She Mourned Him At Our Wedding

The wedding was not canceled over this little incident. Instead, it went ahead with even more fanfare than planned—only the groom was no longer me.

I took off my wedding ring and threw it at Cynthia Brooke's feet, sincerely wishing her well in her unwavering devotion to her childhood sweetheart. If they wanted to make up for lost time, I would gladly step aside and let them have their funeral wedding.

"What did you mean by that?" Cynthia demanded, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. She had cried for three whole days after the death of her childhood sweetheart, Grant Lincoln.

I had originally intended to call off the wedding, but Cynthia insisted that I did not. The wedding would go ahead as planned. And for this wedding, I had spared no effort. I had personally designed her wedding gown over the course of an entire month, only for her to walk into the ceremony dressed in mourning clothes and humiliate me in front of everyone.

"Can't you tell? I'm giving the wedding to you two so you can have your ghost wedding! Your love is so touching that it could move the universe. If I don't step aside, I'd be the pathetic one."

I glanced at Cynthia's grim face, her expression shifting through a range of emotions. The sight was almost entertaining.

She frowned and asked unhappily, "Is that a threat? You think I can't hear the sarcasm in your voice? Before he died, he made me promise to mourn him for three days, as a tribute to the past we regretted losing. It was only three days. Did you really have to get this angry and humiliate him like this? He's already dead, yet you're using him as a joke. You're a heartless monster!"

At that, Cynthia then took the wedding ring off her finger and threw it straight at my face.

Laughter broke out around us. Every single person was mocking me for being cuckolded by a dead man and for losing to someone who was not even alive anymore.

One of her friends even laughed scornfully. "Don't think that just because you married Cynthia, we'll acknowledge you as her husband. As far as we're concerned, Grant is the only man for Cynthia. Even though he's dead, we still won't accept a useless man like you. You don't have Grant's generosity or tolerance. You'll never measure up to him."

With her friends backing her up, Cynthia became even more determined not to give in to me.

We stood there in a tense standoff, neither of us willing to yield.

But Cynthia was not afraid of making me angry. She had always known exactly how to hold my heart hostage. She knew I loved her more than my own life and would never really have the heart to leave her.

But this time, I refused to indulge her any longer. If she had loved me even a little, she would never have dressed in mourning for another man and shown up at our wedding like that, leaving me humiliated in front of everyone.

Grant was not without family. What right did she, a woman with no blood relation to him, have to mourn him as though she were family?

At the end of the day, Grant was the man she truly loved, so why should I keep lying to myself?

"Fine. I'm not as kind or generous as your precious Grant, so you'll have to help Cynthia find another husband. I'll have a lawyer draft the divorce papers ASAP and set you free. Whatever you do after that will have nothing to do with me."

Cynthia remained unmoved. She simply stared at me coldly.