The Bride He Hides, the Wife He Weds

I looked around at everyone gathered in the room. They were laughing and joking, surrounding Daniel Foster and Avery Morgan as the two stood at the center of it all. It was as if they were all in on the same secret.

Amid the playful banter, Daniel and Avery accidentally bumped into each other. He instinctively reached out to rub her reddened forehead, and she lowered her head with a shy giggle.

Everyone watching them wore the same knowing smile, as though they were cheering on their favorite couple.

I kept staring. My older sister, Vivian Cooper, couldn't stand to watch me suffer any longer and pulled me into the dressing room.

"Enough, Elle! Avery and Daniel knew each other long before you came along. They kept it from you because they didn't want to hurt you."

She added, her tone growing impatient, "Besides, we weren't deliberately trying to deceive you, either. Avery doesn't even mind sharing him with you. So what exactly do you have to make a fuss about?"

My parents came in moments later.

"Elle, you live in a multimillion-dollar house and enjoy the status of being Daniel's wife. They've done more than enough for you."

They were still wearing the boutonnieres I'd made by hand, each one embroidered with the wearer's name. I'd painstakingly stitched every letter, making sure each stroke was crisp.

Yet seeing those boutonnieres on them now hurt more than all the needle pricks I'd endured while making them.

My eyes burned, and tears threatened to spill. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force a single sound out of my throat.

Vivian reached out to pat my head, just as she'd done when we were kids, trying to comfort me. But I recoiled in terror, stumbling backward until I fell to the floor.

My parents rushed to help me up, but I scrambled away from them, desperate to escape. Half crawling, I made it out of the dressing room and ran straight into Daniel.

He caught me and steadied me before clasping my trembling hands in his. "Elle, what's wrong?"

I looked up into his worried eyes, my voice hoarse as I asked, "Daniel, can we finally make our marriage official this year?"

His lips parted, but before he could answer, his gaze drifted toward Avery. Then he shook his head.

"Elle, a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. Even without a legal bond between us—"

"I understand." I cut him off, a bone-deep chill spreading through my body.

To him, the real chain holding him back wasn't a marriage certificate. It was me.

Daniel seemed to sense that something was wrong because his grip on my hands tightened. The movement pushed up his sleeve, exposing his wrist.

He'd once gotten a tattoo of my initials there. Back then, he'd promised me, "Elle, just like this tattoo, you'll always be a part of my life."

Now, a watch completely covered it. It was the very watch I'd personally helped Avery choose.

At the time, she'd told me it was a gift for someone important to her. Completely oblivious to the truth, I'd even silently wished her happiness, hoping she'd found someone who loved her.

When Daniel noticed me staring at his watch, he hurriedly pulled down his sleeve, looking flustered, as though he wanted to explain himself.

I pretended I hadn't noticed a thing.

Then I turned away and went through with the wedding, just as I had the previous seven times. Only this time, I no longer waited with breathless anticipation for Daniel to say the words I'd spent years longing to hear—"Let's make our marriage official!"

When the wedding finally ended, my sister and parents all breathed a sigh of relief.

…

Daniel had his driver take me home.

Every year after our wedding, he'd disappear for a week, claiming he needed time to recover from the stress of the ceremony. I'd always believed him and tried to be understanding. I'd even felt touched that he was willing to overcome his fear of marriage just to hold a wedding with me.

But now, as I stared at Avery's social media post on my phone, I finally realized just how ridiculous I'd been. She must have forgotten to hide the post from me.

The caption read, "My nine weddings. Thank you, my dear Mr. Foster."

Above it were nine photos, each capturing a different wedding at a different location, with a different wedding dress and a different set of wedding rings.

They couldn't have been more different from my eight weddings, all held at the same hotel, with me wearing the same wedding dress and surrounded by the exact same guests every single time.

It wasn't that Daniel was devoted to doing things only one way. It was that when it came to me, he couldn't even be bothered to put in the effort to pretend otherwise.

I closed my eyes and slumped back in my seat, letting my tears disappear into my hair. Then I pulled the wedding ring off my left ring finger and hurled it out the window.

The car pulled up outside the villa. As I headed upstairs, I passed the trash can on the first floor, where a familiar patch of white caught my eye. I stopped and took a closer look.

Inside was the groom's suit I'd painstakingly embroidered with my own name. It was now covered in patches of mold and carelessly tossed on top of the garbage.

I curled my lips into a bitter smile, then turned away and continued upstairs.

Once in my room, I opened my computer and pulled up the application page for an overseas ballet company. Following each step carefully, I completed the application and confirmed my submission.