My Fiancee Is Marrying My Brother

Mathilda's hands paused on the hem of her dress.

I pressed play, and her voice echoed from the speakers on both sides of the courtyard.

"The keys are with Jack for now, but don't ask for them right after the wedding. Let your parents talk to him. He'll definitely give them to you."

Someone put down their wine glass and glanced toward the head table.

The next voice message followed immediately.

"I know he treats me well, but the man I want to marry is you. Ivan, please don't make me wait any longer."

Ivan had forwarded this to me himself last night.

Afraid that I wouldn't believe it, he also sent me the voice message he received two days ago. He then sent me a final message:

"Jack, she already made her choice. Please don't embarrass her tomorrow."

I couldn't sleep all night. Ivan had even prepared the toast speech for me.

A piece of paper lay right next to the microphone, ending with the words "happily ever after" written in his handwriting.

Mathilda quickly walked onto the stage and reached out to take my phone.

"Why are you playing this in front of all these people? It's not like that."

She gripped my cuff, just like she used to whenever we sought to make up after an argument.

"Let's just finish the ceremony first. We'll talk this through afterwards."

"Finish what ceremony?"

Her fingers loosened slightly.

Last month, we had chosen the wedding date together. I picked out the wedding candies, and she tried on wedding dresses.

Three days ago, when my father handed me the keys, he was still urging me to get the new bridal bed ready.

Last night, when I returned to the old family manor to drop off my luggage, I noticed the invitations with the changed names at the entryway.

Every single day prior to that, they could have told me.

Yet they saved the hardest thing to say for the very last moment, hoping to use the presence of two hundred guests to pressure me into silent agreement.

My father stood up and motioned for the emcee to turn off the speakers.

"This is a joyous occasion. Whatever differences there are between brothers, you can talk them out at home."

"Isn't this place home?"

I looked at him.

"When were the invitations changed?"

My father didn't answer. Tiffany, my stepmother, walked over.

She was the woman standing beside my father in the photograph I found.

My biological mother passed away three years ago, and after my father remarried, I too used to call her Mom, following my brother's lead.

She gripped my wrist, showing me the same polite smile she used to greet the guests.

"Jack, our relatives are watching. Don't embarrass Mathilda."

"Then what about me?"

"Matters of the heart cannot be forced."

"Then why are you forcing me to offer my blessings?"

Tiffany opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She glanced back at my father.

Ivan finally walked onto the stage, wearing the boutonniere originally meant for me pinned to his chest.

"Brother, I know this is unfair to you, but Mathilda truly loves me. You shouldn't make her spend the rest of her life with you just because you'll feel sad otherwise."

"When did it start?"

He lowered his head.

"You've seen the photo."

"I want to hear it from you."

"Two years ago."

A wave of hushed whispers rippled through the audience.

Mathilda's mother stood up, looked at her daughter, and then turned to my father.

"Didn't you tell me they already broke up half a year ago?"

I took the ring box I had only retrieved yesterday out of my pocket.

The names of Mathilda and myself were engraved inside the band. She was urging me to go pick it up just last week.

"Would a couple who broke up half a year ago pick this out together?"

Mathilda reached out to cover it, but she was too late.

Her mother sat back down, looking thoroughly unhappy.

Mathilda stepped down from the stage, intending to offer her mother an explanation.

"Mom, let me explain."

"Answer this first: on the day of your engagement party, when I asked you what kind of food Jack liked, how could you pick out food for him with a smile?"

Mathilda stopped in her tracks.

"We hadn't decided what to do at the wedding yet back then."

"Whether you had decided or not doesn't change the fact that you led him to believe he would be marrying you today."

I looked at the dish on the table, suddenly remembering that it was precisely on that day I had saved her ring size in my phone.

My father hurried onto the stage and shoved the speech into my hand.

"Your younger brother has always been kind. He already knows what he did was wrong. Must you make things awkward for everyone?"

I looked down at the paper.

At the very top, it was written that Mathilda and I had incompatible personalities and had parted ways amicably.

The second line stated that I sincerely wished my younger brother well.

"Who wrote this?"

"What's the point of dwelling on that right now?"

"There is a point."

I flattened out the paper so the guests in the front row could see it clearly, then placed it back in front of my father.

"These are the words you want me to say, not the words I want to say."

Mathilda's eyes turned teary.

"We were together for eight years. Can't you show a tiny bit of grace?"

"It's precisely because we were together for eight years that I'm standing here asking you this."

I placed the ring box into her hand and let go.

"I'm not going through with this wedding. And I never will."

The emcee removed his headset, and no one at the banquet dared to raise their glass in a toast anymore.

As I walked down the stage, my father called out from behind me.

"If you walk out that door, don't ever bother coming back!"

I paused by the door and took off the groom's badge.

Beneath the old adhesive residue, my own name was still visible.

I placed it on the threshold and walked out.