The second chance flash marriage was better than I expected

Not all exes are bad

She stepped forward, and I stepped back, feeling confused, small, and embarrassed. Nothing made sense.

She smirked at me with contempt in her eyes. “The shitty engagement between you two is over, so never show that ugly face of yours in front of us again. Have some dignity and understand that you have no place here anymore!”

Sabrina, the straight blonde with blue eyes and an hourglass figure, kept yelling at me, and I couldn’t do anything. I regret it so much, but part of my healing process was forgiving myself for that. I didn’t deserve it; I was in a bad moment, and not everyone acts the same in such traumatic circumstances.

I thought I had lost my heart that day, with all my love for him in my hands and not knowing what to do. With a million illusions and a dream of a future together that we were no longer going to have. My plans, my wedding, the family I wanted to have. All lost.

And she didn’t care about trampling on my heart. She enjoyed it and was just taking advantage of my confused state.

I could feel my eyes burning terribly, but I angrily held back my tears.

It was the only thing I could do at that moment.

‘No, don’t you dare cry, Noelle!’ I repeated to myself over and over.

I wasn’t going to shed any tears in front of those idiots.

Never.

I would rather die than do that. I had already lost enough dignity that day.

I tried to escape, but she grabbed my arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid, try to destroy Dylan’s career, and I will make your life and your family’s life a living hell, Noelle.”

How could someone so shameless and horrible exist?

“I’m telling you that, Sabrina. Listen to me and listen to me well, because one day I will make sure that you, too, will wallow in pure regret. I promise.”

Sabrina laughed out loud, but I shook off her arm and continued my way.

My next memory is of arriving at the hotel bar where I stayed after the bachelorette party. I don’t know how, but I was already completely drunk by midday. I kept repeating the same questions over and over as I drowned myself in expensive alcohol.

‘How could you throw me away so easily? Wasn’t everything you told me true? What does she have that I don’t? What did I do wrong?’ Dylan was my whole world, the only support I had when I wanted to escape from my family. While I love my friends, it wasn’t the same because Dylan was going to become my real family. My husband.

My mom died when I was twelve, and within three months, my father had already brought his lover and his other daughter to the mansion. I never felt comfortable with them, even though they were kind to me. I felt like I was betraying my real mom, and I hated my father for it; I hadn’t even finished crying for her.

Then, they gave up on me and just pampered my stepsister. They showered her with love, and toys, and fulfilled her whims. After all, she was younger than me, more spontaneous, and adorable. I was always demure and shyer, which was strange considering that my dream was always to act. Or maybe not; maybe they were just looking for the real me in every role I played. Maybe I just wanted to forget who I was and my responsibilities by living someone else’s life, in a world and a destiny different from mine.

What hurts me the most is that I used to turn to Dylan’s interpretations when I was lost and didn’t believe I would be able to fulfill my dreams. I identified with him and his progress. We started together, we walked together, we got through the accident together, and we succeeded (in a way) together. How could Sabrina tell me that she got there first?

‘Why did it all turn out like this? How could anyone do this to me? Does my stepsister know? Does our family know? Since when did it start? Did they see my face as an i***t all this time and that’s why they were so opposed to my wedding? Can someone tell me what the hell is going to happen to me now? How am I going to cancel the wedding and tell everyone that my ex cheated on me?’ My internal monologue went on and on. My mind kept screaming and searching for an answer that wouldn’t come.

The waiter approached me after a while, perhaps worried about my terrible state. “Ma’am, you seem to have had quite a bit to drink. Would you like something to eat before we continue? The restaurant should be opening soon, and I can bring you what you want.”

I looked at his name hanging on his impeccable uniform. 'Charlie' looked friendly; he smiled carefully at me, and I’m sure that at some point, he lowered my alcohol dose because it no longer burned my throat as vehemently as it had at the beginning. I smiled wryly at his offer. “I’m fine. I need more alcohol in my system first.”

I laughed bitterly again as I thought about how ironic my life was. I had too many missed calls from Dylan on my cell phone; the poor guy kept texting me, and I didn’t even want to know why.

He had made it clear to me, or rather, he had shown me everything very clearly.

Thinking about how my life had turned out so far, I snorted in mockery at my current situation and drank the entire contents of my glass again in one long gulp.

I had become a content creator because, due to the accident, I no longer dared to act. I felt ugly and that at any moment, others could discover my ugliness. I felt paranoid, with low self-esteem, and that I was deceiving everyone with my supposed perfection. I was a hypocrite; how could I sell a perfect life if it was the complete opposite? And the advice to ‘show yourself as you are and be vulnerable to connect with your audience’ was bullshit. People are cruel, and anonymity gives them more power. If they see a way to destroy you and take you to misery with them, they will do it if you give them the chance.

Charlie couldn’t stand to see me in this miserable state any longer and brought some appetizers: a cheese board, sausages, peanuts, and I don’t know what else. I wasn’t hungry; I had to control my nausea from drinking so much and the burning in my stomach first.

After a while, I signaled the waiter to serve me another glass of the same drink, and with a sour face, he did as I asked. His kindness only caused more tears to fall from my eyes.

He discreetly handed me another box of tissues, and I started crying again.

I wanted to rip my heart out so it would stop hurting.

I stared at my new glass, which looked out of focus and doubled. I had a hard time grabbing it, so I just rested my head on the cold bar. The world was spinning, and I was tired.

At some point, I started having an incredibly interesting conversation with my drink. I pointed at it harshly and glared at it. The innocent glass in front of me finally stood still.

"Look at you now. You've worked so hard for so many years. Everyone told you to give up your childhood dreams and get a real job, that you had to change to live up to Dylan and take care of your future children. You believed in empty promises, and in the end, he left you for a stunning E-cup blonde..."

I looked with a little envy at the ladies who were accompanied and laughed as if they had no problems in their lives. I felt so devastated to have supposedly achieved what I dreamed of. All those normal things that people usually enjoy, I completely avoided living in a superficial world of appearances. I studied and worked non-stop to hide my lack of natural talent and the consequences of my accident. I never had a normal childhood and adolescence with a warm family... And I only took refuge in a ridiculous belief that I would manage to overcome my limits in the end and be like a movie protagonist. I tried so hard to please and impress my in-laws to get their support for the wedding. And for what? So much sacrifice was exchanged for another woman. Surely, she would be accepted by my strict ex-in-laws.

I tried to take another drink, but a deep voice interrupted me.

“Actually, he never loved you like you loved him. He was a lying dog. His decisions are not your fault. He was the one who never valued the great woman he had by his side, and you were the victim. Also, your real family and your political family never considered you or treated you well; they only abused your kindness. They didn't even take you seriously despite all the effort you made... and possibly they never will, because the problem isn't you, but them. You just must learn and keep that in mind from now on. But also, if you want, you can make everyone pay for leaving you. You can make them regret it and envy your happiness and all your future successes... Succeed more than them, and I promise you that will be the best revenge.”

I was surprised to hear the voice.

Did the glass answer me? I straightened up and looked around. A stranger was standing next to me, and embarrassment washed over me. Was I speaking out loud? Since when had he been listening to me?

I turned to face him, and he smiled mischievously at me.

“Would you like to make them regret what they did to you?” he suddenly said in a soft voice, as if comforting me and showing me my weakness at the same time. The man sitting next to me looked deliciously tempting in that black suit. Wide eyebrows, a strong jaw, and unforgettable blue eyes. I noticed the strands of dark hair that fell over his face, framing it and giving it a sensual air. I had to suppress my urge to touch his hair; it looked so silky... “I… umh…” My words escaped my lips, and I could only focus on the man’s tempting lips.

Was it because I was drunk? I had never been so attracted to another man just because of his looks, and I had always boasted about having immunity to being so in contact with handsome men for my job.

I was too drunk to recognize it, but instinctively everything led me to him. From his voice to his smell, everything seemed irresistible to me.

“Do you have enough money and power to achieve it? Or a plan? How are you going to succeed in that state?”