I Cancelled The Wedding While He Paid For Her Dream Dress Chapter 02

I Cancelled The Wedding While He Paid For Her Dream Dress Chapter 02

I transferred the money back while I was waiting for my Uber and muted Callum’s number.

A text came through almost instantly. [Enough, Maren. I’m trying to make this easy for you. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.]

I scoffed under my breath and put my phone away.

That night, I went back to the house—the one we were supposed to move into after we got married—and started packing.

Cardboard boxes lined the corner. I tossed my rescue center ID into one of them.

Last week, I’d handed in my resignation at the center. Callum’s mother had made it clear. A Harcourt wife didn’t spend her days wrangling strays. It was beneath the family.

What a joke that felt like now.

I was digging through a drawer for packing tape when Callum’s face lit up my screen. FaceTime.

I picked up. Behind him were the warm lights and stacked shelves of some high-end pet boutique.

Brielle was next to him, cradling a Ragdoll. Callum had a bag of imported cat food in one hand and a frown between his brows. “Why’d you send the money back?”

I ripped off a strip of tape. “I don’t need it.”

His voice went flat. “You don’t need it? Your clinic salary is gonna cover $4,000 in cancellation fees? Stop punishing yourself to prove a point.”

Brielle leaned into the frame, her eyes glistening right on cue. “Maren, is this about me trying on the dress? Are you upset with Callum because of that?”

I looked at the cat in her arms. “Its ears have discharge. Maybe get that checked by a professional instead of just taking pictures with it.”

Brielle’s face froze. Callum shifted the phone away from her. “Can you not talk to people like they’re stray animals at your clinic?”

My grip tightened on the tape. I didn’t move.

He used to love watching me work with the animals. He’d told me once that when I leaned in close to bandage a wound, something about me would just light up.

Brielle bit her lip. “This is my fault. I just… my health hasn’t been good, and wearing a wedding dress was this silly dream of mine. I’ll delete the photos. Right now.”

Callum pulled her closer, his voice going soft. “Don’t delete anything. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Then he turned back to me, and the warmth was gone. “See? That’s what class looks like, Maren. She’s trying to fix things and you’re still picking fights. It’s exhausting.”

I sealed the box shut. “You two deserve each other.”

That didn’t land the way I meant it. He was quiet for a beat, then laughed. “Sure. Keep making a scene. I’ll have my assistant reprint the invitations tomorrow.”

I hung up. The Harcourt family group chat was already lighting up.

Callum’s mother had posted a photo dump. [Finally met Miss Langford, the woman my son never stops talking about. Poised, gracious, and absolutely lovely. I can see why everyone adores her.]

It was a private Harcourt family brunch. Brielle was seated right next to Callum’s mother, and Callum was leaning over to set a shrimp canapé on Brielle’s plate.

Then a private message from her. [Maren, Brielle’s been away for so long. We’re just making her feel at home. Don’t overthink it. A woman marrying into this family should know how to carry herself with grace.]

I typed back. [Mrs. Harcourt, Callum and I are done. The wedding is off.]

She called within seconds, her voice pitched high. “Are you out of your mind? My son chose you. He made a commitment to you. That alone should tell you how much he values you.”

I set the phone on the table and went back to taping boxes.

She wrestled her voice back under control. “Brielle was his first love. Every man has the one that got away. You can’t compete with a memory, Maren. The harder you try to control this, the faster you’ll lose him.”

“Then let him go.”

Dead silence. Then a low, sharp laugh. “Think very carefully, Maren. Your family has leveraged our name for a lot of social capital. Gifts, introductions, investments. If this goes public, it won’t be the Harcourt name that takes the hit.”

I hung up and swept everything Callum had ever given me—the stuffed animals, the matching mugs, the photo albums—into a trash bag.

At the bottom of the closet, I found a half-finished gray sweater.

I’d been knitting it for Callum. His hands always ran cold in the winter, and I thought if I made it myself, he’d actually wear it.

I pulled the yarn loose. It piled around my feet in soft gray coils. Three years of compromises, coming undone in seconds.

The TaskRabbit guy I hired for junk removal came soon after. The guy hoisted the bag and glanced at me. “You sure about all this?”

I nodded. “It’s all yours.”

The house emptied out room by room until the only thing left was a set of keys on the hook by the door.

Two sharp knocks.

The door swung open before I could reach it. Callum stood there, two pink suitcases beside him.