Wedding Planner

CHAPTER TWO 

Wedding Planner 

Annie's POV 

I woke up with my head pounding like a drum. Every pulse felt sharper than the last. My eyes fluttered open, taking in the dim morning light. Matteo was gone—God knows where.

As I swung my leg off the bed, a sudden jab of pain shot across my head. I froze, letting it pass before stepping forward.

My phone lay on the mirror table. Matteo must have kept it there. I didn't remember. My fingers trembled as I picked it up, scrolling through notifications like a starving woman hunting for food. No calls. No texts. No excuses. Just emptiness. Just silence. My heart sank further.

From now on, Annie… forget men. Focus on your work. I muttered to myself, dragging my aching body into the bathroom for a shower. Work still awaited. Life didn't pause.

I rushed into the office, still adjusting my hair, my smile forced. I pretended last night hadn't shattered me.

“Here comes my best girlfriend at Pleasure Hills, Annie! You're late today, why? And why are your eyebags swollen? You look like someone who has been crying all night.”

Christy, my closest buddy at work, spotted me instantly.

She was right, but I couldn't just tell her I was dumped by my boyfriend last night. I blinked against the powder on my cheeks, and gave her a weak, shaky smile.

“Y… yeah, I'm okay.”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't push.

“Alright. Since you're here, information just got to us…”

Before she could finish, the Managing Director appeared, striding towards us.

“Good morning sir.” I greeted quickly.

“Annie,” he said, glancing at his watch. “You're late, huh?”

“I'm sorry sir. Won't happen again.” My voice was steadier than I felt.

He nodded. “Forget it. Bigger things—wedding bookings just came in this morning. Huge deal. They chose us. I'm putting it in your hand to prepare everything. You know how you do it—perfectly.”

He licked his lips, winked, and was gone.

I hated that look. One of those directors who thought everything under skirt was fair game. But I wasn't his toy.

Turning to Christy, I asked.

“Do you know who the celebrants are?”

She shook her head.

“No. They chose to remain anonymous.”

“Alright. Let's get to work.”

As the company's top staff, perfection was my language. I grabbed my clipboard, hurrying toward the main hall. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with polished wood. Tables stood bare, decorators waiting for my signal.

I exhaled, visualizing the layout—the stage at the far end, the aisle lined with white petals, chandeliers casting a soft, golden glow.

The hall felt too still, too expectant. My footsteps echoed like the place was holding its breath for a love story I didn't even know. A strange shiver ran through me, not fear—just something uneasy, like a warning I didn't understand.

“Florence, drapes up before the cake arrives. Florist —white roses only for the arch. No lillies.”

Decorators nodded and scattered. I allowed myself a small proud smile. Work was the only place I still had control.

I moved between the tables, fingers brushing the polished surfaces. At least here, everything obeyed me. The chairs stayed where I put them. Petals rested exactly where I wanted. Unlike people. Unlike promises. Unlike love.

But my mind betrayed me. 

Diaman's smile.

The way he said love… 

The way he used to hold me like I was home.

I imagined us walking down the aisle together. 

My chest tightened. 

It was like every memory had a knife. The little moment I had tried to lock away, slipped back in—the late night calls, the way his arms wrap around my waist. The softness in his voice when he said my name. My fingers tightened on the clipboard, knuckles turning white. Why wouldn't my heart listen to me?

No. 

Not now. 

Not here.

I shook my head, forcing my thoughts back to the checklist.

Just as I was signing the decorators’ sheet, my phone buzzed.

Frowning, I checked it. Not Christy, not a vendor. An unknown number.

“Get ready to feed your eyes well.”

My brow is knitted.

“What the hell…” I muttered.

No name. No phone. Timestamp: just a second ago. 

A chill crawled up my spine. The message Felt too personal, too targeted—like someone was watching me from just out of sight. My eyes swept the hall, but everyone seemed busy. Still, the feelings wouldn't leave.

The decorators finished. The hall smelled of new beginnings. I checked the ribbons, adjusted the petals, and nodded. Everything is ready.

“The couple is here.”

Someone shouted from the outside.

I barely looked up, still arranging the table cards. Then the hall erupted in cheers and music. 

I heard a voice—deep, confident, unforgettable.

I froze. 

That voice.

Slowly, I turned.

There he was. 

Diaman.

Sharp in a crisp white tuxedo.

Beside him, Katy—gown shimmering, veil floating, bump evident.

My throat went dry. 

My knees trembled. Yet I forced myself to stand. 

Around me, everyone cheered.

Everyone… except me.

My ear buzzed like I was submerged under water. Everything sounded far away—the laughter, the music, the clapping. All of it was blurred, muted. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. My heart slammed against my ribs, panic spiraling through me like a storm I couldn't control.

They approached the front. 

He lifted her veil.

Kissed her lips.

The cheering grew louder.

The sound hit me like a blow. Sharp. Cruel. Final. I wanted to scream but nothing came out. My chest burned. My throat closed up. For a moment, I wasn't sure I was breathing. How could he hold her like that? How could he look at her with a softness I had never seen?

Five years of love…

Five years of loyalty…

Thrown away.

And I had planned it.

I planned them.

Tears spilled freely.

I ran.

Out of the hall.

****

Work became hell. My mind replayed the wedding: his kiss, her smile, his ease.

He moved on like the years we shared never existed.

Everytime I blinked, I saw him lifting her veil again. It tortured me. Each memory cut deeper. My heart felt like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

He was right. No man in his standard would ever settle for someone like me. Men like him only wanted women for one thing.

Work was survival. 

I clung to it the way a drowning person clings to anything that floats. But I kept slipping. My mind wouldn't focus. Even simple tasks felt like climbing mountains with broken legs.

Family? A ghost. Dad? Unknown. Mum? Silent. Last seen after my university graduation. Only Matteo felt like home. Only he has not betrayed me. Sometimes I wished he wasn't a gay.

I mixed up bouquets.

Confused clients.

Christy looked at me with worried eyes.

The phone rang. 

HR.

“Annie, come to my office now.”

I entered nervously.

“Given recent observations, we understand you may be experiencing emotional distress. To support you, the company has approved a two-week paid vacation to Venice beach. Travel and accommodations are arranged. Your flight leaves in two days. Use this time to rest and come back stronger.”

My shoulders dropped, not out of weakness —relief. Someone has finally noticed the quiet war insid

e me. I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded, feeling the tension in my chest ease for the first time in days.

Finally, Annie…. 

The world is giving you time to breathe.