Shattered Dreams

Seven years I spent with Jason Shaw, but I never got a ring.

Rather, all I received was an invitation to another person's wedding.

That day, as a wedding planner, I was at the rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments. Looking up, I saw the man whom I waited every day to reply to my messages, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with another bride.

"Her boyfriend had something urgent come up, so I'm filling in for him," he said, standing straight, his tone light, a small smile on his lips.

But his eyes couldn't hide the hurt, like a child who lost his favorite toy.

As if that wasn't enough, he told me to hand over my wedding plan. He patted me on the shoulder, saying sincerely, "There's no rush for us. We've got plenty of time. I promise I'll give you an even better wedding. Just help me out this time. It's not like I'm not going to marry you."

He didn't know that I had revised the wedding plan hundreds of times, even counted and recounted the bouquets seven times. To me, it wasn't mere work—it was a dream I held for five long years.

I didn't argue anymore, just quietly stepped aside.

Later, I lay alone in a hospital bed, listening to the rain tapping against the window from outside. I counted each drop as the hours slipped through my fingers.

Perhaps those who worked so hard to create happiness for others had lost the right to their own happiness.

The last appointment before closing was a bride coming in for a run-through for her wedding rehearsal.

"The client's here again. Let's hope she finally makes up her mind this time," Lindsay said as she leaned against the wall, letting out a quiet sigh.

This particular bride had been a real handful. We had already revised her drafts five times, but she didn't like a single draft.

I grabbed my tablet and walked inside. The moment my eyes landed on the couple on stage, I froze.

"What... What's going on?"

Lindsay propped her face in her hands, her eyes lit up. "Honestly, they look great together. No wonder she's so picky. If my fiance looked like that, I would want every detail to be perfect, down to the color of the balloons."

Our voices caught the attention of the pair on stage.

"Kate…?"

The man's smile disappeared in an instant, his brows furrowed together. For a split second, panic flashed across his face.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you say you have to work late tonight? Why are you here now?" I snapped. Anger shot up inside me, but I forced myself to keep it together even if my chest felt so tight that it was hard to breathe.

The woman in the wedding dress raised her hand to cover her mouth, her eyes rimmed red and her voice trembling. "I'm sorry… I was being selfish. Forget it, I shouldn't have troubled you. Sorry for bothering you today."

Jason quickly grabbed her wrist and whispered something to calm her down, then turned and walked over to me.

"I was just worried you would get the wrong idea, so I didn't tell you beforehand. Her name's Wendy Webb, and she's an old college friend. Her fiance's overseas and can't make it. No one can help her with the rehearsal. Since she needed someone about the same height and I happened to fit, I agreed to help out at the last minute."

I stared at Jason with a cold face, then glanced at the woman.

I couldn't tell if I believed him.

The bride slowly approached, her designer gown made of satin and as delicate as snow petals. She looked cool and distant, a single tear hanging on her long lashes as she lowered her head.

"I really am sorry. I didn't know you two were together. He told me you're very open-minded and wouldn't mind… That's the only reason I asked him…"

She bowed deeply, her shoulders trembling.

I simply watched it in silence.

Ha.

Open-minded?

What girlfriend would be "open-minded" enough to let her boyfriend walk another woman through a wedding rehearsal while holding hands?

As I watched coldly, Jason stepped in to steady Wendy, who was about to bend over. He turned to me, his tone casual.

"Why are you staring at her like that? This isn't her fault. Her fiance couldn't even show up for something as important as the rehearsal and left her to stand here alone. What kind of guy does that?"

It was rare to see him lose his temper in public. What struck me even more was the sadness in his eyes and the regret he tried to hide.

As the business's top planner, I had to draw the line between work and personal life. Business was business. So, I stood back and watched them walk down the runway together over and over again, holding hands, turning, sharing glances, and smiling.

Only when the bride finally nodded did the rehearsal end.

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. I quietly sank into a chair, trying to catch my breath.

Before leaving, Jason looked back and said, "They came here because they trust you. You're the best. Make sure her wedding is both beautiful and unforgettable."

He left without a backward glance, never noticing how pale my face had gotten.

Jason and I have been together for seven years.

In those seven years, I went from a rookie who couldn't even arrange a bouquet to one of the most sought-after wedding planners in the business.

But our relationship?

It had been stuck in the mud for all seven years, never moving forward.

After the late shift, I dragged myself home and collapsed on the couch.

My phone rang. It was my mom.

"New Year's is coming up. Is Jason coming over this year? You two have been together for seven years. Your cousin's kid is almost in elementary school! Just tell me the truth… Is there something going on between you two?"

Here we go again. The same conversation never ended.

I closed my eyes, my throat tight, and forced out a few words. "We're fine. Really, everything's fine. If anything changes, you'll be the first to know."

Of course, I had thought about it. I had asked and brought it up. But his answers were always the same.

"You're overthinking things."

"Work's busy right now. Let's wait a bit longer."

"Marriage is all about timing, isn't it? Didn't I promise you? You can trust me."

Push a little more, and he would just get cold and impatient. We then dragged things out, year after year. Suddenly, seven years had flown by.

My mind had a lot to go through. The suffocating feeling from work earlier that day came back.

But my mom kept going on the phone. "You're turning twenty-nine soon. Of course your dad and I are worried! We just care about you…"

Before she could finish, I snapped, my voice shaking.

"Worried this, worried that! That's all you ever care! Do you think worrying will magically get me a marriage certificate? If you really want to know when he'll marry me, why don't you ask him? I work myself ragged every day, and I can barely catch my breath. Can you please just give me a moment of peace?"

I sat there, gasping for air, my chest throbbing.

On the other end, silence.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to soften my tone. "I'm just really tired today, Mom. I know what I'm doing. I'll call you back another time."

I hung up and grabbed a handful of calming pills from the table, swallowing them down.

I reminded myself to stay calm repeatedly. The doctor said stress would only make things worse.

After washing my face and getting ready for bed, I heard the front door open.

Jason walked in, still wearing the suit from earlier. "Still awake? Didn't I tell you that I'm having a lot of overtime recently, and you don't have to wait for me to come home?"

He leaned in to kiss me. As soon as he got close, I caught that same sweet, heavy scent I had smelled on that woman earlier at the office.

I turned my head away to avoid him.

He thought I was being shy and gave a quiet laugh, reaching for me like he always did.

As soon as he touched me, I flinched and pulled away with a gasp.

He froze, glancing at his hand. "What's wrong… It feels hard here?"

I pushed his hand away, cold sweat breaking out down my back. "Don't… I'm not feeling well tonight."

He hesitated, frowned, then clicked his tongue in annoyance and headed for the bathroom. Quietly, I picked up the shirt he had tossed on the couch and picked up the suit he had changed out of earlier, bringing them both close to my nose.

That same scent lingered on the two outfits. Faint, but unmistakable.

I sat there, unmoving. All the questions I was planning to ask tonight died on my lips.