My Fiance Married His Childhood Sweetheart Before Our Engagement Party Chapter 01

My Fiance Married His Childhood Sweetheart Before Our Engagement Party Chapter 01

“You still have the nerve to say home?”

My mother’s voice came through the receiver.

It was so hoarse I almost didn’t recognize it.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Your father had bypass surgery last month,” she said. “He spent twenty days in the ICU.”

My mind went blank.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Tell you?” My mother laughed once, dry and bitter. “You were the one who said you were marrying a Wentworth no matter what. You were the one who said you were done with us.”

“Mom, I…”

“Don’t call me that. You haven’t called me Mom in three years. Don’t start now.”

The line went dead.

I called back.

Her phone was off.

I crouched outside the Hilton ballroom and stared at the gossip post.

The comments had already passed ten thousand.

Someone had screenshotted the photo I posted three hours earlier.

It showed me in my rented dress, captioned, [Today, I finally waited for you.]

The top reply had more likes than the post itself.

[Too bad he wasn’t waiting for her.]

The ballroom manager came after me with the final bill in his hand.

“Miss Hart, the remaining balance is five thousand dollars. If it’s not settled today, we’ll have to add a late fee.”

“Can I transfer it?”

“Yes.”

I opened my banking app.

Balance: $5,200.

Three years of savings.

After the transfer went through, the balance became $200.

The manager looked at me.

He seemed like he wanted to say something comforting.

In the end, he just took the payment confirmation and walked away.

At the bridal rental shop, the clerk lowered her head as she took the gown.

“Miss Hart, it didn’t get stained, right?”

“No.”

“We’ll refund your deposit.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I took a rideshare back to the apartment.

The smart lock lit up.

I pressed my finger against the sensor.

[Fingerprint not recognized.]

I tried three times.

Same result.

I texted Adrian.

[The door won’t open.]

Read.

Eight minutes later, he sent back a six-digit code.

No words.

I entered the code and opened the door.

The first thing I saw was a pair of pink fuzzy slippers in the entryway.

Not my size.

On the shoe cabinet sat a bouquet of baby’s breath.

The card read, [Sophia, welcome home.]

Signed, Adrian.

I had lived there for three years.

He had never bought me flowers, not even on the day I moved in.

There was a pink mug on the coffee table.

It had Sophia’s name printed on it.

A lavender cardigan lay across the couch.

Not mine.

The sheets in the bedroom had been changed to purple satin.

The plain cotton set I had bought was shoved to the bottom of the closet.

My clothes had been pushed into one corner.

The rest of the space held several new dresses, tags still attached.

The cheapest one was five hundred dollars.

I hadn’t bought myself anything over fifty dollars in three years.

A sticky note was taped to the back of the bedroom door.

It was Adrian’s handwriting.

[Eve, sleep in the guest room for a few days. Sophia just moved in and isn’t used to the place yet. Give her some time.]

I stared at the words.

Then I slowly peeled the note off.

My phone rang.

This time, Adrian picked up when I called.

The background was noisy, like a restaurant.

“Eve, now isn’t a good time.”

“You married Sophia?”

There was silence for two seconds.

“I’ll explain later.”

“Why was my fingerprint deleted?”

“Sophia asked me to reset the lock. I’ll add yours back tomorrow.”

His tone was so flat.

As if we were talking about the weather.

“Two hundred people watched me wait for you for three hours. You couldn’t make one call?”

“Don’t get worked up. It’s not what you think.”

A soft voice suddenly came from the background.

“Adrian, the soup’s getting cold. Come back.”

His voice dropped.

“I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

Later.

Again.

For three years, every promise he made had been later.