The Wedding House He Built for Her, Not for Me Chapter 03

The Wedding House He Built for Her, Not for Me Chapter 03

I didn’t ask Garrett who the woman on the phone was.

And he didn’t offer an explanation.

The next afternoon, Mrs. Fowler called me out to a bridal boutique for a fitting. When I arrived, Valerie was already lounging on the velvet sofa, a delicate white bridal veil draped over her shoulders.

Mrs. Fowler waved me over with a warm smile, saying, “Clara, you’re finally here! Come look, Valerie has amazing taste, and she’s already picked out a few gowns for you.”

I looked at the rack of dresses—they were all empire-waisted with short trains and incredibly narrow shoulders.

“None of these really suit me,” I said.

The smile on Mrs. Fowler’s face faded a bit. “Sweetheart, when it comes to getting married, you should really listen to your elders and people with experience. Valerie has been to countless high-society weddings, so she knows what works.”

Valerie stood up and lifted a sleek, minimal gown from the rack, holding it up against me. “This one is stunning. I’m sure Garrett would love it.”

“It’s my wedding,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “Why the hell should I care what he likes?”

Mrs. Fowler set her teacup down with a sharp clink. “Clara, a marriage requires compromise. Garrett is under a lot of stress with the firm, so you should try to be more accommodating.”

Valerie added gently, “Garrett really prefers a clean, understated look. If you wear something too dramatic, he won’t be comfortable.”

The boutique assistant took the gowns into the fitting room, but I stayed exactly where I was.

Frowning, Mrs. Fowler finally snapped, “What is wrong with you lately? Why are you being so difficult? First it was a painting, then a little decoration, and now it’s the wedding dress. You’re finding a reason to be miserable about everything.”

I stared at her and asked, “Did you know they replaced my mother’s painting?”

Mrs. Fowler paused for a second. “Valerie mentioned it to me. That old canvas was a bit outdated, and it really didn’t match the aesthetic of a modern townhouse.”

“My mother painted it,” I said.

The air in the room instantly turned to ice.

Valerie’s eyes flooded with tears almost immediately. “Clara, I swear I had no idea. If I had known, I never would have suggested changing it.”

Mrs. Fowler softened her tone slightly, adding, “Well, it was clearly a misunderstanding. But Garrett was just trying to make the house look beautiful, so you shouldn’t hold a grudge over it.”

I suddenly felt a profound sense of exhaustion.

They all knew I was the one being mistreated.

But they were far more terrified of making Valerie feel uncomfortable.

When Garrett pushed the door open and walked into the boutique, Mrs. Fowler looked like she had just spotted a savior. “Garrett, thank goodness you’re here. Clara is insisting that none of these dresses are right.”

Garrett swept his eyes over the rack. “Valerie picked them?”

Valerie nodded timidly. “I was just trying to offer some suggestions.”

“Then we’ll choose from these,” Garrett said, walking over to me and gently brushing a stray lock of hair from my shoulder. “Clara, don’t make everyone waste their entire day waiting on you.”

I looked up into his eyes. “What if I refuse to wear them?”

His hand stopped, his voice dropping to a low, warning register. “A wedding isn’t just about you.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “The house isn’t mine, the dress isn’t mine, so whose wedding is this exactly?”

Garrett glared at me, his eyes flashing with a stern warning. “There are people watching. Stop talking nonsense.”

Valerie tried to soothe the tension, saying, “Clara, please don’t misunderstand. Garrett just wants the ceremony to go smoothly.”

Without another word, I turned and walked into the fitting room.

As the assistant was zipping me up, my phone vibrated in my purse. It was a text from the interior designer.

[Miss Lennox, I managed to find out what happened to that magnolia painting you asked about.

Mr. Fowler said there was no need to keep the original. Miss Hayes didn’t like the old frame, so he had someone take it to the corporate warehouse.]

An image was attached below the text.

In a dusty corner of a warehouse, my mother’s magnolia painting was propped carelessly against a concrete wall, the canvas bent in the middle and the edges covered in gray filth.

I stared at the photo, a cold numbness spreading through my chest.

“Miss Lennox, is the zipper too tight?” the assistant asked gently.

“A little,” I whispered.

When I stepped out, Garrett raised his head to look at me.

Seeming satisfied, his expression relaxed slightly as he remarked, “This one looks fine.”

Valerie, however, froze completely, her fingers tightening around the veil on her shoulders until her knuckles turned white.

Mrs. Fowler smiled warmly and said, “You know, if Valerie had held her own wedding back then, this is probably exactly what she would have looked like.”

Garrett’s face shifted instantly. “Mom.”

Realizing her slip of the tongue, Mrs. Fowler quickly hid behind her teacup. “I was just making conversation.”

I turned toward the full-length mirror.

The woman in the glass was wearing a dress handpicked by Valerie, standing beside Garrett like a ghost pasted over an old photograph.

As I glanced down, I noticed a folder peeking out from the gap beneath the fitting room door.

I bent over to pick it up and saw the title printed on the cover: [Wedding Itinerary & Design Proposal.]