He Chose His Mistress, So I Chose Me

“Uncle… is that marriage you once wanted for me still possible?” My voice shook, strained from holding back tears, yet I forced the words out. “If it is, come for me by next week. I’ll say yes—I don’t care anymore.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then his voice came, confused and edged with alarm. “Althea? What… what are you saying? Isn’t today supposed to be your wedding with Dante? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it earlier—I was busy, but what’s going on? Why are you suddenly talking like this?”

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. “Because… he canceled our wedding. Again. And this time, it’s for Elise. I’m done waiting.”

“I… I can’t…” I faltered, then pressed on, voice steadying with cold resolve. “He’s never going to choose me, uncle. So come by next week. I’ll do whatever you want, just get me out of this… this humiliation.”

Before he could even reply, I ended the call. The words hung in the air like lead, heavy yet strangely freeing—as if I had finally cut the chains I’d been wearing for too long.

I lowered the phone slowly, hand trembling as I clutched the delicate lace of my gown. The garden around me glimmered with soft lights strung across branches, like stars scattered in the night sky. Roses and lilies, chosen carefully together, lined the aisle, their fragrance thick in the warm evening air. Tables overflowed with food, untouched, champagne glasses half-filled, waiting for a celebration that would never come.

But he wasn’t there.

My wedding had become nothing but a public display of pity.

Guests drifted over in small clusters, voices hushed, faces heavy with sympathy.

“I’m so sorry, Althea.”

“You don’t deserve this.”

“He’ll come back around. Don’t lose hope.”

Every word felt like salt poured onto an open wound. I stood there in the gown I had dreamt of since childhood, the white silk trailing across the grass, now damp with tears I fought to hide.

Dante didn’t show.

When I finally called him, pleading for some explanation, his voice was maddeningly calm, as though he had no idea of the storm he had left behind.

“Althea… I’m sorry,” he said, soft and measured. “Elise’s running a high fever. I couldn’t just leave her side. We can… do this later. Maybe next week. Or we can skip the whole ceremony and just register—it’s really the same thing.”

Elise.

The name twisted inside my chest, a bitter pang of resentment and heartbreak. I closed my eyes, gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white. Twenty years—twenty years of growing up side by side with Dante, the perfect childhood couple, everyone expecting us to marry at twenty-five. Fate, destiny—they had promised it all.

And it almost came true.

The wedding had been planned. A year ago, my gown was ready, my vows written, our lives mapped out. But Dante went on that cursed cruise. The accident left him broken, missing for months. And when he returned, he wasn’t alone.

Elise came with him—the woman who had nursed him back to life, who had saved him when he needed someone most. His family insisted she stay; the debt had to be repaid. Dante promised her happiness.

At first, I understood. I told myself it was only fair—without Elise, he might not have survived. I accepted it, thinking she’d leave once he was better. But she never left.

Dante’s focus shifted. Our future became secondary. Everything was about her, about Elise.

When the wedding was first postponed, I forgave him. Love required patience, I told myself. But ninety-nine times… ninety-nine excuses… ninety-nine moments where he put her before me.

I wasn’t his priority anymore. I wasn’t his choice.

The voice of the venue manager snapped me back. “Miss Althea… the food’s ready. The guests are waiting.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Donate it,” I said sharply. “Give it to anyone who needs it. I don’t care.”

I grabbed my bag, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I walked out, leaving everything behind.

The ride home was quiet, but my chest burned with memories, with broken promises. The house loomed ahead—the one Dante had promised me as ours, as our future. Now it was just a hollow reminder of what had never been.

Inside, I tore through drawers, gathering every gift, every keepsake from Dante and his family. Diamonds, gold, letters, tokens of a love that had rotted from within. My hands trembled, but I packed everything with deliberate resolve.

The door creaked.

Dante appeared, climbing the stairs, guilt and relief warring on his face. “Althea…” His voice softened, arms reaching as if one embrace could erase months of neglect. “I’m sorry—for standing you up, for leaving you alone. I regret it, truly. But Elise was sick, and I couldn’t leave her. You understand, right?”

I tore myself from his arms, gown rustling, eyes blazing. “That’s your excuse? Dante! This wasn’t a dinner you could postpone. This was our wedding. Our wedding!”

He tried to reach for me again, calm, almost pleading. “Althea, it’s just a ceremony. What matters is us, our love. We can register anytime. Tomorrow even. The guests will forgive. Families will understand… but Elise—she needed me—”

I grabbed the ring he had given me, once sparkling with promise, and flung it at him. The metal clattered against the marble, a thunderous echo of betrayal. Then I shoved the box of his gifts into his chest.

“Take it. Take everything back.”

He froze, stunned. “Althea, wait—what are—”

“There’s no wedding!” My voice cracked, raw and trembling with heartbreak. “Because I’m ending this engagement. I’m done.”