After My Fiancé Abandoned Our Wedding Three Times, I Married His Rival

After five years with Julian Hale, I had just been abandoned at the altar for the third time. 40 minutes before the ceremony, Claire Morris claimed she was suffering sudden, crushing chest pain and couldn't breathe. The moment Julian got her call, he turned around without ever setting foot inside the chapel and drove her to the ER. When I called, Julian was still on his way to the hospital. "Claire's chest pain is severe. I'm taking her to the ER." He spoke quickly. In the background, Claire drew faint, shuddering breaths. "The ceremony starts in 40 minutes." Silence hung over the line for two seconds. "Then move it to next Friday. We don't have that many guests. It won't be hard to notify them again." He canceled our third wedding as casually as he might reschedule dinner. My fingers went numb around the phone. Ivy I had designed myself was embroidered along the hem of my ivory wedding gown—the same pattern we had carved into an old oak in Bellmont when we were 20. "Julian, this is the third time." "I know. I'll make it up to you." He lowered his voice, impatience already creeping into it. "Could you stop making a scene every time I'm dealing with something involving Claire? The doctors haven't ruled out a heart problem. She can't be left alone right now." "What about me?" "Be mature about this. Claire wants to witness our wedding too. If she can't be there today, what's the point of the ceremony?" Apparently, a wedding could go on without the bride's dignity, but not without Claire. On the other end of the line, Claire whimpered, "Julian... am I causing trouble for you...?" "Don't worry. I'm here." His voice softened at once. Then he said to me, "I'll make it up to you later. I have to go." He hung up. A new notification lit my phone. Claire had just posted an update. In the photo, she was lying in a hospital bed with flawless makeup. Draped around her shoulders was the formal jacket Julian was supposed to wear to our wedding. Their fingers were intertwined, and the ivy cuff link at his wrist was impossible to miss. The caption read: Whenever I'm at my lowest, you're always the first person I see when I wake up. He always chooses me first. I'm the happiest woman in the world. Two minutes later, the post disappeared. I saved a screenshot, but the phone slipped from my numb fingers and struck the marble floor. The screen cracked. I thought back to our second wedding. I had already reached the end of the aisle that day. Dressed in his tuxedo, Julian turned to me as if I were the only person in the room. Then his phone rang. Claire claimed someone had followed her all the way from the subway station. She was hiding in a convenience store outside the chapel, too frightened to come out. Julian strode down from the altar, crossed the aisle, and headed straight to the police station. He never looked back. I hadn't cried that day. By then, I had already begun practicing how not to. Eventually, I stopped remembering the flowers at each wedding. All I remembered was the sight of his back whenever he left. Before our first wedding, Claire had just returned to Westbrook when she claimed to be having a panic attack at the airport. Julian stayed with her all night. It wasn't until he saw dozens of missed calls the next morning that he remembered I was still waiting in the chapel in my wedding dress. Yet I kept believing him, again and again. When we were 20, a blizzard had buried Northcrest in snow. I casually mentioned leaving my sketchbook in my dorm. At 3 a.m., Julian appeared at my door with ice clinging to his lashes and my sketchbook cradled against his chest, wrapped in three layers of cashmere scarves. Back then, he'd told me, "Whatever you want, I'll make it happen." Over time, his promises multiplied, and so did my disappointments. When had he started letting me down every single time? I sank to the floor, my skirt blooming around me like a white flower. At last, the tears fell. I had held them back for so long that my shoulders shook with every sob. I covered my mouth with one hand. The makeup artist was right outside, and our guests were inside the chapel. I didn't want anyone to see me fall apart. Five years. We had been together for five years. And he had failed me again. How had we come to this? "Ellie?" Megan Carter opened the door and gasped when she saw me crouched on the floor. I wiped away my tears and stood. The bride in the mirror had red, swollen eyes, but her shoulders were squared. "Are we canceling?" I took off my engagement ring and set it on the vanity with a soft click. "No." "But the groom—" "He'll come." I scrolled to the A's in my contacts and stopped at Adrian Shaw. We had grown up on the same street. When I chose Julian at 20, Adrian had stepped back into the role of a friend. He had told me, "Call me anytime you need me." Two years ago, Julian had declined an invitation from Adrian on my behalf. Adrian and I hadn't spoken since. "Ellie?" His voice was deep and low. "You said you'd come whenever I needed you. Does that promise still stand?" "Always." I tightened my grip on the phone until my nails bit into my palm. "Come marry me." After half a second of silence, I heard papers rustling and a chair scraping back. He said, "Wait for me." My phone lit up again with a message from Julian. Julian: The tests haven't found anything so far. The doctor thinks it may have been a panic attack. Tell the wedding planner to book the venue for next Friday. By the way, Claire thinks your dress is too plain. Have the stylist choose another one. She doesn't want to look washed out as your bridesmaid. I stared at those lines and laughed. I turned off the screen and called through the door. "Megan, touch up my makeup." "Is the groom still coming?" "Yes." I looked at myself in the mirror and said it slowly, one word at a time. "But it'll be a different man waiting for me at the altar."