I Was Planning Our Wedding When He Told Me He Had a Wife Chapter 01

I Was Planning Our Wedding When He Told Me He Had a Wife Chapter 01

Everything was set for the big day. As Jason Miller and I went over the guest list with the wedding invitations in hand, he said out of the blue, “There’s something.”

“Legally, I already have a wife.”

“As long as you don’t mind, we send the invites. The wedding goes ahead as planned.”

He lit a cigarette carelessly, offering a dismissive explanation. “My family shoved her at me years ago. Since I accepted her, I have to take responsibility.”

My mind went blank. It took me forever to find my voice. “Then what were these six years… supposed to be?”

“Me being an asshole.” He tapped off the ash. “Now, it’s your choice.”

The hand I had resting on my lower abdomen trembled slightly. Inside was the surprise I’d planned to tell him about today…

***

The unrehearsed truth hit me head-on, tightening my chest. “But for six years, you never mentioned it once…”

He’d played his part so well, I’d never suspected that behind that curtain of tender affection lay another entire life.

Jason exhaled a cloud of smoke. “What would mentioning it have changed?” He tugged at the corner of his mouth, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Yet it held a strange certainty. “Evelyn Jones, you and I don’t need those formalities.”

Don’t need formalities?

I looked down at the unsent invitation in my hand.

So back then, when he was reluctant to have a big wedding, it wasn’t about being practical… It was because he was afraid his bigamy would be exposed to the world?

My stomach churned. I rushed into the bathroom and dry-heaved.

“You don’t need to overreact like this!” Jason followed me in, gently patting my back. “She’s just some girl my rural relatives pushed on me before I met you. No education, no desire to learn. She looked after my parents back home for a few years. I brought her here last year.”

“Just settled her somewhere in the city.” Jason paused. “See her once or twice a month, give her some living expenses.”

I turned to look at him. He stood there, tall and straight in his tailored suit. The man I’d loved for six years. But right now, the hint of indifference in his eyes and brow chilled me to the bone.

“So these six years, every time you said you were going home to visit your parents, you were actually…”

“Visiting her.” He finished my sentence calmly. “My parents are getting old, someone has to look after them. She does an okay job.”

Does an okay job.

I wanted to laugh, but my lips felt too heavy to lift.

Six years. Over two thousand days and nights. He’d had endless time, countless opportunities to deal with this situation.

To deal with her. Or to deal with me. Yet he’d chosen to stand in the middle, serenely enjoying the stability from both sides.

A faint, pulling pain came from my lower abdomen again. I instinctively pressed a hand there.

Jason’s gaze fell on my hand, and his brow furrowed slightly. “You look terrible.” He walked over, reaching a hand towards my forehead.

I jerked back, my spine hitting the cold tiles. “Don’t touch me.”

His hand froze mid-air. His phone rang at that moment. He glanced at the screen and declined it. It rang again. He declined again. When it rang a third time, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and answered.

Fragmented sobs came from the other end. “Jason… I won’t take the medicine… If you come see me, I’ll get better…”

Jason rubbed his temples. “Alright, I’ll send my assistant over.” He hung up and looked at me, his tone softening a little. “She’s never been well. Requires a lot of… attention.”

I didn’t speak, just looked at him. Over the past six years, this scene had played out countless times. His phone was always ringing off the hook. I was always the understanding one, saying, “You go ahead and deal with it.”

So among all those times he rushed off late at night, the holidays he missed… some of them were allotted to that other “wife.”

I laughed, tears rolling down. “Take me to see her.”

“Unnecessary.” His face darkened.

“Unnecessary?” I grabbed the guest list and hurled it to the floor. “Six years! All my youth, all my hopes were you! And now you’re giving me a choice? A choice about what? Whether or not to keep being the other woman?!”

He looked at the scattered papers. “No one is ‘the other woman.’ I’m the one who hid it from you. I’m the one who wants a future with you. You haven’t wronged anyone. Don’t feel guilty.”

Ha… An absurd chill washed over me. This spiel that even sounded vaguely “responsible” was utterly nauseating.

“Evelyn, what I feel for you is real.”

“And what about her?” I pressed.

He was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “Just responsibility.”

Responsibility.

Two words, feather-light. Yet they crushed six years of my belief.

My phone vibrated this time.

The speakerphone voice was piercingly clear in the deathly quiet room, “Sweetie, Mom’s sent out all the invitations! All the relatives say Jason is so capable, say how lucky you are!”