My Wedding Photos Belonged To His First Love Chapter 01

My Wedding Photos Belonged To His First Love Chapter 01

On the day of the wedding photoshoot, the photographer asked my husband Derek Sullivan to pick the retouched photos.

He flipped through them fast. So fast that when he passed the ones with me in them, he barely paused.

I smiled and asked, “Isn’t this one good?”

He said, “They all look about the same. You decide.”

Just as I was about to nod, the photographer’s assistant slipped and projected a hidden album onto the wedding screen.

It was full of photos of Lily.

She was wearing my wedding gown, standing at the shore, looking back with a smile.

In the corner of the photo was a note. [If Lily had chosen this path, this would have been the wedding I imagined.]

Everyone in the room froze.

Lily Morgan was right there on the sofa, a cup of hot tea in her hands, her face pale in just the right way.

She said softly, “Derek, I was only testing the lighting for you. I didn’t know they kept those.”

Derek walked over and draped a blanket over her shoulders.

Then he finally looked at me. “Don’t get the wrong idea. She’s not well, can’t be in the wind. The shoot was rushed, that’s all.”

I asked, “So my wedding gown—she wore it first?”

His tone went flat. “It’s just a dress. You’re already the bride. Why fight her over this?”

It hit me then that three months ago, I had stayed up night after night to build an entire visual concept for this wedding.

He said he didn’t understand that stuff and told me to handle everything. But the gown, the scenery, the bouquet, the sunset by the water—every detail was something he had imagined for Lily.

I had only been the one who turned someone else’s dream into reality.

Before we left, the photographer asked if we still needed to confirm the retouching list.

Derek said, “Do Lily’s set first. She rarely likes photos this much.”

I stood at the door and watched my photos being swiped past on the screen, one after another.

Like I was only a placeholder in someone else’s story.

The moment she returned, my place disappeared.

***

The wedding screen in the studio was still lit.

Lily was wearing my wedding gown, standing at the shore, the wind blowing her veil against Derek’s shoulder.

The note in the corner was painfully clear. [If Lily had chosen this path, this would have been the wedding I imagined.]

No one in the room spoke.

The photographer’s face had gone white. The assistant clutched the laptop, fingers frozen on the keyboard.

Lily was the first to react. She set down her hot tea and said, so softly, “Nora, I’m so sorry. I really was only testing the lighting for Derek. I wasn’t feeling well that day, and he was worried about the wind. He kept telling them to hurry.”

Testing the lighting.

She had worn the gown I’d waited three months for, stood at the shore I had chosen, held the bouquet I had designed—and she told me it was only to test the lighting.

Derek walked over and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. The motion was so natural. So natural that he didn’t even glance back at me.

I asked, “Derek, so my wedding gown—you let her wear it first?”

He finally looked at me, his brow furrowed. “It’s just a dress. They’ll clean it. You don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

I looked down at my own hands.

For this wedding, I had pulled more than a dozen all-nighters on the visual plan. My fingers had been sliced by paper edges over and over.

He had been sitting in his study, flipping through documents, and all he said was, “As long as you like it.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand weddings.

It was that the wedding he dreamed of was never the one we were building together.

The photographer asked carefully, “Mr. Sullivan, should we still follow the original plan for the retouched photos?”

Derek said, “Do Lily’s set first.”

I laughed. Almost.

Derek glanced at me. “Nora, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I pointed at the photo on the screen. “That one turned out pretty nice.”

Lily’s eyes went red. “Nora, please don’t be like this. I’ll give them up, I swear.”

Derek’s voice turned cold. “She already said she’d give them up. What else do you want from her?”

I looked at him. Three years ago, I had taken his photo for the very first time.

The Sullivan Group had just gone through a leadership change. He’d been cornered by the board until the early hours and was sitting on the rooftop, smoking.

I lifted my camera, and he frowned. “Don’t.”

Later, when the photo was developed, he stared at it for a long time.

He said, “Nora, you’re really good at making people look beautiful.”

I was over the moon that whole night.

Looking back now, he wasn’t complimenting me.

He had just finally found someone who could shoot the dream he could never finish with Lily.

I closed the album. “Don’t bother retouching my photos.”

Derek paused. “What kind of scene are you trying to make now?”

I said, “They all look the same, right? Just delete them.”

The studio went even quieter.

Derek’s expression darkened. “The wedding is in ten days. You want to delete the photos now?”

I looked at Lily. She kept her head down, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup, as if I had bullied her into silence.

Derek stepped in front of me and lowered his voice. “Nora, don’t embarrass me in front of everyone.”

That phrase again. Don’t embarrass him.

So when someone else wore my wedding gown, I wasn’t supposed to be embarrassed.

When my plan was handed to someone else, I wasn’t supposed to be embarrassed.

When my own wedding photos didn’t even include me, I still wasn’t supposed to be embarrassed.

I handed the album to the photographer. “Delete them or don’t. Whatever.”

Derek reached out and gripped my wrist. “Nora.”

The hold wasn’t hard.

But it was exactly enough that I couldn’t pull free.

“Lily isn’t well. She just wanted a few photos to cheer herself up,” he said. “You’re about to marry me. Why do you have to fight her over this?”

I lifted my head to look at him.

I felt so tired, all of a sudden.

“Derek, it’s not the photos I’m fighting for.”

He frowned.

I slowly pulled my hand back. “Forget it.”

The moment I said it, I surprised even myself.

No tears. No shouting.

Just a hollow space somewhere inside me.

Like a negative someone cut from the roll. Nothing left but blank space.