Escaping Eric's False Love

To placate Kathryn, who was throwing her hundredth dramatic fit, Eric asked me to step down from my role as the bride.

“She’s just young and a bit clueless. Could you do me a favor?” he pleaded. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the real Mrs. Jimenez.”

I clutched the edge of my wedding dress, hesitating before giving a silent nod. As I returned to the changing room, I overheard him jesting with his friends.

“Savanna’s just like a loyal pet; she wouldn’t dare to oppose me.”

“Are you really letting the girlfriend take center stage at your wedding? I bet you could tell her to give up her place on the marriage certificate too, and she’d go along with it.”

Eric laughed smugly. “Definitely, want to wager on it?”

He bet with his friend that after the wedding, he’d get a marriage certificate with Kathryn, and even if I were shattered, I’d quietly comply. I stood there for a while, then turned to leave without a word.

Outside the bridal shop, I glanced at the text message that had just arrived:

[Sis, let’s ditch this wedding, okay?]

I replied: [Okay!]

As soon as I sent the message, the phone rang from the other end. Thankfully, I had it on silent mode, avoiding any interruption in the room where Eric was video-calling his friends, still poking fun at me.

“If she can’t handle this, how can she be the Jimenez family’s matriarch?” he joked. “She can’t leave me. I’ll just get her a few gifts to win her back.”

“If Savanna’s really that easy to handle, I’ll give you my new sports car as a wedding present!”

“Deal!”

Amid their laughter, I retreated to the dressing room, locking the door behind me. Finally, the tears fell, no longer under my control. After five years with Eric, he fell for a spirited college student. He bought her houses, cars, and even got her a job, yet she always looked down on it.

“You can't buy me,” she said with disdain.

Whenever she felt wronged, she pulled the same act of leaving and having him chase after her, and Eric found joy in it. The last time, to please Kathryn, he burned my paintings set for a competition, compensating me with jewelry she had rejected.

Another time, because Kathryn claimed I slighted her, he threw me out into the snow wearing only a thin nightgown. Not only did he capture my distress in photos sent to Kathryn, but he messaged her, [See, I vented your anger for you, so hurry back, I miss you.]

The next day, while administering cold medicine to me, he said, “She’s just a pretty distraction, fun to keep around. Why stress over her?”

Such episodes had occurred ninety-nine times. This was the hundredth request to step aside as the bride. I was weary and tired of playing his games. I wiped my tears, quickly changed out of the wedding dress, and found over thirty unread messages on my