He Made My Wedding Dress Half a Size Too Small, Then Begged Chapter 01

He Made My Wedding Dress Half a Size Too Small, Then Begged Chapter 01

Day ninety of my pre-wedding diet, and I passed out from low blood sugar again.

Liam Sterling had to choose between taking me to the hospital or going to his custom bridal boutique for the gown fitting. He chose the shop.

When I came to, all he said was, “Twenty-four hours, not a drop of water. This time, you’ll definitely squeeze into that gown.”

But the back zipper still got stuck.

One week before our wedding, the gown he’d designed for me was still half a size too small.

The first time it got stuck at my hips. The second time at my bust. This time, it got stuck at my lower back.

I told him to add two inches of fabric and re-cut it, or else I’d switch to a different dress.

That’s when my best friend Victoria stepped in, slipped the gown on without any effort, and smiled. “The silhouette only looks good when it’s fitted. You can’t compromise the design.”

Liam’s eyes lit up with approval. “This cut was based on Victoria’s measurements—she’s an international supermodel, and this is my masterpiece.”

“You’re just heavier. Wear a waist trainer and tuck the extra weight in.”

Before I could answer, the staff immediately went to work, cinching the corset-style shapewear tighter and tighter against my ribs, inch by inch.

As I stood there, suffocating and humiliated, it finally clicked.

From the very beginning, this dress was never meant for me. It had always been Victoria’s.

If that was the case, then I didn’t want this half-size-too-small gown anymore.

And I didn’t want to be this bride either.

—

Even with the shapewear on, I could barely get the dress over my body.

Unlike Victoria, who looked flawless in it, I could hardly breathe, let alone walk down the aisle in that skirt.

Behind the fitting curtain, the staff whispered among themselves.

“Emma can’t hold a candle to Victoria even with the corset on.”

“Of course not—the dress was custom-made for her to begin with. A figure like that was born for bridal couture.”

“If you ask me, the real Mrs. Sterling should be Victoria.”

I dug my nails into my palms, walked straight to the fitting room, stripped off the waist trainer, and tossed both it and the gown back onto the counter.

“Liam. Either fix the size or cancel the wedding. I’m not doing this.”

His brows shot up in disbelief. “Cancel the wedding? Emma, if the dress doesn’t fit, maybe you should look at yourself first.”

“As a designer, I have the right to base my cut on the model it suits best. Adding even a centimeter ruins the whole aesthetic.”

His voice went cold. “You should be asking yourself why you don’t have a figure like Victoria’s, instead of threatening me with the wedding.”

Back when we first started dating, if the waistline on one of my dresses was even slightly tight, Liam would take it back and work on it all night long.

But now, on the most important gown of our entire lives, he was telling me to compromise and reflect.

The boutique went dead silent.

I stared at the man in front of me and felt like I didn’t recognize him anymore.

Liam was hailed as a genius designer; people waited years for a spot on his booking calendar.

But he’d turned down countless commissions to put our wedding dress first.

And yet, this dress—the one he claimed was for me—wouldn’t even zip up.

When I didn’t respond, he rubbed his brow and softened his tone slightly.

“Just do it for me. Skip a couple of meals. You can get through one day—just one day, and then it’s over.”

“There’s not even enough time to alter it!”

I let out a bitter laugh at the dismissal in his words.

One wedding. One day. And he wanted me to settle.

I’d told him the measurements were wrong way earlier.

Back then, Liam had said, with that smug pride of his, “I could write your measurements blindfolded. On the big day, I’ll make you the most beautiful bride.”

But now, even eating only grilled chicken breast and asparagus every day, the dress was still half a size off.

It wasn’t until today, when Victoria slipped it on without breaking a sweat, that I finally understood.

The real model had been her all along.

The dress had never been mine to begin with.

Underneath all the heartbreak, a quiet clarity settled over me.

“Liam. I waited three years for a dress that I have to starve and squeeze myself into. Did you design this for me, or for Victoria?”

His expression soured in an instant. “Why are you dragging innocent people into this?”

“Victoria needed a showstopper for a gala, so I sized the gown to her figure. It’s only half a size. Can you stop making such a big deal out of it?”

I found it bitterly ironic. He made the wrong size, and I was the one being dramatic.

Before I could answer, a tailor came in carrying a bridesmaid dress.

“Mr. Sterling, the bridesmaid gown is ready.”

One of the staff members asked casually, “Everything fits right?”

The tailor waved a hand dismissively. “How could it not? Mr. Sterling personally drafted the pattern.”

“And besides—Miss Blake’s outfits? He checks them a dozen times over. If something’s off by even a centimeter, he tears it apart and redoes it from scratch. Rest assured, every inch is perfect.”

His offhand remark cut through me sharper than any blade.

Liam had personally drafted Victoria’s bridesmaid dress and triple-checked every measurement.

But my wedding gown didn’t fit, and he told me to lose weight to accommodate it.

Liam didn’t even glance my way. He took the dress from the tailor and handed it to Victoria.

“Try it on. Let me know if there’s anything that needs tweaking.”

I didn’t stay to hear what they said after that. I turned around and walked out.