On the day of my wedding, Jacqueline Ortberg found out I was marrying Clyde McGlinchey.

Suddenly, she had a heart attack at the venue. And just like that, Clyde announced the wedding was canceled.

The groom left the bride behind and swept another woman into his arms as he walked away.

I became the subject of whispers and ridicule.

Guests pointed at me, their eyes full of blame, calling me heartless. A murderer, even.

And even Clyde looked at me with disgust.

“Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” he spat.

That was the moment I tossed my wedding dress in the trash… to let go of the seven years I loved him.

——

Right after he left, the guests I had personally invited rushed toward me.

Not to comfort me—but to judge.

“If you did something wrong, admit it, Mallory. Apologize to Jacqueline, or I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

“No wedding? Give me back the money I gave as a gift!”

“What a terrible sign!”

Their words were sharp, their tone harsh. But strangely, I didn’t feel sad. Not even a little.

I didn’t say a word. I just turned and walked away from the venue, barefoot, leaving my wedding dress behind in the trash.

The ceremony had been held halfway up a mountain. There weren’t many cars around, so I walked without my heels on the empty road.

My feet were aching when Clyde called. The moment I picked up, he started yelling.

“I worked so hard to keep this from Jacqueline! Why the hell did you let that damn wedding slip?!”

He was right about one thing—he did hide it well.

The wedding was remote and quiet.

No friends from his side, no family.

Only the folks I invited. And still, the place felt so empty.

His tone got sharper. “Jacqueline didn’t even want this wedding to happen. Now that she knows, it’s ruined. You brought this on yourself, Mallory!”

That earned a sarcastic laugh from me.

“What is she—your mom? your dad? You need her permission to get married now?”

He went silent for a moment.

Then tried to sound generous.

“Fine. Just apologize to her. If she forgives you, maybe we can still go through with the wedding.”

“No.”

He paused. “No? What no?” He scoffed. “What, are you saying you don’t want to get married anymore? Come on, who are you joking with?”

And honestly, I couldn’t blame him for thinking it was a joke.

I’d been with him for seven years, and I’d even proposed to him six times.

Marriage had become my obsession.

I opened my mouth to respond—but then I heard her voice through the phone.

“Clyde, did you say you wanted to marry her?”

And right away, he denied it. “No. Of course not. I would never marry her.”

The next thing I heard was the call disconnecting.

Just like that, my almost-husband cast me aside like dust in the wind.

Just when I thought the day wouldn't get any worse, a heavy rain started falling, soaking me from head to toe.

The cold stung—but it also woke me up.

My dream wedding with Clyde… It started melting away.

When I got home, I had a fever. My throat burned.

I took some meds and collapsed into bed.

Some time later, half-awake, I saw the man who left me at the altar.

His fingers stroked my cheek. His expression was gentle, so different from the way he screamed at me at the wedding venue.

When I sat up, he handed me a shopping bag.

“The wedding didn’t happen, but you should still have the ring,” he said.

I opened the bag.

The receipt was still inside—proof that he just bought it.

‘Great. Even before our wedding, he hadn’t planned a thing.’

Keeping my face blank, I picked up the ring and slipped it onto my finger.

I stared at him as I held my hand up in front of him.

I tilted it down, and just like that…

The ring slid right off.

With a click, that thing fell to the floor.

“This must be Jacqueline’s size, right?”

As soon as I said it, something flickered across Clyde’s face—like he knew he’d been caught.

Then he tried to cover it up.

“Maybe the designer messed up when I gave him your size. I asked him to redo it.”

“Don’t bother,” I replied casually.

There really wasn’t a point anymore.

My indifference probably frustrated him ‘cause his brows tightened.

“Mallory, how long are you planning to keep acting like this?

“I was trying to talk to you nicely, but look at your damn attitude.

“I’m telling you now—Jacqueline’s moving in with us. It’s for her health.”

So that was the whole reason for tonight’s conversation. The rest was just noise.

He just wanted to give Jacqueline a clean excuse to move into the house I was supposed to share with him as his wife.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded, turned around, and walked into the bedroom.

He took my silence as surrender.

Then I heard him mumble behind me, “Lucky for me I was smart enough not to put your name on the property deed back then. Who knows how bad this would’ve gotten.”

Later that night, he had just laid down beside me when his phone rang.

It was Jacqueline.

“Clyde, I’m all alone… in this hospital room. I’m really scared.”

The moment he heard her pitiful voice, he sat up, ready to leave.

At that exact moment, my phone rang too.

It was my mom.

“Mallory, sweetie, happy birthday!”

Her voice was clear and warm and loud enough for him to hear.

He froze, mid-step. “It’s your birthday today? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

But before I could answer, Jacqueline’s sobs echoed through the line again.

He hesitated—just for a second—then walked straight out the door.

“I’ll be back,” he said.

As I watched him disappear down the hallway, I felt… no anger or sadness or anything.

I just heard my own calm voice. “Thanks, Mom. I think I’m coming home...”

‘…Back to my real home.’

There was a long pause on the other end of the line until Mom said softly, “That’s great, sweetie. Whatever you decide to do, know that I support you, baby, okay?”

She didn’t ask why I suddenly wasn’t getting married.

She’s always known I don’t make decisions lightly. She knew something must’ve happened.

That night, Clyde never came home.

The next day, I booked a flight, went to the company, turned in my resignation, and started packing.

It was past midnight when I got back to the house.

I tried entering the door code, but it just kept flashing: [Incorrect.]

I had no choice—I called Clyde.

But he didn’t answer. Not once.

Panicked and fed up, I kicked the damn door a few times before it finally swung open.

He stood there, clearly annoyed.

“Do you know how long it took me to get Jacqueline to sleep? Now she’s awake again because of you!”

I didn’t respond. I just looked at him calmly. “You changed the code, didn’t you?”

When he explained, his voice softened, almost sheepish. “Jacqueline’s bad with complicated numbers. So yeah… I changed it. It’s just easier to remember now.”

Not even twenty-four hours since he said it, and he’d already moved her in.

That old code… It was the day he and I met.

“I helped pay the down payment on this place, too,” I reminded him.

He could’ve easily bought the whole house himself. But I was the one who said, “If we both chip in, it’ll feel like ours.”

Now, my words clearly annoyed him.

“So what, you’re gonna fight with me about money now?”

Hah. He always really had a way of steering the conversation somewhere else. Away from the truth.

’All I cared about is the house I helped pay for, so why the hell am I the one being locked out?!’

I wanted to shout at him, but I stayed quiet. Seeing that, he pulled out his phone again.

“What, this is about money? Fine, I’ll just transfer your damn share right now. Jeez, you paid a little but talk to me like you own the whole house.”

He opened iMessage and scrolled for a while, but couldn’t find my contact.

I couldn’t wait any longer, so I pointed to a profile picture on his screen to help him out.

It was me—but under my old number. No display name. No pinned chat. No special label.

He looked dazed for a second before tapping into our inbox.

The most recent messages were from a few days ago. Dozens of messages from me about the wedding. He hadn’t replied to a single one.

And then I saw it—his only pinned conversation.

It was with Jacqueline.

He probably saw me looking at it ‘cause his face instantly turned pale.

He even tried to explain, “Jacqueline has a heart condition. I need to be able to see her messages right away.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Just transfer the money.”

If I was leaving, I wasn’t walking away empty-handed.

This time, he didn’t argue. He just quietly sent it over.

When I walked inside, I found that the bedroom—our bedroom—was already taken.

Jacqueline was asleep in our bed.

All the wedding decorations were gone, tossed in the trash like something with no sentimental value at all.

“She thought they were tacky,” Clyde explained casually. “I didn’t think they were that great either, so we threw them out. Hey, she has a heart condition. Don’t take it so personally.”

‘That line again. Over and over.’

I didn’t shout or cry. I just went straight to the guest room and locked the door.

In the middle of the night, I heard his footsteps stopping in front of my locked door.

He stood there, not knocking.

Soon enough, I heard him go into Jacqueline’s room instead.

The next morning, he made breakfast.

We’d lived together for eight years. But this was the very first time I’d ever seen him cook.

I reached for a sandwich—but before I could even touch it, he rushed over and slapped my hand away.

“Jacqueline’s anxious about contamination. Don’t touch that. Yours is over there.”

My gaze followed his finger and saw my so-called breakfast.

Scraps. Rejects. Leftovers from what he messed up making hers.

I dropped my hand, said “I’m not hungry,” and went downstairs to eat by myself.

He didn’t follow. He was too busy feeding Jacqueline.

Literally. Like a child. Bite by bite.

After breakfast, I came back upstairs, and he stopped me in the hallway.

“Didn’t you always say you wanted to go out on a date with me? Jacqueline wants to go to the amusement park. Come with us.”

He said it like he was offering me a favor… Like tagging along would make everything okay again.

I was about to say no when he suddenly grabbed me, dragged me downstairs, and shoved me into the car.

As soon as we got to the park, Jacqueline lit up and said she wanted to try the drop tower ride.

“Mallory, let’s ride it together!”

“No,” I said right away.

She looked hurt. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay… I won’t force you.”

But her words lit a fire in Clyde.

“Goddamn it, Mallory, can you not kill the mood? She’s trying to be close to you, and this is how you act? You just have to reject every bit of kindness, don’t you?”

The next thing I knew, he grabbed my wrist hard, dragging me toward the ride.

“If you don’t go, then we’re not getting married!”

That was always his go-to threat. The one thing he knew would hit where it hurt.

But this time, I yanked my hand away with everything I had.

“Clyde, I’m afraid of heights! You know that!”

It was something I’d only ever shared with him—something I’d reminded him of more than once.

In the face of my desperate struggle, all he said was something dismissive…