519 Invitations Had Her Name, I Cancelled The Wedding Chapter 09

The clerk had just called our number when the sound of suitcase wheels hitting the steps came from outside.

Madison rushed in.

After a month, her hair was shorter. She was holding a sample invitation.

She grabbed Nathan.

“You’re really going to divorce her?”

Nathan pulled away.

“It’s none of your business.”

Madison looked at the documents in my hand and suddenly laughed.

“Good.”

“If she doesn’t want you, then look at me.”

Nathan looked as if he didn’t understand.

“What did you say?”

“I said I like you.”

Madison’s voice trembled, but she spoke faster and faster.

“I grew up with you. I cut class with you. I built the business with you.”

“Every girlfriend you had was afraid of me. Only Evelyn wouldn’t leave.”

“So of course I had to push further every time.”

She threw the invitation against his chest.

“Those 519 invitations weren’t an accident.”

“I did it on purpose.”

Nathan’s face went white.

Madison stared at me, her eyes full of resentment.

“I wanted her to know.”

“Even at her own wedding, I could write my name in.”

“Even if the whole world saw it, you would only tell me not to make a scene. You would never really blame

me.”

Nathan’s voice turned cold.

“The ink at the old shop. Was that on purpose too?”

Madison didn’t answer immediately.

The silence said enough.

Nathan raised his hand and threw the invitation back at her.

“Madison Brooks, you disgust me.”

Her eyes reddened, but she laughed harder.

“I disgust you?”

“Nathan, weren’t you the one who gave me the courage every time?”

“I changed the invitations, and you said we didn’t need to reprint them.”

“I ruined her father’s letters, and you made her apologize to me.”

“I asked you to take me to the island, and you really left her at home alone.”

“You enjoyed me being more important than your fiancée.”

“Now that she doesn’t want you, you suddenly blame me for having no boundaries?”

Nathan stood frozen.

His face turned gray, bit by bit.

Madison was right.

She had malice in her heart, but that didn’t make him innocent.

Every time she crossed a line, he had personally cleared the path.

I didn’t listen anymore. I turned and walked to the window.

Nathan followed soon after.

This time, he didn’t stop me.

When he signed, he held the pen for a long time.

The clerk reminded him a second time before he slowly wrote his name.

When the divorce decree was handed to me, he asked quietly, “Evelyn, can we still see each other?”

“There’s no need.”

“What about your father’s shop?”

I put the document in my bag.

“I’ll open it myself.”

“I don’t need your compensation.”

I walked out of the county clerk’s office.

Outside, Madison was still crying.

Nathan didn’t chase her, and he didn’t chase me.

Three years later, my Historic Marriage Certificate Restoration Exhibition opened in Calder Bay.

At the entrance of the gallery was the line my father had written: [To my daughter on her wedding day.]

Beside it was the carved stone keepsake, repaired with gold-filled cracks.

Someone at the exhibition mentioned Nathan.

They said he hadn’t married all these years, and he had completely cut Madison off.

The lakeside house had stayed empty.

In the study were 520 reprinted invitations.

Every bride’s line held my name.

They said Nathan sat in the study every night, holding the first mistaken invitation and staring at it for a

long time.

Once, drunk, he sent himself a voice message.

[Reprint.]

Reprint them all.]

[The bride’s line on Evelyn Harper’s invitation can only say Evelyn Harper.]

But no matter how many times he reprinted them in his dreams, he couldn’t go back three years.

I listened and only nodded slightly.

There was no satisfaction of revenge in my heart, and no old love stirring.

The glass door of the gallery was pushed open.

Someone walked in holding a bouquet of white lisianthus and gently adjusted the shawl on my shoulders.

“The opening remarks are about to start.”

“Are you nervous?”

I shook my head.

“No.”

He smiled and handed me a newly made invitation.

The cover was plain white cotton paper.

Inside was a single line.

[Ms. Evelyn Harper, may you always be free, may you always have a home, and may you never need anyone

to save you.]

My fingers brushed lightly over the words, and I suddenly smiled

Three years ago, 519 of those 520 invitations had the wrong bride.

Three years later, I had finally received an invitation addressed only to me.

This time, no one had given my place away to someone else.

And no one was using love to force me to swallow my hurt.

I closed the invitation and took his hand.

“Let’s go.”

My life was only just beginning.