Today, I Return You to Your First Love

When my wedding gets delayed for the 99th time, I call the company in charge of planning the wedding and tell them to swap my name out for Julian Foster's childhood sweetheart, Madison Hart.

"We understand what you mean, Ms. Sinclair. But are you sure you want to make the change? It seems that Mr. Foster has no intention of delaying the wedding this time."

As I listen to the shocked host's words, I stare at the draft on the monitor.

Groom: Julian Foster

Bride: Olivia Sinclair

But the design's special note shows, "Adjust the theme according to champagne yellow, Madison's favorite color."

Madison is Julian's childhood sweetheart. Even though he claims that she's only lending a hand in referencing the wedding's designs, the truth is, she's the one calling the shots in the wedding's flower arrangement, wedding gifts, as well as the wedding anthem during the bride's entrance.

She even leaves an airy comment about my wedding dress. "A fishtail gown suits her more."

After dragging the document into the recycle bin, I reply calmly, "Yes. Please change the bride's name to Madison."

I shall return the wedding that's filled with Madison's traces to her and Julian without altering a single thing. After that, I will retreat from this bunch of nonsense unscathed.

Finally, we shall part ways permanently. Julian can stay with the woman he truly wants to be with, while I can enjoy the unbridled freedom on my own.

"Alright, we'll make the changes right away. Would you like us to notify Mr. Foster ahead of time?" the wedding planner asked after some hesitation.

I calmly looked at the screen. "No."

The call ended, and my computer screen went dark.

I glanced around the house that Julian Foster and I were supposed to move into next month after the wedding.

It was a three-story villa exuding elegance in every detail.

Yet the crystal chandelier in the living room was there because Madison Hart thought it looked more sophisticated.

The silk bedding in the master bedroom was one that Madison insisted felt better against the skin. Even the diffuser in the foyer carried her favorite bluebell scent.

I felt like a guest who had wandered into someone else's home.

I headed to the bathroom to wash my face.

A used Tom Ford lipstick sat prominently on the marble countertop. It was Madison's signature vintage red.

Beside it lay a delicate pearly earring.

I stared at the lipstick. I knew exactly whose it was.

Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Julian.

"Olivia, the wedding planner said you've contacted them several times today."

"It's nothing—just a few minor details. Everything's taken care of," I replied.

Several minutes passed before he responded with a single word. "Okay."

Then, he sent a picture.

Madison was in a champagne-colored couture gown, turning before a mirror.

"Maddie's trying on bridesmaid dresses. The zipper got stuck, so I'm helping her," read the message. "The boutique has some nice options. She's having