Chapter 1: The Fifty-Second Goodbye

If someone had asked me five years ago what love looked like, I would have smiled without hesitation.

It looked like Owen Tadder.

The brilliant young lawyer who worked impossible hours but still found time to walk me home after work.

The man who promised me forever while slipping a tiny diamond ring onto my finger beneath a sky full of stars.

The man I believed would never let me down.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Today marked our fifty-second attempt at getting married.

Most couples only planned one wedding.

We had planned fifty-two.

And somehow, I had convinced myself that this one would finally be different.

There wasn't a grand ballroom this time.

No expensive orchestra.

No hundreds of guests whispering behind elegant glasses of champagne.

Just our immediate families, a small chapel overlooking the sea, and one last chance to become husband and wife.

I had even lowered my expectations.

Perhaps that was the saddest part.

Five years earlier, I dreamed of a fairy-tale wedding.

Now all I wanted was for my fiancé to stay long enough to say 'I do.'

The fever had started the previous night.

My entire body ached, but I ignored it.

I swallowed medicine, covered the dark circles beneath my eyes with makeup, and forced myself into the same wedding dress I had worn so many times that the fabric had begun to lose its shine.

Every alteration from previous cancellations had left another tiny stitch.

It wasn't just a wedding dress anymore.

It was a timeline of broken promises.

"You don't look well," my mother said quietly as she adjusted my veil.

"I'm fine."

"You're burning up."

"I'll survive today."

She looked at me with heartbreaking pity.

"Sweetheart... are you sure you still want this?"

I smiled automatically.

"Of course."

The answer came so naturally that I almost believed it myself.

Outside, workers hurried to arrange fresh flowers around the small altar.

The wedding planner greeted me with an encouraging smile.

"Everything is ready, Miss Carter."

"Mr. Tadder arrived twenty minutes ago."

"Wonderful."

Holding my bouquet tightly, I walked toward the groom's waiting room.

I imagined Owen adjusting his tie.

Perhaps he was nervous.

Maybe he was rehearsing the vows he had written.

Maybe today would erase every disappointment that came before.

I gently pushed open the door.

Then I stopped walking.

Owen wasn't fixing his tie.

He wasn't preparing for our wedding.

He was kneeling on the floor.

His expensive suit pants rested against polished wooden flooring while both of his hands carefully massaged someone's ankle.

"Does this hurt?" he asked softly.

"A little," Vanessa replied, pouting.

"You shouldn't have worn heels if your ankle hadn't healed yet."

"I wanted to look professional today."

"You're always thinking about work."

"You're impossible."

They both laughed.

Neither noticed me standing at the doorway.

Vanessa Fondler.

Owen's intern.

The same woman who somehow managed to become the center of every emergency that had destroyed every wedding we had ever planned.

The first cancellation happened because she accidentally filed the wrong legal documents.

Owen left me waiting alone on a beach wedding venue while he rushed to fix her mistake.

The second time, we were already standing before the officiant.

He received a phone call saying another attorney was criticizing Vanessa during an important case.

Without hesitation, he left the ceremony.

He never even looked back.

After that came countless excuses.

Vanessa forgot evidence.

Vanessa worked too late.

Vanessa got sick.

Vanessa locked herself out of the office.

Vanessa cried.

Vanessa needed him.

And every single time...

Apparently, I could wait.

"Emily?"

Owen finally noticed me.

He stood quickly, looking only slightly embarrassed.

"You're here already."

I glanced toward Vanessa.

She smiled awkwardly before lowering her eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"My ankle suddenly started hurting again."

"It's alright," I answered politely.

Was it alright?

No.

But after fifty-one disappointments, pretending had become second nature.

Owen checked his watch.

"The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes."

"Good," I replied.

"Then we'd better get ready."

"Yeah."

Instead of moving toward the mirror, he turned back to Vanessa.

"Can you stand?"

"I'll try."

He supported her carefully as if she might break.

I watched silently.

Five years together.

I couldn't remember the last time he had looked at me with that much concern.

Guests gradually filled the chapel.

Soft music floated through the open windows.

The sea breeze carried the scent of fresh roses.

Everything was perfect.

Except for the growing feeling in my chest that I already knew how today would end.

Ten minutes before the ceremony, Owen's phone rang.

The ringtone echoed through the hallway.

He answered immediately.

"What happened?"

His expression changed.

"Slow down."

"Where are you?"

He hung up.

Vanessa looked frightened.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Don't apologize."

Owen grabbed his car keys.

I stared at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Vanessa's ankle is swelling."

"She needs to go to the hospital."

For a moment, I thought he was joking.

Surely no one would postpone their own wedding because of a swollen ankle.

"The hospital?" I repeated.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"It could be serious."

"Owen..."

"The ceremony starts in a few minutes."

"We'll postpone."

His voice sounded almost casual.

As though postponing our wedding for the fifty-second time was no different from rescheduling a business meeting.

"Next time," he promised.

"I swear it'll happen next time."

I looked into his eyes.

Searching.

Hoping.

Looking for even the smallest sign that leaving me broke his heart too.

I found nothing.

Only urgency.

Only concern.

None of it was for me.

I followed him outside.

"Owen."

He opened the passenger door for Vanessa.

"Please sit carefully."

She nodded gratefully.

"I'm sorry, Emily."

"I never wanted this."

I almost laughed.

She had never wanted this?

Then why did it always happen?

Why was she always the reason?

Owen turned toward me.

"Don't be upset."

"I'll make it up to you."

"Tonight I'll bring that strawberry cake you love."

I blinked slowly.

Strawberry cake.

I hated strawberries.

I hated cake.

Five years ago, after our first date, he bought me strawberry shortcake.

I forced myself to eat it because he looked so happy.

Later I admitted the truth.

He laughed, apologized, and even typed a reminder into his phone.

"Emily hates strawberries.

Never buy them again."

Apparently...

He had forgotten.

Just like he'd forgotten countless other things about me.

I smiled.

It surprised even me.

"It's alright."

"Vanessa shouldn't have to wait."

He looked relieved.

"Thanks for understanding."

"You're the best."

The car drove away.

I stood there until it disappeared around the corner.

Only then did my smile disappear.

The wedding planner approached carefully.

"Miss Carter... should I tell the guests?"

I nodded.

"Tell them the wedding is canceled."

"Again."

Inside the chapel, whispers spread like wildfire.

Some guests sighed with sympathy.

Others simply shook their heads.

My father quietly walked toward me.

He removed his suit jacket and placed it around my shoulders.

"Come home," he said softly.

"No."

I looked back at the empty altar one last time.

"First... I need to finish something."

I walked into the bridal room.

The mirror reflected a woman I barely recognized.

Dark circles.

A pale face.

A smile that had completely vanished.

Slowly, I reached for the zipper of my wedding dress.

Then I stopped.

Instead...

I gripped the delicate lace with both hands.

And tore.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the silent room.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Until the dress that had witnessed fifty-two broken weddings lay scattered across the floor.

I stared at the pieces.

Then quietly whispered to myself.

"Five years is enough."

"There won't be a fifty-third wedding."

"There won't even be an engagement anymore."