At our wedding, Maurice Christy left me at the altar.

All I could do was force a smile, fending off the puzzled stares of family and friends.

When I returned to the empty bridal suite, I stumbled upon his childhood sweetheart's Instagram post. The two of them were holding hands, their intertwined fingers a blatant display of intimacy.

The caption read: [Who says childhood sweethearts can't win over new flames?]

Suddenly, the wedding didn't seem so important. Without much thought, I shredded my wedding dress and calmly liked her post.

Later, Maurice came back, kneeling in front of me, clutching the tattered remains of the gown, sobbing like a child.

The man standing beside me chuckled. "If you dare feel sorry for him, I'll cry for you too."

*****

No one could've predicted that I'd be the bride left alone on her wedding day.

After all, Maurice and I had been together for seven years. From high school sweethearts to a couple ready for marriage, our relationship had always been admired by others.

The wedding was about to begin, and even the wedding coordinator had already urged me more times than I could count. But Maurice answered one phone call and then simply disappeared, never returning.

Stumbling into the banquet hall, I grabbed a microphone from the wedding host and took to the stage.

The spotlight glared off my white gown, almost blinding me.

Feeling the weight of everyone's gaze, I plastered on a smile, ignoring the sharp pain in my chest.

"I'm sorry everyone, but the wedding is canceled. I apologize for wasting your time."

I spoke the news in a hoarse voice, and everyone was instantly in an uproar, speculating about the underlying reasons.

Their expressions ranged from suspicion to glee to sympathy.

Amidst their odd stares, I could only smile awkwardly, concealing the embarrassment of being abandoned again.

Once the guests were sent away, I returned alone to the empty house and accidentally scrolled through Maurice's sweetheart's Instagram.

They were still holding hands, wearing the rings we had intended to use for our wedding.

The caption read: [Who says childhood sweethearts can't win over new flames?]

My breath caught, and the emotions I'd repressed for so long surged forth.

It burst through my body, and the pain was unbearable.

But the more it hurt, the more clarity I gained.

The wedding dress I had just changed out of lay in front of me, and I stood up, grabbed a pair of scissors, and began to cut it into pieces, dismantling my dreams.

I liked her post with a calm demeanor, reflecting on what my seven-year relationship had truly meant.

I decided then and there that not getting married might just be the best choice.

I packed my things, determined to leave immediately, as the sun dipped below the horizon.

As I lugged my suitcase out, I unexpectedly ran into Maurice on his way home.

He glanced at me and the scattered remnants of my wedding dress, instinctively frowning.

"Stella, what's going on now?"

I looked at him incredulously. The one who had fled was him, yet he seemed to have forgotten in just a few hours.

"I'm not causing a scene. I just think being with you is pointless. If you don't want to marry me, then let's not."

I spoke calmly, burying all my grievances deep down, pretending it didn't matter at all.

Maurice, aware of his guilt, softened his tone.

"Stella, I know I messed up today, but you know Cara has depression. I couldn't just watch her end her life."

Yes, Maurice's childhood friend had been struggling, and hearing about his wedding had pushed her to the brink.

I forced a smile and locked eyes with him.

"If Cara threatens suicide at the next wedding, you'll leave me behind again, won't you?"

Maurice fell silent.

Because he would go. he could never let go of Cara Simpson.

The air grew thick with tension as I waited for his response, just like I'd waited for him to return to me.

But he didn't return to the wedding.

After what felt like an eternity, I managed a sarcastic smile.

"Maurice, let's break up. I set you free. You don't have to choose between me and Cara anymore."

My words were crystal clear, yet his expression hardened.

"Stella, take that back. I'll pretend I didn't hear it. You can throw a tantrum, but I'll arrange the wedding again. I promise there I won't leave you there a next time."

I felt suffocated; preparing for another wedding meant facing more humiliation.

His promises meant nothing to me.

It seemed Maurice had grown accustomed to being in control; his pride wouldn't let him release me.

For once, I found the patience to reason with him.

"Maurice, put away your pride. I'm not your dependent. Our love was meant to be free. You don't get to decide if I stay or go."

I had never been so cold with him before.

He looked at me in shock, but his expression soon shifted to an anger I couldn't understand.

He almost gritted his teeth and said, "You'll regret this, Stella!"

I scoffed, my steps firm as I silently affirmed my choice.

He didn't stop me as I walked out, but I heard the sound of glass shattering behind me.

I dragged my suitcase back to my studio, where I was temporarily staying.

After graduating from university, Maurice had initially hoped I would join his company.

However, with my parents' support, I insisted on starting my own fashion studio.

Thanks to my fashion design degree and a minor in business administration, I managed to run it smoothly.

Even while I was with Maurice, I never gave up on my career.

Now, I was glad I stuck to it. At least I had a place of my own to retreat to after our breakup.

Exhausted from the past few days, I slept deeply that night.

The next morning, with everything carefully planned, I took my design drafts to the company we collaborated with.

On the way there, I noticed the curious stares from people who passed me, as if they were wondering whether I had spent the night crying over yesterday's events or how long it would take for Maurice and me to reconcile this time.

Once in the meeting room, I confidently presented my designs and the concepts behind them.

The admiration in everyone's eyes restored my confidence.

Unfortunately, my design was rejected, and they chose someone else.

Just as I wondered who could be so talented, I caught a glimpse of Cara in my peripheral vision.

Of course, it was her

Noticing me looking, Cara walked over, slipping her arm through mine with an overly familiar smile.

"Stella, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I didn't expect things to get so out of hand.

"You know, I only feel at ease when Maurice is with me when I'm not feeling well."

In the past, I would have lost my temper, but now I just smiled indifferently.

"No worries. I understand."

For a moment, the smile on Cara's face froze, but she quickly regained her composure and waved to someone behind me.

"Maurice! I think Stella is upset because of me. Why don't we take her out for dinner to make up for it?"

She acted so innocent, already positioning me as an outsider, which made her behavior seem almost childish and ridiculous.

Maurice's cool eyes flickered with a trace of hope.

"Stella, I might have said some harsh things yesterday. A new French restaurant just opened on West Street. How about we try it together?"

I knew Maurice was trying to make peace.

Early in our relationship, we hadn't argued for years, until Cara returned to the country a year ago.

Since then, she had been the source of our arguments.

After each fight, Maurice would act as if nothing had happened, and I would foolishly forgive him, allowing him to take me for granted.

But not this time. I wouldn't go back.

"Maurice, I thought I made myself clear last night. We've broken up. There's no need for dinner."

Cara's eyes widened in shock, though the glimmer of triumph was hard for her to hide.

"Stella, are you serious?"

"Yes. We've broken up. It's over."

I repeated it, as if reminding myself as much as telling them.

Maurice's expression turned cold, his gaze sharp.

"Stella, don't act like a child."

I was caught off guard by his accusation, unsure what I had said that made him think I was being unreasonable.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice interrupted from behind me.

"My apologies, Mr. Christy, but Stella already has plans."