, I just found it laughable. This was probably his way of placating me, his “official bride“, or maybe just a little reward for being so “understanding“.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” I said with a smile, fastening the bracelet onto my wrist, my heart as cold as ice.

He looked at the bracelet on my wrist, seemingly satisfied with my “obedience“, and then mentioned, as if offhandedly. “In the days before the wedding. Felicity’s been in a bit of a bad mood, so I might need to spend more time with her. You’ll have to handle the wedding preparations on your own, it’ll be tough.”

Look at that, so brazenly self–righteous.

I fiddled with the cool clover charms on my wrist, looked up at him, and gave him a flawlessly gentle smile.

“Okay, you go ahead and be with her. I’ve got everything for the wedding covered.”