He Gave My Wedding Dress To His Secretary

The day before the wedding, the extravagant custom-made Victorian-style dress my husband ordered finally arrived.

I gently touched my slightly rounded belly and asked him for a divorce.

Colton's secretary called, her voice trembling as she explained, "Mrs. Carpenter, this is all my fault. I misunderstood your preferences. Please, don't blame Mr. Thompson."

Colton's calming voice came through the phone, leaving me with just one sentence: "Don't regret this."

I packed my things and left without a backward glance.

After gathering my belongings, I was ready to leave, dragging my suitcase behind me, when I ran into Colton just coming home.

He saw the suitcase in my hand and furrowed his brow, his voice cold and detached.

"Mina, you're still upset? I don't have time for this drama."

Such a harsh, cold tone might have been expected for reprimanding an employee. Once, when I'd throw a minor fit, Colton would hold me patiently, explaining things until I calmed down. Now, he merely dismisses me with a phrase. But this time, I'm serious.

I looked at him steadily. "Colton, let's find some time to get a divorce."

Colton tugged at his tie in frustration, thinking I was just bluffing.

"Johanna didn't know you disliked a white wedding dress. Can't you just put up with it for tomorrow?"

Johanna was barely in her twenties, fresh out of school, serving as Colton's personal secretary. Personal in what way? They were inseparable.

It was even joked in the industry that if Colton was around, Johanna would be within three steps of him. She even had a say in selecting the wedding dress, something I, as his legitimate wife, didn't get to do. So much so, I only learned the day before the wedding that the dress was that abhorrent shade of white.

I don't blame Johanna for choosing this style; after all, most people would assume wedding dresses should be white. But Colton was supposed to remember his promise from years ago. Clearly, he had forgotten.

This wedding need not happen.

Seeing me still clutching the suitcase, refusing to let go, Colton's frustration grew visibly.

"Where can you go while pregnant?"

"Besides, you're not a kid like Johanna, pulling a runaway stunt at your age — aren't you embarrassed?"

Even though I'd decided on divorce, my nails dug deeply into my palm. It wasn't the first time I'd heard such words.

When Johanna had just joined the company, Colton often lamented to me about how careless and troublesome she was, sending the wrong files, losing documents... He even wondered why he'd hired her. Back then, I'd speak in Johanna's defense, assuring him she was just a fresh graduate facing the inevitable struggles of starting her career.

But somewhere along the way, everything changed.

When Johanna called in tears, saying she was being followed and was scared, the man who complained about her nuisance did not hesitate to grab his car keys and rush out, leaving me with only the sight of his hurried back.