Chapter 3: The Wedding That Wasn't Mine

“Wipe your tears. Don’t you want to look pretty for the pictures?”

After a moment, his end of the line quieted down.

Hollis’s voice came through clearly again, this time laced with impatience.

“Enough. Go apologize in the group chat.”

“The wedding is about to start, and you’re still making a scene. I don’t have time to coddle you today.”

As if just remembering what I’d said, he let out a short, dismissive laugh.

“Besides, you really think you can live without me?”

We had been together for ten years.

He didn’t believe I would ever leave.

I hung up and scooted over, rolling down the window.

The wind whipped through the car, ruining the hair and makeup I’d spent three hours perfecting.

The driver had heard everything. He kept glancing at me in the mirror, and finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Seriously? A guy like that is getting married?”

“When I got married, I wanted to carry my wife all the way home.”

I stared out the window, saying nothing.

Had Hollis ever carried me?

He had. On his back.

That winter, New England was buried under a historic blizzard, and the university canceled all classes.

My fever spiked to 104. My roommate was pressing ice packs to my skin, on the verge of tears herself.

It was Hollis who stormed into the girls’ dorm, brushing past the RA who tried to stop him. He lifted me from the bed and onto his back.

He carried me three miles through knee-deep snow to the campus health center.

I was barely conscious, but I remember him stumbling, shaking from the cold and effort.

But I was warm.

He had taken off the only down jacket he owned and wrapped it around me.

Later, when I woke up in a hospital bed, I learned he’d been admitted to the ER for exhaustion and frostbite.

I held onto that memory for years.

Back then, I truly believed he loved me.

The driver clicked his tongue.

“So what happened to him?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know.”

Maybe it started the day he found out Gianna was back in the country.

He’d accidentally smashed the matching mugs we’d made in pottery class.

Then there was the time he forgot me at the office during a downpour because he’d driven to the airport to pick up Gianna instead.

The day I had surgery, he was at an amusement park with her, riding roller coasters.

Gianna always said she never wanted to get married.

It was as if that gave Hollis a license to make his favoritism blatant.

Once. Twice. Too many times to count.

And that’s how we got here.

After I left the group chat, Hollis sent a single question mark.

Then, nothing.

In his mind, this was just another tantrum. He was sure that after a while, I’d come back, I’d be the one to apologize.

But this time, I was done.

When I got back to the hotel, the front desk staff gave me a few strange looks.

I hauled the heavy skirt of my dress back to my room, wiped off my makeup, and unzipped the gown.

Then I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

It still didn’t feel real.

Last night, in this very bed, I had been too excited to sleep.

I opened my phone. Gianna had just posted an Instagram Story.

[So no one can say I crossed a line, here's a video to prove it. I was really just borrowing the wedding for the experience. Hollis and I didn't do anything we weren't supposed to.]

The video showed their entrance.

I tapped it anyway.

Gianna, in her wedding dress, walked slowly toward Hollis as the guests applauded.

They stood before the officiant and recited the vows.

Until death do us part.

Then they exchanged rings and clasped hands.

Watching it, I had to laugh.

The only thing they hadn’t done was the final, “You may now kiss the bride.”