Chapter 5: Too Late

By the time Anton reached the entrance, the fleet was already gone. He stood there, taking deep breaths, trying to force down the panic rising in his chest. He told himself I had only taken that photo to make him angry.

He convinced himself that was the case, as I knew Hector Gray was his sworn rival. He had never seen me talk to him before. There was no way we were suddenly together.

Anton was going to call me from a new number when Lina hugged him from behind, still in her gown.

"What are you doing, Anton? Everyone's waiting for us inside."

Anton stiffened at her touch.

For the first time that day, instead of instinctively comforting Lina, he removed her arms from around his waist.

"Go back inside."

Lina blinked. "But the toast—"

"I said go back inside."

His voice was colder than she had ever heard it.

Lina's eyes immediately reddened. "Are you angry with me because Emilia left?"

Anton didn't answer.

His gaze remained fixed on the empty road.

That silence frightened Lina more than any accusation could have.

She reached for his sleeve. "Anton, Emilia's just throwing a tantrum. You know how she gets. She'll cool down and come back."

That was exactly what Anton had been telling himself.

Ten years.

I had loved him for ten years.

Whenever we argued, I had always been the first one to compromise.

Whenever he forgot an anniversary, I convinced myself he was busy.

Whenever he canceled our plans because Lina needed something, I waited.

Whenever he participated in another one of Lina's fake weddings, I swallowed my humiliation and stayed.

Anton had become so accustomed to my patience that he had mistaken it for permanence.

She's still with me.

We're still a couple.

She has no other choice, anyway.

Those were the words he had spoken in Lina's dressing room.

He had believed every one of them.

But for some reason, the image Hector posted made his chest feel strangely hollow.

I wasn't crying in the photograph.

I wasn't looking back.

I was smiling.

And Anton suddenly realized he hadn't seen me smile like that around him in a very long time.

"Give me your phone," he said.

Lina hesitated. "Why?"

"Your phone."

She reluctantly handed it over.

Anton dialed my number.

The call rang.

His expression changed immediately.

I had blocked him, but I hadn't blocked Lina.

After several rings, the call connected.

"Hello?"

My voice came through the speaker.

Anton almost forgot what he wanted to say.

"Emilia."

There was silence on the other end.

Then I calmly asked, "Why are you using Lina's phone?"

"Where are you?"

"That's none of your business."

His jaw tightened.

"Stop this nonsense and tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

For several seconds, I said nothing.

Then I laughed softly.

"Come get me? Aren't you in the middle of your wedding?"

"You know that isn't real."

"The kiss looked real."

Anton froze.

Lina's face went pale.

"She kissed me unexpectedly."

"And you let her."

"I was surprised."

"Anton, I don't care."

Those four words struck him harder than any accusation could have.

"What do you mean you don't care?"

"Exactly what I said."

My voice remained calm.

"Whether Lina kisses you, marries you, sleeps beside you, or has your children someday has nothing to do with me anymore."

"Emilia!"

"We broke up."

"I never agreed to that."

"A breakup doesn't require your permission."

Anton gripped the phone tighter.

"And Hector? What's your relationship with him?"

I looked across the car at Hector.

He was sitting beside me, calmly reviewing something on his tablet.

When he noticed me looking at him, he raised an eyebrow.

I turned toward the window.

"Again, none of your business."

"He's using you to get at me."

"Maybe."

"You know what kind of man he is."

"I know exactly what kind of man you are too."

Anton went silent.

I continued, "At least Hector has never made me carry another woman's wedding veil while wearing the gown I wanted for myself."

The call went dead.

Anton immediately tried calling again.

This time, Lina's number had been blocked too.

"She blocked me?" Lina whispered.

Anton stared at the phone.

Something cold settled in his stomach.

Lina forced a laugh. "She's really angry this time. But don't worry. I'll talk to her tomorrow. She always listens to me."

Anton turned his head slowly.

"Does she?"

"Of course."

Lina smiled nervously. "We're best friends."

For some reason, those words suddenly sounded ridiculous to him.

A best friend.

He remembered the coffee spilling over Lina's gown.

He remembered me standing there with a pale face.

He remembered dragging me into his car despite knowing about my injured arm.

He remembered driving at a speed that always made me sick.

He remembered me vomiting beside the bridal shop while he walked past without looking.

Then he remembered the shopkeeper.

"There was one lady who kept coming here just to look at this gown, but her fiance never had time to come with her."

His chest tightened.

He had never realized the woman she was talking about was me.

Or perhaps he had realized it and simply hadn't cared enough to stop.

"Anton?"

Lina reached toward him.

He stepped away.

"Go finish your wedding yourself."

Her expression collapsed.

"What?"

"I'm leaving."

"But you're the groom!"

Anton stared at her.

"You said it was fake."

Lina's lips parted.

"If it's fake, you don't need me."

He walked toward his car.

Lina lifted her gown and hurried after him.

"Anton, wait! Everyone already thinks we're married. If you leave now, I'll be humiliated!"

He stopped.

That sentence sounded painfully familiar.

For nine weddings, humiliation had always been Lina's greatest concern.

Never mine.

He looked back toward the hotel.

For the first time, Anton wondered what people had said about me during all those ceremonies.

His girlfriend sitting among the guests while he exchanged vows with her best friend.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Nine times.

He suddenly understood why our mutual friends had stopped reassuring me.

There was nothing left to reassure.

"Handle it yourself," he said.

Then he left.

Meanwhile, I was watching the city disappear behind the tinted windows of Hector's car.

The convoy had already traveled far from the hotel.

My phone remained silent after I blocked Lina's number.

Hector finally put his tablet aside.

"Regretting it?"

"No."

"You answered quickly."

"Because there's nothing to think about."

He studied my face.

"Ten years is a long time."

"That's exactly why I don't want to waste an eleventh."

A faint smile appeared on Hector's lips.

"Good answer."

I looked at him.

Hector Gray had been Anton's business rival for years.

They competed for investments, contracts, acquisitions, and practically anything else that could be turned into a contest.

Because of that, I had deliberately kept my distance from Hector.

Anton hated him.

I had once believed loving Anton meant sharing his enemies.

Now that seemed childish.

"Why did you come yourself?" I asked.

"You called me."

"You could've sent someone."

"You specifically said you wanted to show me what you looked like in that wedding gown."

His gaze moved over me.

"I wasn't going to miss that."

I looked down at my clothes.

I hadn't even changed into a wedding gown.

"I didn't get to wear it."

"I know."

"How?"

"The bridal shop called me."

I frowned.

Hector leaned back.

"I bought the company this morning."

I stared at him.

"You what?"

"The bridal company."

"Why would you buy an entire company?"

"Because you told me two months ago that they refused your application."

I went still.

Two months earlier, after another argument with Anton, I had attended an industry dinner alone.

Hector happened to be there.

We had spoken for less than twenty minutes.

I had casually mentioned that I wanted to collaborate with the bridal brand as a designer, but my proposal had been rejected before reaching the creative director.

I barely remembered saying it.

Apparently, Hector did.

"You bought a company because they rejected my proposal?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

His mouth curved slightly.

"It was already undervalued. Your complaint just made me look at the numbers."

That sounded more like Hector.

"Your proposal is being reconsidered," he added.

"I don't need favors."

"It isn't one."

He opened his tablet and handed it to me.

"Your designs are good."

I scrolled through the screen.

My original sketches were there.

So were sales projections, production costs, target demographics, and a proposed launch strategy.

This wasn't something he had thrown together to impress me.

Someone had actually evaluated my work.

"If you want the position, earn it in the final presentation," Hector said. "If you don't, walk away."

I looked at him for a long moment.

Anton had spent years telling me my designs were a hobby.

Whenever I talked about opening my own studio, he would tell me there was no reason to work so hard when I could simply marry him.

Hector had known about my ambitions for twenty minutes and had somehow taken them more seriously than my fiance of ten years.

"When is the presentation?"

"Monday."

"I'll be there."

"Good."

The car stopped in front of a private estate.

I frowned.

"Why are we here?"

Hector stepped out and held the door open for me.

"You called because you wanted to show me what you looked like in a wedding gown."

"That was mostly an excuse to leave."

"I know."

"Then?"

"I still want to see it."

Inside, several stylists were waiting.

At the center of the room stood a gown.

Not Lina's gown.

Not the one Anton had taken from the display cabinet.

This one was completely different.

Clean lines.

Pearl embroidery.

A fitted waist flowing into layers of soft fabric.

It looked remarkably similar to a sketch I had made years ago.

My breath caught.

"Where did you get this?"

"You designed it."

"That was just a sketch."

"Not anymore."

I reached out and touched the fabric.

For years, I had imagined wearing a wedding gown beside Anton.

Yet whenever I tried to discuss our wedding, something always came up.

A meeting.

A business trip.

A crisis.

Lina.

There was always Lina.

Now I stood before a gown created from my own design, and strangely, I didn't think of marriage at all.

I thought of myself.

"Try it on," Hector said.

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because a wedding gown doesn't belong only to women getting married."

His gaze settled on the dress.

"You're a designer. Consider it your first fitting."

For the first time that day, I smiled without forcing it.

"Fine."

Half an hour later, I stepped out of the dressing room.

Hector was standing near the window.

He turned.

Then he went completely still.

I looked down at myself.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

His answer came more quietly than usual.

"It looks exactly right."

One of the stylists took several photographs.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

There was no Anton beside me.

No Lina.

No fake ceremony.

No audience waiting to gossip.

And yet I had never felt more like myself.

My phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number appeared.

"Emilia, come home. We need to talk."

I knew who it was without asking.

I deleted it.

Another arrived.

"I know you're angry, but don't involve Hector in this. Whatever you're trying to prove, you've proved it."

Delete.

Then another.

"Ten years don't disappear in one afternoon."

This time, I stared at the message for several seconds.

Anton was right.

Ten years didn't disappear in one afternoon.

They disappeared gradually.

One canceled date at a time.

One ignored tear at a time.

One fake wedding at a time.

By the ninth wedding, there had been nothing left to destroy.

I typed a reply.

"You're right. It took me ten years to leave."

Then I blocked that number too.

Across the city, Anton stared at my reply until the screen went dark.

He had returned to the apartment we once shared.

For the first time, he noticed how empty it looked.

My shoes were gone from the entrance.

My coat was gone from the rack.

The photographs on the shelf had disappeared.

The drawer where I kept my documents was empty.

Even the small ceramic mug I used every morning was gone.

Anton walked quickly into the bedroom.

Half the closet was empty.

On the dressing table lay the engagement ring he had given me.

The chain I used to wear it around my neck was neatly coiled beside it.

Anton picked up the ring.

For the first time, he noticed how cheap and careless it looked.

He remembered Lina's perfectly fitted diamond ring.

His breathing became uneven.

I hadn't left in a fit of anger.

I had packed.

I had planned.

I had already been preparing for a life without him.

His phone rang.

Lina.

Anton rejected the call.

It rang again.

He switched the phone off.

Then his gaze landed on a folder tucked beneath the jewelry box.

Inside were wedding sketches.

Dozens of them.

Some were dated eight years ago.

Others five years ago.

Three years ago.

Last year.

Each one showed a different version of the wedding I had once dreamed of having with him.

At the very bottom was the newest sketch.

There was no groom in it.

Only a woman in a wedding gown walking away.

Anton stared at the drawing for a long time.

At the bottom, in my handwriting, were four words.

"I choose myself now."

For the first time in ten years, Anton understood something I had learned much earlier.

He had always assumed I would be his bride.

He had simply never bothered to become my groom.

And by the time he finally looked toward me, I was already gone.