Back then, I handled our wedding planning myself. I picked the dress, and I tried it on alone. Even during the rehearsal, I stood in an empty hall pretending he was there, while he claimed to be too busy with work.
When my mom complained, I even defended him, reasoning, “Men just don’t care about these things.”
But tonight, I sat in the city’s best restaurant with Colette, back-to-back with Gideon and Arabella.
As he ordered food for her, he was messaging me, flooding me with pictures of wedding gowns and asking, [A friend of mine is getting married. Since you’re good at planning weddings, can you help her pick a dress?]
I scrolled through hundreds of photos and picked the gown I once loved most, the very same one Gideon had told me wasn’t flattering on me.
Yet he quickly replied, [My wife really has great taste. My friend loves it.]
Soon after, a message popped up in my work group chat.
[Boss: There’s a small private wedding at the church this weekend. The groom needs an experienced planner. Who’s available?]
Without hesitation, I typed, [I’ll take it.]
The next few days, Gideon acted like nothing had changed. He still staged little “romantic gestures” for me. But I noticed the difference. Most of those gifts were cheap leftovers. Clearly, the real treasures went straight to Arabella.
They were like lovers in their honeymoon phase, a love-hate couple, still targeting each other, but becoming deeply affectionate.
Arabella flaunted it shamelessly. [If I keep pushing forward, what place will she have left?]
She never said my name, but everyone knew. And I pretended not to. I just focused on the wedding I was planning.
When everything was finally set, Gideon came home with his usual apologetic face. “Marianne, I’ve got a business trip this weekend. I’ll have to bail on you again.”
He leaned in to kiss me, but I moved just enough to dodge it.
That flicker of rejection startled him.
“Baby, next week, I swear, I’ll spend every moment with you,” he promised again.
When I nodded faintly, he finally relaxed.
I offered to drive him to the airport, but he refused. I could just watch him get into Arabella’s car.
By Saturday, I had the timing memorized. I drove to the church with Colette, and from there, I remotely ran the entire ceremony, lights, music, everything.
And I invited everyone: Gideon’s clients, his employees, his relatives, his friends.