The Wedding, The Goodbye

My secretary replaced me on my wedding day, walking down the aisle in a white wedding gown.

The man I had loved for ten years threw the bridesmaid dress in my face and ordered me to wear it instead.

"She is the bride now. You'll be next," he said coldly.

My grandmother was so furious that she fell ill on the spot. Meanwhile, he and the secretary smiled brightly as they completed the wedding ceremony.

After the grand wedding, the secretary posted photos of herself in her wedding gown on social media. The comments were overwhelmingly congratulatory.

[Today is such a beautiful day, I finally got what I wanted. I hope those who try to ruin someone else's relationship will wake up soon.]

She wrote.

Chester Morrison replied to her post:

[It is a great day. Don't ruin your good mood by some trash.]

When I returned home, holding my grandmother's photo, who had passed away, I found them tangled together on the bedspread my grandmother had lovingly sewn for me, the one with a pair of Swan that symbolizes eternal love.

I finally got home at 2 a.m. after handling my grandmother's cremation arrangements.

I have night blindness, and as soon as I entered the house, I tripped over something. Thankfully, I managed to turn just in time, and nothing I was holding hit the ground. However, my lower back slammed hard against the sharp edge of a step.

I fumbled to turn on the light and noticed a black stocking at my feet, covered in holes. Immediately, I thought of Susan Koster. She was Chester Morrison's secretary and personal assistant, always available every hour of the day.

I had expressed my discomfort, but Chester scolded me for being petty.

"You should stop looking at people through your narrow, twisted views. Susan is the most professional secretary I've ever seen. You wouldn't stand a chance to be with me if I was really into her."

I convinced myself that he loved me.

However, as I held my grandmother's photo at this moment, I'd make space for Susan.

Thinking of my grandmother, I quickly checked the photo to make sure it was not damaged. Even though I did not damage it, it was my grandmother's last photo.

The photography studio had repeatedly warned me, "Take good care of it—this is the last copy. It's extremely difficult to restore it."

I was relieved as the photo was unharmed.

Then, I heard sounds of uncontrolled moaning. Through the slightly open door, I saw Chester and Susan, tangled together on the bedspread my grandmother had sewn for me.

The dim lights only added to the scene. Susan was on top, moving up and down, her face showing clear signs of desire.

When Chester noticed me standing at the door, he stared at me with a challenging gaze, his eyes glowing red with desire.

I froze for a moment. To my surprise, I felt heartbroken again. I thought I would not be affected anymore.