On the day of my wedding, I stood in my dress, anxiously waiting for Desmond Hawke to come pick me up.

But just as the ceremony was about to begin, my phone rang.

It was him.

“Rowena gets car sick, Elara," he said casually, "She can’t ride in anyone else’s car. She can only sit in my Bentley.”

I frowned, the frustration creeping in.

Then, Desmond added, "I’ll drive to pick her up. It’s not convenient for me to pick you up, so why don’t you take a public bike to the hotel? You ride one to work every day anyway."

I was stunned.

Right on the day of our wedding, the groom wasn’t coming to get his bride. He was going out of his way to pick up his childhood sweetheart, Rowena Ferguson, instead.

It felt like a slap in the face.

I couldn’t even process it properly.

In my fury, I opened a group chat titled 'Cool Breeze Squad' and posted a selfie of me riding a public bike, the wedding dress flaring out around me like a joke.

Then, an hour later, the heirs of several prominent families began to show up at the wedding venue, each of them riding bikes as if it were a casual entrance.

Then, my childhood friend, the heir to Grandview City's wealth, dismounted his bike with a serious expression and knelt before me.

He swore, “If you agree to marry me, I’ll buy Hawke Enterprises and give it to you as your wedding dowry.”

——

My eyes flicked to the clock.

There was only an hour left until the wedding was supposed to start.

If Desmond didn’t show up soon, I was going to be late.

Just then, my phone rang again.

It was Desmond.

I answered quickly, my voice tight with frustration. “Honey, where are you? Why aren’t you here to pick me up yet?”

Desmond’s voice came through the line, apologetic.

“Elara, I may not be able to pick you up anymore. Rowena’s car sick, and she throws up in any car that’s not mine. I just picked her up, and she is not on the way to get you. How about you just take a public bike to the venue? Anyway, you ride one to work every day.”

I could feel my blood boiling.

"Desmond, are you serious? Today is my wedding to you, not with Rowena! You’re not picking me up, your bride, to go get your ex! Who exactly are you marrying? Rowena or me?"

I exhale deeply, expressing my anger. "Besides, I’m still in my wedding dress! You want me to ride a public bike in a wedding dress?”

I heard Desmond sigh heavily on the other end.

“It’s just transportation. I know your family’s not rich, and you’ve never ridden in a luxury car. You want to sit in my Bentley and show off to your girlfriends that you’ve married a rich man, right? Honestly, Elara, I’ve been meaning to tell you, but you’re starting to look a little materialistic.”

Before I could respond, a soft, hesitant voice came from Desmond's side.

“Desmond, is Elara upset? If she is, just drop me off on the side of the road. I’ll find someone else to pick me up. I know I get nauseous in cars, but please, don’t let her misunderstand. It’s a happy day—don’t let her be upset because of me. Let her have her way. It’s all my fault. I knew she tended to misunderstand me, and I still took your car.”

His voice was quiet, almost defeated. “Elara’s just materialistic, wanting to sit in my Bentley, wanting to show off to her colleagues. It’s no big deal.”

“I’m not going to spoil her bad habits,” Desmond added. “She needs a monthly pass just to ride a public bike. She’s always scrambling for coupons. I’m marrying her to get her out of that poor, embarrassing circle. She shouldn’t act spoiled, thinking just because I agreed to marry her, she can do whatever she wants.”

After comforting Rowena, Desmond’s tone turned cold. “Elara, we’re getting married today, and I don’t want to argue. If you want to marry me, then ride the bike yourself. If you keep acting like this, you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

With that, he hung up.

I looked at my phone, staring at the wedding group chat.

It was filled with Desmond and Rowena’s friends, who were clearly taking joy in what had just happened.

Someone had posted a video showing the procession of cars on Central Street, with Desmond’s Bentley leading the way.

“Desmond can’t even bear to let Rowena suffer even a little. He went out of his way to pick her up for an hour.”

“Elara’s just being dramatic! She’s already transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan by marrying Desmond. What more does she want?”

“I’ve said it before—she’s not worthy of Desmond. If Rowena hadn’t gone abroad, she wouldn’t even have had a chance. Someone who isn’t loved is just the third wheel. Everyone knows Rowena is the only one in Desmond’s heart.”

I couldn’t stop the anger bubbling up inside me. Their words stung more than I wanted to admit. Still, I managed to shake my head and hold back a laugh.

'Unbelievable,' I thought, 'how easily they turn on me.'

Rowena quickly sent a voice message:

"Don’t take it the wrong way, Elara is in the group."

She even made sure to tag me:

"Elara, don’t listen to them," Rowena said. "They only think I’m more suitable for Desmond. No, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is, once they get to know you, they’ll realize you and Desmond are a perfect pair."

Then, Rowena posted a selfie with Desmond in the group.

She was leaning against his shoulder, her eyes slightly red, her lips swollen and bruised.

She captioned:

[Let me be selfish just this one last time. After tomorrow, you’ll belong to someone else.]

Anyone could tell those lips had recently been kissed.

The sense of intimacy was unmistakable.

I couldn’t help but laugh, though it was bitter and full of frustration. 'This is the pure, innocent childhood friend?'

No wonder Desmond went out of his way to pick her up.

I immediately sent a voice message: "Such a pure friendship. Desmond, is your friendship sealed with a kiss? Really, it’s an eye-opener."

The group exploded with comments immediately.

Rowena quickly followed up with another voice message:

"Elara, please don’t misunderstand the photo I just sent. I just bit my lip. Even though Desmond is my first love, and even though my leaving to study abroad hurt him and led him to be with you, he promised to marry you and take responsibility. I still wish you both the best," she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

At once, the group started jeering:

[People from lower backgrounds just don’t get it, huh? Can’t take a joke, so petty!]

[How did Desmond end up with someone like her? He should never bring her out with us again.]

[Exactly! Every time she’s around, Rowena ends up feeling so wronged. What’s Elara’s business with it? Doesn’t she realize she’s the real third wheel?]

My blood boiled.

From day one, Desmond’s friends had always looked down on me.

They would put me down to feel superior.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I typed out: [Shut up, all of you! You all love following Rowena. Now that Desmond is married and she’s heartbroken, this is your chance to win her favor!]

Desmond immediately started a voice call in the group: "Elara, apologize to my friends right now. You’re way out of the line!"

I sneered. "So, you’re here now, huh? When they insulted me, you didn’t say a thing. All of a sudden, you want me to apologize? You were acting deaf and mute earlier, weren't you? Now you're just coming out of nowhere to demand an apology?"

Desmond snapped, anger in his voice. “Do you even get how much you just hurt Rowena? She’s been pampered and protected her whole life. She doesn’t know what it’s like to scrape by in the slums like you did. You and Rowena are from two completely different worlds."

I felt a deep sting. Desmond wasn’t just defending Rowena; he was attacking me.

"Do you have any idea how much your words hurt her?"

Then I heard Rowena’s soft sobs through the phone.

“I just sat in your car, that’s all. Why would Elara twist it into something ugly about me and my friends? They are good people. Why would she say such cruel things? Just because I rode with you? Besides, she could’ve just taken a public bike to the hotel, no traffic, no problem. Is she really so vain that she has to treat me like this?”

Desmond’s tone shifted instantly to gentle and coaxing, as if he hadn’t been tearing into me seconds ago.

“Don’t cry. If Elara really wants this wedding, she needs to apologize to you and to my friends. Otherwise, she doesn’t need to show up at all.”

His voice, still cold but with a hint of finality, spoke through the phone. "Elara, I’m giving you one last chance. Did you hear me? Apologize to Rowena and my friends before the wedding, or this marriage won’t happen."

I laughed bitterly, the anger in my chest rising. "Finem then! Wait for me at the wedding venue. I’ll come and apologize.”

Rowena’s voice came through, sweet and almost coaxing, as she said, "Desmond, you know she really loves you. When you're upset, she gets scared. It seems like she really wants to marry you."

I hung up the phone, my eyes lingering on the group chat where Desmond’s friends were posting their usual cruel remarks.

[Wow, looks like the real puppet is Elara. She’ll do anything for money, even sell her dignity. Wasn’t she acting so arrogant earlier? Now that Desmond says he won’t marry her, she’s losing it. Marrying into the Hawke family as a daughter-in-law? Her family must be over the moon.]

I closed the wedding group chat, the sting of their words still sharp.

Shaking it off, I opened another group chat titled "Cool Breeze Squad."

I posted a photo of myself in my wedding dress, riding a public bike.

Along with the photo, I dropped the hotel address in the group chat and typed:

[This is my wedding. You’re all invited. Get here by public bike.]

The group instantly lit up:

[Whoa, Elara! You’ve been MIA for two years and finally pop up! How’s life been?]

[Elara, you’re telling us east while we’re heading west. But wait, you’re seriously making us ride public bikes? Is that a new flex?]

[Quit whining. Elara said public bikes, so we ride public bikes!]

[Got it. I’m on my way and I’ll be on time.]

Only one person didn’t join in the laughter.

It was Cyrus Vance, my childhood friend.

He messaged me privately.

[Who are you marrying? Desmond Hawke? Does he even deserve you?]

I could tell he had been keeping tabs on me over the years.

I grinned and replied:

[If Mr. Cyrus Vance is willing to ride a bike to propose, then I’ll marry you.]

I turned off my phone, a sense of empowerment flooding me.

Without a second thought, I grabbed the long skirt of my wedding dress and tore it in half, turning it into a short one. After all, this dress wasn’t my choice. It was Desmond’s, or rather, Rowena’s.

When the dress arrived, I couldn’t hide my disappointment. It was nothing like the one I’d picked out.

“Why isn’t it the one I chose?” I asked, my tone edged with frustration.

Desmond shrugged, his voice dismissive. "Rowena specially chose this one for you. She said it’s the best fit. You should trust her judgment. She’s a fashion designer. You can’t possibly know better than a professional, right? This is haute couture, Elara. You’ve never worn anything like this before so that you wouldn’t understand. Just trust Rowena."

Rowena jumped in, her tone sweet but patronizing. "Elara, you might not know what people in our circle like, but it’s different from your usual crowd. You’ll have to adapt. This one suits you best."

'Suited me best?' I thought, feeling the bitter sting.

She’d chosen this dress to highlight all my flaws.

And it arrived just the day before the wedding—no chance to change it. It was as if she wanted me to look foolish.

When Desmond and I first met at Winslow Group, he’d assumed I was just a low-level employee.

That day, the company held its annual family day, and employees were invited to bring their families.

There was no need for business attire, so I showed up riding a public bike, carrying a big bag of snacks for my colleagues’ kids.

As I entered through the front gate, my public bike scraped against Desmond’s car. He noticed me right away, and before I knew it, he was pursuing me.

He insisted that no matter my status or profession, he only liked me.

Back then, my father always doubted my ability to handle hardship.

To prove him wrong, I made a bet with him: if I could stay at Winslow Group, work my way up from the bottom, and stick it out for two years without quitting or getting fired, I would pass his test and inherit the Winslow Group.

But those two years had to be mine alone.

No contact with old friends, no asking for help. Just me, on my own.

I rented a small apartment with my salary, rode a public bike to work every day, and threw myself into the work at the ground level.

During those two years, I transferred between departments, gained insight into the company's inner workings, and began to earn recognition from my superiors.

I even managed to get promoted twice.

The work was challenging, but I had come this far. And now, I was about to marry Desmond. Although, honestly, things had changed a lot since those early days.