Chapter 1He Gave My Wedding Dress to His First Love

On our wedding day, Jason’s ex-girlfriend sent him her terminal diagnosis.

She said her only dying wish was to wear a wedding dress one last time.

To fulfill her request, Jason locked me in the bridal suite and prepared to marry her instead.

From behind the door, his irritated voice rang out:

“Can you stop being so heartless? She’s dying. What’s the harm in letting her have this moment?”

Later, the boy-next-door—who had been secretly in love with me for years—climbed up to the rooftop of the venue, threatening to jump unless I agreed to marry him.

Jason, his eyes red with desperation, fell to his knees and begged me:

“You’re really going to throw away seven years of our relationship for him?”

I brushed his hand away and replied coldly:

“What else should I do? Watch him die? It’s just signing some papers. Don’t be so heartless.”

One hour before the wedding was set to begin, I sat at the vanity, staring at my phone.

On the screen was a photo Jason’s ex-girlfriend had sent me.

She was wearing my wedding dress—the one I had painstakingly chosen—and had her arm wrapped around Jason’s. She was smiling radiantly, while Jason gazed down at her with a tenderness he’d never shown me.

Her accompanying text read:

“He said I look better in it than you ever could.”

Then another message followed:

“If you want your wedding to happen, you’ll have to beg me.”

I turned off my phone and looked at the makeup artist in the mirror. My voice was cold but steady.

“The wedding dress I ordered—is it really unwearable because of a fitting mistake?”

The makeup artist froze, avoiding my gaze.

This was the same boutique that had handled my dress, my makeup, and my photography. I had gone above and beyond to ensure every detail of my wedding was perfect, sparing no expense and holding countless meetings with their team.

Her silence told me everything I needed to know.

I thought back to when Jason accompanied me to my dress fittings—half the time, he was on his phone or laptop, handling “work.” Yet, when he was with her, the photos showed him laughing, his entire face lighting up.

I clenched my phone tightly in my hand and exhaled slowly.

“Can someone fetch Jason for me?” I said, my voice calm but firm.

The makeup artist’s assistant scurried off to find him.

I glanced at myself in the mirror. The bodice of the replacement dress felt suffocating, the fabric digging into my ribs.

Perhaps clothes that don’t fit should never be worn in the first place.

The first person to enter wasn’t Jason—it was the officiant. He looked nervous, guilt written all over his face.

“I’m sorry, Miss Carter,” he said hesitantly, “but… you don’t need to attend the ceremony anymore.”

“Don’t need to attend?” I asked, the absurdity of the statement almost making me laugh. “Are you telling me that I, the bride, am not needed at my own wedding?”

The officiant opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, Jason walked in.

“It was my decision,” Jason said, cutting him off.

He was wearing the white tuxedo I had chosen for him, but the bow tie wasn’t the one I had picked. My gaze lingered on it for a moment.

Jason noticed and awkwardly tugged at his collar, coughing lightly.

“Rebecca has surgery in a few days,” he began, his tone almost defensive. “The hospital issued a terminal notice. She said her only wish is to wear a wedding dress—just once.”

I let out a cold laugh. “And she wants to do it at our wedding?”

I knew Rebecca.

In the third year of my relationship with Jason, I found out about her: his childhood sweetheart, the girl-next-door, the ex-girlfriend who had lost all her hair from chemotherapy. Their families were close, and even after their breakup, their lives remained intertwined.

She had moved away for treatment, and her parents had asked Jason to look after her while she was in town.

At first, I respected her. I felt sympathy for a young woman whose life had been derailed by illness.

But then came the late-night calls, asking Jason to bring her soup after our dates. I had tolerated it, time and again, because she was sick.

Jason had always reassured me, prioritizing my feelings and only going to her when it was truly urgent. Sometimes, he even brought me along.

Until today.

When had he started trying on wedding dresses with her? When had he decided to give her my dress and let her take my place in our ceremony?