No Apologies, No Regrets

Fedora Smith never believed in fairytales, but she had believed in love.She had believed in the slow burn of whispered promises, in the warmth of a hand held too long, in the quiet certainty that when you built something with someone, it was supposed to last.But standing her, rooted in place, breath trapped in her chest, fingers trembling at her sides, she realized something cold and gut-wrenching.Love was nothing but a carefully crafted lie.She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet. The soft blue glow from the bedside lamp painted the room in a dim haze, but she saw enough.She saw them.Her boyfriend of four years, the man she had loved beyond reason, the man she had dreamt of marrying.And her best friend of twenty-five years, the sister she never had, the one person she had trusted with her life.Pants down. Bodies tangled. On the very same bed Fedora had bought for their anniversary.The very same bedspread she had customized with their faces; a surprise she had planned for him

After getting home with her things from the office, she unpacked and took the wedding invitation again, probably to check if it was all her mind playing games on her. She sat on her bed, the wedding invitation still clutched in her trembling hands. Her ex-boyfriend. Her best friend. Getting married.She had stared at the words for an hour, reading and rereading them, as if the ink might rearrange itself into something more believable. Four years with him, and he never proposed. Six months with her, and he was ready to walk down the aisle.It was laughable.It was humiliating. Very humiliating!She tossed the card onto the nightstand and curled into herself. She had already lost her job. Now, she had lost the last shred of certainty she had in her personal life.For weeks, she drifted—drinking and sleeping too much, eating too little, avoiding calls, and ignoring texts. She had built a life around stability, control, and success. And yet, here she was, stripped of all three.Then one d

Fedora had never envisioned herself in the wedding business, but Bridal Fix was not a typical wedding company. There were no flower arrangements, no giddy brides dreaming of their big day, no childhood fairytales being fulfilled. Instead, Bridal Fix operated in a world of necessity, where marriage was a tool, a strategy, an answer to problems that money alone could not solve.Each marriage was a transaction, meticulously planned based on the needs of the client. Some men needed only a simple court registration—a signature, a ring, and a marriage certificate—to satisfy business or legal obligations. Others required the full spectacle of a wedding, dictated by cultural or family expectations. Traditional ceremonies, white weddings, elaborate receptions—every detail was determined by the demands of the client’s world.Fedora had found herself standing in grand banquet halls, exchanging vows before hundreds of guests, only to quietly sign divorce papers months later. In other cases, she m

The reply came almost instantly."Tomorrow. The Skylight Hotel. 8 PM. Please."Fedora’s fingers hovered over the screen. She had built her life on precision and control, never letting emotions dictate her actions. But this? This was uncharted territory.Still, she found herself typing back:"I’ll be there."***The Skylight Hotel was a place for the elite—business moguls, celebrities, and politicians. Fedora had been there before, always as someone’s wife, never as herself.She walked in with the quiet confidence she had perfected over the years. But the moment she saw him sitting in the dimly lit lounge, something shifted inside her.Tyler.The man who had once held her heart. The man who had shattered it.He looked different—tired, worn down. His once perfectly tailored life now had visible creases.Fedora sat across from him, keeping her expression unreadable. “You have five minutes.”He exhaled, rubbing his hands together before looking at her. “I messed up, Fedora.”She let out a

Fedora had seen a lot of desperate people in her line of work. Men who needed a quick wedding to satisfy an inheritance clause. Men who needed to fend off meddling families with an impressive fiancée on their arm. Clients who offered her small fortunes to play the perfect role in their carefully constructed lies.But nothing—nothing—compared to the desperation in Cynthia’s eyes now.Fedora took her time. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. She was dressed in a satin robe, hair pulled into a loose bun, as if she had all the time in the world. Meanwhile, Cynthia stood there like a beggar at her door.“I wouldn’t have come if I had another option,” Cynthia said, hands wringing together. “But you’re the only one who can help me.”Fedora arched a brow. “Now, that is interesting.”Cynthia inhaled sharply. “I know I’m the last person you want to see, but—”Fedora tilted her head, pretending to be thoughtful. “You know, I could’ve sworn the last time we spoke, you