ManyWriters

I made my way back to Illinois discreetly, holding onto my bridal gown—a reminder of the vow Jason Grey and I had exchanged three years prior. My pulse quickened with excitement as I neared the location of our long-awaited meeting. Instead of the loving encounter I had envisioned, I walked into a shocking scene.
There stood Jason, his fingers interlaced with those of another woman. But this wasn't just any woman—she was an exact replica of me. A doppelganger.
They were in the midst of their betrothal ceremony.
The instant her watery gaze met mine, she became still, then burst into tears. Without uttering a word, she darted from the room, stumbling as if fleeing from a specter.
Jason turned to face me, anger evident in his attractive face. "Why must you look like that?" he barked. "You're causing distress to everyone!"
His harsh words cut deep. Before I could reply, the man I once believed in chased after his 'fiancée', abandoning me to embarrassment and confusion.
The gathering was merciless. Pointing fingers, hushed gossip turned to jeering laughter as I became the focus of their amusement. My supposed friends—familiar faces that once greeted me warmly—made no effort to conceal their contempt.
"Did you have to return and spoil everything? Wouldn't it have been better if you'd remained deceased overseas?"
"For all this time, Paula had to bear your likeness as if it were a hex. The moment you reappear, you bring chaos like a tempest."
"Offer an apology and show remorse, or our friendship is over."
Revulsion filled their eyes, but I remained unmoved. I allowed their words to slide off me like water off a duck's back. Without a backward glance, I phoned my mother.
"Mom," I said, my tone unwavering and icy, "I'll say yes to the Moore family's marriage proposal."
The room fell into shocked quiet as I exited, leaving their chatter and criticism behind. These so-called companions weren't deserving of my concern.

My Husband's Shocking Betrayal at the Altar

I stepped back into the home Jason and I had once called ours—six years of our lives encapsulated within its walls. Three years had passed since I'd last been here, but entering felt like intruding on someone else's private space.


The main bedroom was completely transformed. My things were nowhere to be seen, replaced by unfamiliar items: a floral scent hung in the air, and feminine underwear along with men's shorts were strewn carelessly across what used to be our bed.


The brazenness of it all was infuriating.


As if on schedule, my phone buzzed. It was Jason.


"Do you realize what you've done?" he snapped as soon as I answered. "I've kept this from Paula for ages. Why did you have to show up now?!"


I suppressed a sarcastic laugh, my tone cool and sharp. "Have you forgotten our agreement from three years ago?"


The line went quiet. Images flashed through my mind: the day of my departure for overseas studies. Jason had embraced me tightly, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'll be here when you return," he'd vowed. "Upon your homecoming, I'll give you the most spectacular wedding imaginable."


He eventually broke the silence, his voice gentler but still patronizing. "I remember. But you must understand—Paula has endured so much because of you. You need to ask for her forgiveness. Only then might we have a chance."


His condescending tone was almost comical. I let out a dry chuckle.


"What's so amusing?" he asked, irritation evident in his voice.


Before I could answer, I heard her voice—her voice—in the background of the call. It was quiet, shaky, and sickeningly sweet.


"Jason... so I'm just a placeholder, am I? You said you'd marry me... was that all a lie?"


I heard the fear in his voice as he dropped the phone, rushing to console her. "No, Paula! You're gorgeous. You're the only one for me. I'd never wed her."


Two rejections. The words cut deeper than any knife could.


I ended the call, refusing to listen to another moment of their absurd charade.


That evening, Jason finally arrived home. The door squeaked open, and when he spotted me sitting there, he halted, taken aback.


"How did you get in?" he questioned, his tone icy. "Where did you find a key?"


He'd forgotten. I was the one who had transformed this house into a home. I'd selected the furnishings, decorated every nook, and had the keys made.


Recognition flickered across his face, but he quickly concealed it with a forced grin. From behind his back, he produced a small velvet case.


"Look at this," he said, opening it to display a ring. "I had it specially made. Just for you."


He took my hand, his touch gentle but calculated, and attempted to slip the ring onto my finger.


"You're indebted to Paula," he whispered. "I don't want you to apologize. This is sufficient."


The sheer audacity—the absolute gall—made me want to laugh all over again.


Was this truly the man I had once loved?


2#02