Chapter 4Take My Bride She Is Yours

Standing in the center of the living room, every shared object felt like an insult.

I grabbed a stack of heavy-duty contractor bags and began tearing down the life we had built. The matching linen robes, the ceramic mugs we had thrown together at a pottery class, the framed photographs from our trips to Maine—all of it went into the trash.

When I was finished, the things that truly belonged to me barely filled two duffel bags.

I sat on the stripped sofa and checked my phone. Caleb had created a three-person group chat with his parents and Elena, flooding it with photos of their road trip. The latest post on his public feed was a smiling family portrait: Caleb’s parents beaming in the center, flanked by Caleb and Elena.

"Caption: Brought the girlfriend home to meet the folks. They love her!"

I tapped the 'like' button.

Seconds later, Elena sent a private message:

"Babe, his parents insisted on that photo. I couldn't say no without making a scene. I'm picking up some local coffee beans you love on the way back, okay?"

I replied "Whatever" and turned off my phone.

A ninety-minute drive took them three full days. Elena finally returned at two in the morning on the eve of the wedding.

She walked in and immediately wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, resting her cheek against my back. "Eli, your friend is way more high-maintenance than you are. I am never doing that again."

She kissed the nape of my neck. "They say the bride and groom aren't supposed to see each other the night before the ceremony, but I missed you too much. I had to see you."

Her touch made my skin crawl. I pulled away smoothly, putting the kitchen island between us.

She didn't get angry. She just offered a tired, affectionate smile. "Are you still brooding over the fake girlfriend thing? He really needed the favor. He even wrote a beautiful toast for our ceremony tomorrow. I read it on the drive back—it’s incredible. I’ll recite it for you at the altar."

The floating comments flickered into view:

[I feel so bad for the female lead. She has to run back and baby the side character just to keep him from ruining tomorrow.]

[Tomorrow’s altar swap is going to be cinematic gold.]

[Can't wait to see the fiancé's face crumble.]

I looked at Elena and whispered, "Then I wish you a very happy wedding."

She caught only half the sentence, stepping closer. "What did you say?"

Before I could answer, the custom ringtone blared again. She answered immediately, and Caleb’s panicked voice spilled into the room.

"Elena... I drank too much at the lounge down the street. My head is spinning, I can't stand up... please come get me!"

Elena straightened instantly, all exhaustion vanishing behind raw alarm. "Stay right where you are. Don't move. I'm coming."

She hung up, her face filled with hurried guilt. "Eli, Caleb’s in trouble. Let me go help him out—consider it payment for the wedding toast. I’ll see you at the altar tomorrow, okay?"

She pressed a frantic kiss to my forehead and bolted out the door.

"You won't see me tomorrow," I thought, touching my cold forehead. "I'm not your groom."

The ring remained on the console table. She was so blinded by her urgency for Caleb that she hadn't noticed the bare walls, the empty closets, or my packed bags waiting by the back door.

She had missed her last chance to notice.

The next morning, the grand ballroom of the St. Regis was packed with high society.

Early that morning, Elena had sent one final text: "Eli, I'm finally marrying you."

The ceremony began.

Elena stood behind the towering carved doors in a custom Vera Wang gown with a five-yard train, waiting to walk toward the man she thought was waiting for her.

The doors parted. The room fell dead silent.

At the end of the aisle stood Caleb, wearing a midnight-blue tuxedo, pinned with the bespoke emerald brooch Elena had personally designed months ago.

She took three steps forward before the spotlight shifted, illuminating his face.

Elena froze. "Why are you here?"