On My Wedding Day, I Married Someone Else Chapter 05

On My Wedding Day, I Married Someone Else Chapter 05

How many times. One call from Tiffany. “I’m sad.” “Can’t sleep.” “Saw a cockroach.” And Derek would walk out mid-dinner to go be with her.

While I lay unconscious at home. Wound infected. Fever at 104.

Derek sent one cold text because he was taking Tiffany to a midnight premiere. “Take two Tylenol. Drink water. I’ll come when I’m done.” He never showed.

Every time I brought it up, Derek frowned. Accused me with nothing but irritation.

“Why can’t you be more understanding? Tiffany’s all alone. She needs me. You weren’t like this before. What happened to you?”

Our third anniversary. Derek promised to take me back to Chattanooga. The town where we first met. Relive the beginning.

I planned every detail with joy. Booked the same bed-and-breakfast. He forgot entirely. Spent the afternoon golfing with friends.

“It’s just an anniversary. We’ll celebrate the next one. We’ve got decades more. Don’t be so rigid.”

But Tiffany’s random birthday. Derek started planning two weeks out.

Booked the Palm, Nashville’s most expensive restaurant. Limited-edition jewelry. An elaborately edited Instagram video. Caption read:

“To the most important little princess in my life. Happy birthday. May the world always treat you gently.”

Every memory played back. A film in reverse. Merging with the scene in front of me. Him shielding her. Blaming me.

I felt exhaustion. Deep, soul-level exhaustion.

Maybe I should’ve let go a long time ago. I was just too afraid to admit it. Everything I’d bet three years on. Lost. All of it.

I turned and walked. Didn’t even pay the balance on the table. Derek’s gentle voice followed me—his special tone. Reserved for soothing Tiffany.

“She’s probably got pre-wedding jitters. Don’t take it personally. You’re a fairy, remember? Don’t let her get to you. There, there.”

How considerate of him. Making excuses for me. So I wouldn’t look too humiliated in front of the woman he loved.

Through the bright glass window of the home store, I saw him. Gently holding Tiffany’s hand. Leading her to that absurdly expensive chandelier. His other hand pointing, describing how beautiful it would look in her home.

The image burned. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Like someone had ground broken glass into them.

That night. A voice message from Derek.

“Savannah, stop being difficult. The wedding is tomorrow.”

“I’m out there every day, grinding for our future. Rain, shine. And I come home to that cold face of yours. It makes me unhappy. It stresses me out.”

“We’re about to be family. Vows before God. I hope you can be a little more understanding. Be a supportive wife.”

His voice sounded drunk. Slurred. He kept mumbling after that. Something about Tiffany. Moving.

I didn’t finish listening. Deleted the thread.

He was the one working so hard. The one who deserved understanding.

Fine. I’d make him happy. I’d step aside completely. Let him and his insecure little princess be together. No obstacles.

The night before the wedding. Derek finally called. Probably couldn’t hold it in anymore. Or Marcus forced him.

“Savannah, all the wedding logistics—you confirmed everything with the planner, right? Tomorrow, nine a.m. Davidson County Clerk’s office for the license. Noon, church rehearsal. Three p.m., ceremony. You know the timeline? Don’t let anything go wrong.”

I murmured agreement. My hands were folding the last T-shirt into the old suitcase under the bed.

“Yeah. Everything’s clear. Perfectly arranged.”

Derek exhaled on the other end. His voice lifted.

“Good. Good. I knew you’d handle everything.”

“Tomorrow, eight a.m. I’ll pick you up in the clean truck. Sweet dreams, my bride.”

The next morning. Tennessee sunshine, bright and clear.

I didn’t put on the eight-hundred-dollar discount wedding dress. The one Derek had loudly complained about the price of at David’s Bridal. The one I paid for myself. Instead, I pulled on a crisp white blouse and jeans.

A car horn downstairs. My phone rang.

Derek sounded rushed. In the background, Tiffany’s tearful voice, muffled.

“Babe, the moving truck at Tiffany’s new place—something got messed up. Driver got the time wrong. All her stuff’s on the curb. I gotta go help her. She can’t deal with this alone. No time to pick you up.”

“Just Uber to the clerk’s office. It’s just signing papers, super quick. I’ll wrap this up and meet you there in thirty minutes.”

My voice came out flat. Not a ripple.

“Okay. Go do what you need to do.”

Derek paused. Something in my tone must’ve registered. Too calm. Missing the usual frustration and questions.

“You’re… not mad? I know this sucks, but you know Tiffany—”

“No. Go. She needs you more.”

Call ended. Derek let out a long breath. Turned to the passenger seat. Tiffany sat there, clutching the Himalaya. Eyes red.

“Done. Piece of cake. Let’s get your stuff upstairs first. Those movers are useless.”

Tiffany pouted. Pure misery. Tugged his sleeve.

“I’m so sorry, Derek. It’s all my fault. Always causing trouble. Ruining the biggest day of your life. Savannah must hate me so much.”

Derek reached over and brushed her hair back. Leaned across to buckle her seatbelt.

“Silly girl. You matter more than anything. Her personality—she can handle everything on her own. You’re different. You need me.”

Still. Somewhere in his chest. A faint unease. Savannah had been too calm. She hadn’t even complained once.