I Prepared Our Wedding, For His Another Bride Chapter 09

I Prepared Our Wedding, For His Another Bride Chapter 09

We’d driven a ways down the road when Cyrus switched his grip on the steering wheel. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself like he was working up the courage to say something difficult.

“I was completely wrong before. I took our eight years together for granted, convinced we had endless time to fix every mistake later.”

He pressed his lips together briefly. “I did look through all the wedding inspiration photos you sent me, even

if I never said a word about them at the time.”

He darted a quick glance over at me in the passenger seat. “Eight years of us shouldn’t just fall apart like

this.”

He paused again.

“I messed up everything with Bianca, that’s on me. I’ve cut all contact with her completely; she won’t ever

come between us again. So Elowen… can you find it in you to forgive me?”

His words felt nothing but noise buzzing in my ears. If I’d known this short ride home would come with such

mental torment, I would’ve never agreed to get in the car.

I tilted my head down to unlock my phone, and a notification popped up from the photography association.

My photo series Memories of Seattle had won the annual documentary award, and I was invited to an awards ceremony in Washington, D. C. at the end of the month.

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

Cyrus turned to look at me, easing his foot off the gas slightly.

His voice carried a tense, cautious lilt. “What are you looking at? Why won’t you answer me? Did you meet

someone new?”

“Nothing like that.”

His shoulders relaxed a fraction, yet his tone remained tight with anxiety. “Then what made you smile just

now?”

He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “Does that mean you agree with what I’ve been saying?”

I was about to reply when the car turned a corner. I glanced out the window and realized we weren’t heading

toward my apartment at all.

“This isn’t the way back to my place.”

Cyrus ignored my question, his fingers tapping once against the wheel.

We passed an intersection before he finally spoke. “I’m taking you somewhere. It’s the surprise I mentioned

earlier.”

My heart dropped uneasily. I sat tense and uncertain for the rest of the drive.

When the car rolled to a stop, I stared out the windshield.

It was a wedding venue, decorated identically to the one we’d seen in Seattle.

The lawn had been freshly mown, one sprinkler spinning slowly, sending fine mist drifting through the sunlight. The archway was woven full of fully bloomed white roses, not a single wilted bloom in sight.

I stood on the lawn and stared for a long time. Every single detail matched the wedding mood boards I’d saved and reworked countless times, the exact wedding I’d once dreamed of sharing with Cyrus.

Cyrus walked over from the trunk, clutching a velvet jewelry box in his palm. He stopped two steps in front of me and dropped to one knee.

He flipped the box open. Inside wasn’t our old matching couple band; a brand-new ring sat nestled within, set with a tiny square-cut diamond on its face.

“I never took your wedding plans seriously before. All the photos you saved, all the flower arrangements you rambled about that I brushed off-I’ve kept every single one stored away. Now I want to give you everything

you ever wanted.”

He lifted his gaze to my face, held my eyes for a beat, then dropped his head again.

“While you were gone, I thought about you every single day. I brushed off every little thing you cared about when you were here, and only after you left did I go back and look through all the things you left behind.”

“Give me one chance to start over, Elowen. Please.”

I stared down at the open box in his hands and didn’t reach for it.

This was the exact proposal scene I’d daydreamed about for eight years-but now I wanted nothing to do

with it.

I spoke softly. “You were fully capable of doing all this before. You just chose not to, didn’t you? Your heart belonged to Bianca back then. She’s young and pretty, and after eight years with me, you’d already grown

tired of me.”

Cyrus’s voice cracked with urgency. “No, that’s not how it was at all-”

I cut him off, continuing calmly. “Bianca told me everything. I know every detail between the two of you. There’s no point hiding the truth from me anymore; it’s undignified for both of us.”

I lifted my eyes to meet his panicked ones. “The only thing I truly can’t forgive you for is turning my

miscarriage into a joke and doubting my pain. When I needed you more than anything, you chose to stay with Bianca instead. All I got from you a week later was fake, performative tears. I’d actually believed those empty

tears once.”

Cyrus pressed his lips into a thin, rigid line. He stayed kneeling on one knee, his thumb pressing so hard against the box’s edge his skin turned pale.

He parted his lips, his voice so faint it nearly vanished on the wind. “I was wrong about everything that day.”

I let out a quiet, exhausted breath. “Cyrus, what’s over stays over.”