Today Is My Wedding Day

Evelyn‘s POV

My heart shatters into a million pieces.

I grip the doorframe to stay standing, eyes locked on him. Begging the world to say it’s not real.

I freeze at the doorway, my breath catching in my throat and my fingers turning ice-cold as I watch Sebastian stand at the altar, exchanging soft vows with another woman. She’s beautiful, in a floor-length white gown with a veil, her smile radiant as she looks up at him—a look that I once thought was reserved only for me. My knees buckle beneath me, and I press my palm tightly to my mouth to stifle a sob that threatens to escape, begging my brain to tell me it’s not real, that it’s all a terrible, cruel dream.

My knees buckle. I press a hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.

This can’t be him. The man I love. The man who promised to take care of me forever.

Guests’ voices cut through my heart like glass.

“Blair’s his true love—so glad they made it official!”

“Evelyn’s just a pity case. She drugged Sebastian to get pregnant, everyone knows that.”

My jaw tightens until it aches, the memory of that night burning bright in my mind—Sloane handed me that wine, smiling sweetly, telling me it would help me relax. I now know she did it all for the Hawthorne family’s property, to get me pregnant and trap Sebastian, to secure her own share of the fortune. No one believed me when I tried to explain, but the one who slanders you always knows the truth best, and Sloane’s lies were just a cover for her own greed.

No one believed me then. But the one who slanders you knows the truth best.

I want to scream: He kissed me first. He held me. He said he’d take responsibility because he cared.

Sebastian’s fingers tighten around his champagne glass. Empty, but he keeps bringing it to his lips.

His other hand is in his pocket. I notice the shape of it moving — not restless, exactly. Touching something. Like he’s checking it’s still there. He pulls it out. A phone. The screen lights his face for a second, and his expression falters — just a crack. The smile doesn’t quite hold.

His thumb hovers over the screen. Doesn’t tap. Doesn’t type. Just hovers, like he’s waiting for something that hasn’t come. Then he locks it. Slides it back. Picks up the champagne glass again, rubs the rim with his thumb — a small, restless gesture I’ve never seen him make.

His eyes drift toward the entrance. The same entrance I walked through minutes ago. He holds there a moment too long.

Then Blair touches his arm. He turns back to her. Smiles. It’s the same smile he gave me yesterday when he tucked Sophie into bed after three hours in the hospital waiting room — the same smile he gave me last week when she had a fever and he refused to leave her side, refused to sleep, refused to eat, until the doctor said she was out of danger.

That smile I recognize. This one — at his own wedding — I don’t.

“Don’t bring that up again,” his voice cuts through, sharp and final. “Today is my wedding day.”

I peek around the corner. He approaches the group, arm sliding possessively around Blair’s waist.

She melts into him, gazing up adoringly.

My chest aches so badly I can’t breathe. That’s my spot. The arm that’s wrapped around me at every family gathering.

“Nothing should spoil our perfect day,” Blair murmurs, honey-sweet.

Sebastian softens, thumb tracing circles on her hip.

That intimacy makes my stomach clench. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Why can’t he look at me like that anymore?

“Evelyn will never find out,” a guest whispers. “She’s clueless about your real relationship.”

They’re right. I’ve been oblivious for 5 years.

How many of his “business trips” were actually romantic getaways with her? How many late nights at the “office” were spent in Blair’s arms, instead of coming home to me and Sophie? How many times did I kiss him goodbye, clinging to the hope that he loved me, never knowing he was rushing off to the woman he truly cared about? I replay every moment of our eight years together in my mind, searching for signs, for tiny clues I missed, hating myself for being so blind, so naive to his lies.

I replay every moment, hating myself for being so blind.

“Will she show up here?” someone asks nervously.

Sebastian‘s jaw tightens. “Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. Evelyn and I… we don’t have an emotional marriage. It’s purely practical.”

Purely practical.

Five years of my love, my everything—dismissed as a business arrangement.

I sink to the floor, tears streaming. I loved him with all my heart, and I was just a duty.

Then my phone rings.

The shrill sound cuts through the party. Guests turn. Sebastian‘s head snaps up, eyes scanning.

It’s him. Sebastian‘s name is on the caller ID.

I whisper, “Hello?” stepping deeper into the shadows.

“Evelyn,” he says, crisp and businesslike. “I saw your missed calls. What did you need?”

I watch him—arm around Blair, phone to his ear. Casual, cold.

“What are you doing right now?” I ask, stupidly hoping he’ll lie.

“Busy with work,” he says without hesitation. “Two more merger meetings before I come home.”

I stare at the wedding decorations, Blair‘s smile, his hand on her waist.

The lie is so blatant, it makes me dizzy.

“Really?” I say, voice thick with tears.