The Marriage I Never Had

I looked up and scanned everyone in the room.

They laughed and joked as they surrounded Brianna and Leon, silently agreeing to keep the two of them at the center of attention.

In the middle of the laughter, Brianna and Leon bumped into each other. She naturally reached up to straighten Leon's tie, and he gazed at her tenderly.

Everyone watching wore the knowing, delighted smiles of people enjoying the sight of the two of them together.

Before I could look any longer, Dominic pulled me into the dressing room, unable to bear it.

"Enough, Harrison. Leon and Brianna knew each other first. They didn't tell you because they were afraid it would hurt you. We weren't deliberately keeping it from you. Besides, Leon doesn't mind. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of it?"

My parents came in through the door a moment later.

"Harrison, you're living in a multimillion-dollar house and enjoying the glory of being Brianna's husband. Leon and Brianna have already treated you well enough."

I'd been the one who made the boutonnieres pinned to their chests.

Mom. Dad. Brother.

I'd written each word myself, carefully and neatly, never imagining how cruel those same words would look now.

Seeing them there hurt worse than any wound.

My eyes were red, but I couldn't make a sound.

Dominic reached out to pat my shoulder the way he had when we were kids, but I backed away.

When my parents moved toward me, I turned and ran out of the dressing room, colliding with Brianna.

She steadied me and clasped my trembling hand. "Harrison, what's wrong?"

I looked into her concerned eyes and spoke hoarsely. "Brianna, can we get our marriage certificate this year?"

Her lips parted. She instinctively glanced back at Leon before shaking her head at me. "Harrison, a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. Even without that document binding us—"

"I understand." I cut her off, a chill sweeping through my entire body.

To her, the real restraint wasn't the marriage certificate. It was me.

Brianna seemed to realize something was wrong and tightened her grip on my hand. Her sleeve slid up, exposing her wrist. She had once tattooed my initials there and promised me, "Harrison, just like this tattoo, you'll always be a part of my life."

Now, a watch completely covered it. It was the same watch I had helped Leon choose.

At the time, he said that it was for someone important. I had been so oblivious that I'd even wished in silence for him to find happiness.

When she noticed me looking, she quickly pulled her sleeve down, flustered as she tried to explain.

I pretended I hadn't seen anything.

Just like the previous seven times, I went through with the wedding.

Only this time, I no longer waited with eager anticipation for Brianna to say, "Let's go get our marriage certificate."

…

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

Brianna had her driver take me home.

Every year after our wedding, she disappeared for a week to recover from the stress it caused her.

Time after time, I believed her. I understood her. I was even moved by the fact that she was willing to overcome her fear of marriage and have a wedding with me.

Yet, when I saw that Leon had forgotten to block me from his social media, I finally realized how foolish I had been.

The caption read, "My ninth wedding. Thank you, my dear Ms. Everly."

Nine pictures.

Different venues. Different wedding dresses. Different wedding rings.

They were completely different from the eight weddings Brianna and I had held at the same hotel, in the same dress, with even the same group of guests.

It wasn't that Brianna liked doing things the same way every time. She simply couldn't even be bothered to make an effort for me.

I closed my eyes and slumped back in the seat, the pain making it hard to breathe.

I yanked the wedding ring from my left ring finger and threw it out the window.

The car stopped in front of the villa.

…

On my way upstairs, I passed the trash can on the first floor. A familiar patch of white caught my eye.

I walked over.

There, crumpled on top of the trash, was the custom wedding dress I'd spent a year's salary on and waited three months to get from a renowned designer. It was covered in spots of mold.

I smiled faintly, then turned and went upstairs.

I turned on my computer and pulled up the application page for an overseas violin ensemble. Then, I went through each step and submitted my application.