Is Before Wedding Based On Valarie'S True Story?

One day before my wedding, my fiancé, Tristan, declared, “you can no longer be my bride." The reason? My sister, Victoria, had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Her dying wish was for me to give up my place as the bride, so she could marry my fiancé instead. And Tristan agreed without hesitation. He even turning on me, "How can you be so heartless? She's your own sister!" The mocking smiles from my sister and the righteous anger from my fiancé left me broken. Little did I know, I would turn to the man I never anticipated—Rowan, my fiancé's uncle. He was the true power behind the family. Rumored to be ruthless, politically powerful, and never interested in women. However, I had never expected that he would took me in his arms tightly."Don't leave me."

On what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, Deviana was left at the altar. Her fiancé, Adrian, chose to walk away—for a woman from his past, Leviana, who had suddenly fallen ill and called for him. In front of the guests and countless flashing cameras, Deviana was forced to swallow the bitter truth: abandoned, humiliated, and ridiculed. But from the ruins of her pride and shattered heart, Deviana made a vow to rise again. She would not let Leviana steal everything—love, reputation, or power.

On her birthday, Chloe’s world falls apart when her boyfriend abandons her. Seeking comfort, she makes the worst mistake of her life—or maybe the best one. In a moment of weakness, she ends up in the arms of Ruan, her half-sister Megan’s rejected fiancé. That single night changes everything. When Megan disappears and Chloe’s family turns against her, she is forced into an unthinkable role: the substitute bride. Trapped in a loveless marriage, she faces a ruthless father, a cruel stepmother, and a husband who belongs to someone else. Two years later, after her father’s death and Megan’s shocking return, the fragile balance shatters. Ruan, torn between the past and the present, demands a divorce. But as the papers are drawn, he realizes something he never expected—Chloe has taken root in his heart in ways he cannot deny. Now, he must face the one question that could rewrite their fate: What if the love he spent years searching for has always been with the woman he swore he would never love?

Just three days after we got engaged, I stumbled across a private story posted by the girl he had grown up with. 'Too bad the boy who confessed to me ninety-nine times is marrying someone else in ten days.' In the photo, he trailed behind her through a crowded mall, his arms loaded with shopping bags, looking as if he had rehearsed the scene a hundred times. Curious, I scrolled down to read the comments. 'No way. The childhood-best-friend and first-love storyline still lost? Girl, that hurts.' 'Lost? He's getting married and still spending the whole day shopping with her. She didn't lose anything.' 'I feel bad for the bride. I'm seriously waiting for confession number one hundred to happen at the wedding, followed by a runaway groom scene.' Watching strangers bicker in the comments, I quietly pressed the like button, blending into their chaos. None of them knew that in just ten days, I would be the one stepping away from the altar. The fake-death package I'd ordered was already in motion. While my fiance and his childhood sweetheart mourned the love they claimed was out of reach, I quietly counted down the days until I could disappear for good.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.

When my pilot boyfriend canceled our wedding for the 18th time, I finally snapped. The first time, his trainee got her period, and he bailed on me just to take care of her. The second time, she messed up a task, and all he said was, "Jan's upset", before walking out and leaving me to face our wedding guests alone like some kind of joke. We've been together for three years, and every single time she had an issue, he dropped our wedding plans to rush to her side. Finally, it hits me—maybe I never really mattered to him. So I make up my mind to see the world on my own and book a flight to Pavrielle. At least this way, no one will get the chance to leave me behind again.