Chapter 1Tears for Content

My fiancé’s prank videos had finally pushed him past the hundred-thousand-follower mark.

On our wedding day, Ethan promised he had prepared three surprises for me.

By late morning, the guests had all arrived, but he was nowhere to be found. When I finally reached him on my cell phone, his tone was casual, almost incredulous.

"Didn't we push it to tomorrow? Did you forget to tell everyone?"

Standing there in my white wedding dress, I had to walk from table to table, apologizing to empty chairs while hot tears burned the backs of my eyelids.

That was when Ethan kicked open the double doors, holding his phone high, a ring light strapped to his chest.

"How’s that for the first surprise? Did I get you?"

I blinked back the tears, turning on my heel to retreat to the dressing room for a touch-up.

My phone buzzed against the vanity. A text from Ethan, featuring a snapshot of him and my younger sister, Zoe, tangled together on the couch.

Sorry. The truth is, she’s the one I actually want to marry.

I hiked up the layers of tulle and bolted out of the room. Ethan was waiting in the corridor, the camera rolling, his lens tracking my every desperate step.

Zoe stepped out from behind a pillar, pointing at me and laughing so hard she had to cover her mouth.

"You actually believed it, Sarah? God, you're so easy! That’s the groom’s second surprise!"

I reached out, my palm flat against the glass of the lens. "Stop it. This isn't funny."

Ethan reached out and batted my hand away, his grin wide and triumphant. "All right, cut. Let’s do one more take."

My mother’s face darkened instantly as she stepped out of the shadows. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the canned laughter of the imaginary crew.

"This has gone too far, Ethan. You don't humiliate people like this." She turned to me, her jaw set. "We’re leaving. We're going home."

Having held my composure all morning, the simple permission in her voice broke me. I threw my arms around her neck and finally let the sobs tear out of my throat.

"Mom, I can't do this. I don't want to marry him anymore."

She patted my back, her rhythmic strokes steadying me—until she suddenly stiffened, looking past my shoulder.

"Did you catch the audio?" she asked.

I froze.

Mom pulled back, smoothing the lace of my veil with cool, practiced fingers. "There you go. Now, Mother played along with their little three-surprise bit. Let’s get the wedding started, shall we?"

Ethan bounded over, his arm slinging over her shoulder. "Sarah, your mom is brilliant. She knows exactly how to make you waterworks."

I reached up, unpinned the heavy veil from my hair, and dropped it straight into his chest.

"I wasn't joking earlier. I'm done."

Ethan laughed, his eyes darting around the empty banquet hall as if looking for the hidden angles. "Oh, what, are you pranking me now?"

Zoe drifted over, her smile bright and vicious. "That look in your eyes, though—total runaway bride. Sister, who knew you were the actress in the family?"

Ethan scanned the room, chuckling softly. "Alright, we got the footage. This one's going to hit a million views by tonight."

To prepare for this day, I’d sat in the makeup chair at four in the morning, terrified that I wouldn't look pretty enough for him. But in his eyes, my tears weren't heartbreak—they were just content.

I turned my back on them, walking toward the ceremonial stage where an empty floral arch waited. I picked up the cordless microphone from the podium.

"I’m sorry, everyone. Today’s wedding is canceled."

I gave the room a deep, formal bow.

When I straightened up, the cavernous hall had gone completely still. Dozens of faces turned toward me from the tables—neighbors and old family friends who had watched Ethan and me grow up together. Every time they saw me over the years, they’d ask with warm grins when they’d finally get to drink our wedding wine.

Now, I had brought them all into the same room just to tell them there was no wedding at all.

My fingers tightened around the metal cylinder of the mic, my mouth opening to offer some kind of explanation, when my uncle near the back suddenly began to clap.

"Yes! That’s my girl! Good for you!"

I stared at him, my eyes stinging.

At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, he had slammed his palm against the dining table, declaring within earshot of every relative that women my age had no business being picky—they just needed to settle down and take what they could get. Yet here he was, cheering for my independence.

A second later, he waved a hand toward Ethan, grinning broadly.

"You little punk. A fake wedding, and you had us all fooled. Ethan, your view count is going through the roof today—you owe your uncle a cut."

The words caught in my throat, choking me.

A fake wedding?

One by one, the tables around him began to applaud, turning to offer Ethan thumbs-ups and congratulations.

Before I could process the shift in gravity, my aunt called out from the second row, her voice bright and easy.

"Sarah, come on down and get some food. When you were crying and bowing to me just now, I almost broke character and told you it wasn't even real."

Only twenty minutes ago, she had glared at me across the aisle, asking how I could possibly mess up a date this important. I had apologized profusely for making her waste a Saturday, and she had just sighed and shaken her head.

"So… none of this is real?" I whispered into the mic.

My aunt nodded, turning back to her table to pick up her chopsticks.

I stood alone under the stage lights, my chest hollowing out.

A sharp memory snagged in my mind—a grade-school awards ceremony. Zoe had shoved me hard from behind just as the principal called out a name.

"Sarah, that's you! They've called you three times!"

I’d scrambled up the steps, my hand outstretched for the certificate, only for the principal to gently push my arm down. Not you, dear. Wrong last name.

The auditorium had laughed, and Zoe’s laugh had been the loudest. I’d stood there on that stage, my hands dangling uselessly by my sides, not knowing where to put them.

It was Ethan who had walked up the steps then. He’d taken my hand, his palm dry and warm.

You just misheard, big deal. What’s so funny?

He’d led me down the stairs, using his own body to shield me from their eyes.

Standing on the stage now, I looked for that Ethan.

He was huddled with Zoe by the corner of the head table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating their faces as they replayed the clip of me apologizing through my tears. Zoe whispered something, and Ethan laughed.

I had spent years trying to marry the boy who led me off that stage. But he had been gone for a long time.