She Wore My Wedding Dress Before I Ever Did Chapter 01

She Wore My Wedding Dress Before I Ever Did Chapter 01

When I listed my custom wedding gown at a steep discount, the buyer asked why I was getting rid of it when the tags were still attached.

I stared at the layers of snow-white tulle and gave a faint smile.

“Because another woman wore it and posted the pictures on Instagram.”

The bridal salon had called yesterday to tell me my gown was ready for pickup. I went over despite running a low-grade fever, only to hear a familiar laugh outside the fitting room.

Miles Caldwell was down on one knee, adjusting the hem of Vanessa Reed’s skirt.

My name and wedding date were embroidered inside that gown. It was the centerpiece of my bridal look, and I had worked overtime for three months just to pay off the remaining balance.

Vanessa lifted the skirt and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

“Rachel, don’t blame Miles. I begged him to let me try it on.”

Miles stood, but his first instinct was to step in front of her.

“Vanessa just went through a breakup. She’s having a hard time. It’s only a dress, so don’t embarrass her in front of everyone.”

My phone suddenly buzzed.

A mutual friend had commented under Vanessa’s Instagram post.

[I nearly had a heart attack. I thought you and Miles were getting married.]

Vanessa did not correct her. She only replied with a blushing emoji.

As I stared at the comment, I suddenly stopped wanting any of it.

I no longer wanted the gown, and I no longer wanted the wedding.

Right there in front of the sales associate, I paid the remaining balance and listed the gown on Poshmark.

I had played the lead in this one-woman show called a wedding long enough.

***

The lights inside the bridal salon were painfully bright.

I stood in the fitting-room doorway, my forehead burning with fever, but I still recognized the sweep of the skirt at a glance.

The waist had been altered three times to get that curve exactly right.

I had personally chosen the warm ivory pearls.

Even the small line embroidered into the lining had been approved by me.

[Rachel Morgan & Miles Caldwell — June 16]

Now Vanessa was wearing it.

Miles was kneeling in front of her, holding the skirt between his fingers as he reminded her softly, “Don’t move around too much. Your back still hasn’t healed.”

His voice was so gentle that I suddenly remembered the message I had sent him that morning. I had told him I had a fever and asked whether he could pick me up.

His reply had been simple.

Miles: [Busy today. We’ll talk later.]

Apparently, later meant helping another woman try on my wedding gown.

The sales associate spotted me first, and the color immediately drained from her face.

“Ms. Morgan…”

Only then did Miles turn around.

He was still clutching my veil, and panic flashed across his face.

“Rachel, why are you here so early?”

I braced one hand against the doorframe. My throat was so dry that it hurt.

“Am I not allowed to be here?”

Vanessa immediately reached for the zipper at the back of the gown, her eyes filling with tears.

“Rachel, don’t get the wrong idea. This is my fault.”

“I saw how beautiful the gown was and wanted to try it on. Miles said no at first, but I insisted—”

Miles cut her off with a frown.

“Don’t rush. Keep your balance.”

Then he turned to me and lowered his voice.

“Vanessa’s been in a really bad place these past few days. Don’t embarrass her in front of everyone.”

I stared at him.

I had not even said a word, yet he had already decided what I was guilty of.

I walked over and brushed my fingertips across the skirt.

A trace of cloyingly sweet perfume clung to the fabric. It was not mine.

The sales associate explained awkwardly, “Ms. Morgan, Mr. Caldwell came with you before, so we assumed he was authorized to approve the final fitting on your behalf.”

“He also told us you were too sick to come and that he wanted to see how the finished gown looked, so we agreed.”

I raised my eyes.

“He told you that?”

Miles avoided my gaze.

“I just thought seeing it on her would give us an idea of how it looked.”

So that was what she was—a model for my wedding gown.

It was my dress and my wedding, yet another woman had worn it before I had even tried on the finished version.

Vanessa said quietly, “Rachel, I’m really sorry. I can take it off right now.”

She started toward the fitting room but stumbled.

Ever since the accident at the company gala three years ago, Miles had felt indebted to her.

He immediately reached out and steadied her.

“Careful.”

The movement came so naturally to him that it looked as if he had practiced it a thousand times.

My phone buzzed again.

I looked down and saw a screenshot from a mutual friend.

Vanessa had just posted on Instagram.

The photo showed only part of her waist and the veil, accompanied by a caption.

[So this is what it feels like to wear a wedding gown. I never want to wake up.]

Comments had already begun appearing beneath it.

[Vanessa, are you and Miles getting married?]

[I thought you were the bride.]

[You two look perfect together.]

Vanessa replied, [Don’t read too much into it. Someone might get upset.]

I held the screenshot out in front of Miles.

His expression darkened, but his first reaction was not to apologize.

“Rachel, who sent you that screenshot? Everyone was only joking.”

“Do you think it’s funny?”

The question stopped him cold.

Tears spilled from Vanessa’s eyes.

“I’ll delete it right now. I honestly didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m just so jealous that you have a wedding, that you have Miles, and that you have a home of your own.”

She cried quietly.

Miles immediately knitted his brows.

“Rachel, she already apologized.”

I suddenly laughed.

“She wore my wedding gown and posted pictures that made everyone think she was marrying you, and somehow I’m the one making a scene?”

Miles’s lips moved.

“That’s not what I meant.”

But it was written all over his face.

He thought I should be understanding. He expected me to swallow my anger and let it go.

The sales associate asked cautiously, “Ms. Morgan, would you still like to try on the final gown today?”

“No.”

Miles exhaled in relief, apparently believing I had finally decided to stop causing trouble.

“Let’s go home. You look terrible.”

I took out my credit card.

“I’m paying the remaining balance, and I’m taking the gown with me.”

He stared at me.

“Has the fever gone to your head? We have our pre-wedding portrait session the day after tomorrow.”

I did not answer.

When the payment confirmation chimed, something inside me suddenly felt hollow.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t bear to let go.

It was the last of my hope draining away.

That night, I spread the wedding gown across the bed and took pictures.

The title of my Poshmark listing was simple.

[Brand-new custom wedding gown. Tried on once. Priced to sell.]

A buyer messaged me almost immediately.

Buyer: [It’s gorgeous. Why don’t you want it?]

I stared at the message window for a long time.

Me: [It isn’t right for me.]

Then I canceled our pre-wedding portrait session and my bridal hair-and-makeup trial.

Miles opened the door and walked in.

He was carrying fever medicine and a hot chai latte.

“Still mad?”

He set both items on the coffee table, sat beside me, and reached out to touch my forehead.

I turned my head away.

His hand froze in midair.

“Rachel, Vanessa already deleted the Instagram post.”

“She just went through a breakup, and she still has back problems from the accident. I only wanted to cheer her up.”

I looked at him.

“Did you know I had a fever today?”

Miles went still.

He had probably only just remembered the message I had sent that morning.

He had not always been like this.

When we first started dating, he remembered that I could not stand onions. He picked me up from work and even remembered when my period was due every month.

After Vanessa’s accident, it was as though his memory had been reassigned. Everything about me was gradually pushed aside to make room for her.

After several seconds of silence, he lowered his voice.

“I bought you medicine, didn’t I?”

I looked at the chai latte.

“I don’t drink chai lattes when I have a fever.”

The color drained from his face.

He used to know that.

Now all he remembered was that Vanessa could not stand for too long, could not be exposed to cold air, and could not get worked up.

His phone lit up.

A voice message from Vanessa appeared on the screen.

He tapped it without thinking.

“Miles, my back is starting to hurt. Was I on my feet too long just now? Don’t tell Rachel. She seemed really upset.”

Miles hurriedly cut off the message.

Silence filled the apartment for several seconds.

I looked down and cut another five hundred dollars off the listing price.

Miles finally noticed the page on my screen.

“You’re selling the wedding gown?”

“Yes.”

“Rachel, stop being ridiculous.”

I looked up at him.

“Miles, I’m not being ridiculous.”

“This dress is ruined for me.”