Chapter 3He Gave My Wedding Dress to His First Love

The ceremony was finally over.

The door to the bridal suite opened, and Jason stood there, rubbing his temples. He looked just as drained as I felt.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his voice heavy. “I’ll also explain everything to our parents. I’ll go to their house myself—”

I cut him off. “No need. They’re my parents, not yours.”

This had nothing to do with him anymore, so why should he bother?

Jason looked stunned for a moment, then sighed, his exhaustion showing on his face. “Can you stop being so stubborn? You know Rebecca has been through so much with her illness. What’s the big deal about giving her this one thing?”

Even now, he still didn’t think he was wrong. He still defended her.

For a moment, I couldn’t even find the words to respond.

“Fine,” I finally said, my voice calm but resolute. “Call it stubborn if you want. I’ll pack my things and move out tonight. As for the house, I’ll have someone put it on the market. If you don’t want to sell, just transfer the money my family contributed to my account.”

I didn’t wait for his reply. I spotted my parents standing nearby, surrounded by relatives, and walked toward them, leaving Jason with a curt, “That’s it.”

When I reached my parents, I overheard one of the relatives whispering, “So, she got dumped at her own wedding, huh?”

My second aunt chimed in, shaking her head in disapproval. “Girls like her are too headstrong. That’s why this happened. Imagine the shame—getting replaced on her wedding day.”

I felt a sharp pang in my chest as I saw the embarrassment on my parents’ faces. Ignoring the fact that she was my elder, I stepped forward and snapped back.

“Are you my aunt or Jason’s?” I asked, my tone cold.

“It was his decision to replace the bride, not mine. That’s on him—his lack of responsibility, his inability to respect me, and his failure to communicate. This has nothing to do with me being ‘too headstrong.’ If I’d known even one day earlier, he wouldn’t have been the groom today.”

My aunt’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she muttered something under her breath before scurrying away.

My mom reached for my hand, her worry clear in her eyes.

I gave her a small smile and said softly, “It’s okay, Mom. If the wedding’s off, so be it. I don’t need it anyway.”

After making sure my parents got into their car safely, I headed to the house Jason and I had prepared as our marital home to pack my things.

I was composed, logical, and determined to get everything over with.

But emotions don’t always follow reason.

Before I even started packing, tears began streaming down my face, completely out of my control.

This house was full of memories of Jason.

The small ceramic pot he bought me when he found out I had bad cramps, promising to make me herbal soup every week.

The walk-in closet he designed for me after seeing a video I’d liked of a “shoe ferris wheel” for high heels. I had laughed at the colorful LED lights he installed, joking that it looked too over the top. He had just pulled me into his arms and asked for a kiss as a reward.

We met in college, then spent a year in a long-distance relationship when work pulled us apart. Jason had chased me relentlessly back then, going out of his way to win me over.

He once told me he fell for me after watching me hold my own in a debate competition, saying I was “like a force of nature.”

Back then, I was a shining light in his eyes.

And now, that same light had become too much for him—he called me “too strong,” as if it was a flaw.

I packed in silence, pulling myself out of the memories piece by piece. By the time I had finished, all that remained of our seven years together was a single cardboard box, barely reaching my waist.

I stared at the box, wondering how I would haul it out and where I would even put it.

That’s when the door burst open, and Stephanie stormed in, her fiery energy filling the room.

The moment I saw her, all the strength I had been clinging to crumbled, and my nose started to sting as fresh tears welled up.

Stephanie pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me like she was trying to hold me together.

“I knew I should’ve been your maid of honor,” she said fiercely. “If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have had to face this alone.”

Stephanie had never liked Jason. She hated his indecisiveness, his inability to let go of Rebecca, and she had refused to attend the wedding because of him.

She’d even warned me before: ”If you marry him, you’ll regret it.”

She hadn’t minced words either: ”Rebecca being alive is bad enough, but if she dies, you’ll never win against a ghost.”

Her words had caused a huge fight between us. We stopped talking for months.

But now, looking back, I realized she’d been right all along.

I was so grateful she came back.

Stephanie had purposely scheduled a work trip to avoid my wedding, but as soon as she heard what had happened, she dropped everything and rushed to find me. She even took time off to stay with me, refusing to let me wallow alone.

With her around, the days didn’t seem so unbearable.

A week later, she was already trying to set me up with new people when Jason showed up at my door.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

A scumbag coming back to grovel? Well, I wasn’t about to let him walk all over me again.