Wedding Betrayal

Two days before my wedding, I was sorting through some old belongings when I suddenly remembered the time capsules Ethan Shaw and I buried ten years ago.

His expression froze the moment he heard it. He tried to talk me out of going. “It’s been so long. Someone must’ve dug them up already.”

I didn’t think much of it and went back to our old school on my own.

But at the spot where we buried it, I unearthed five metal boxes of different sizes.

Two of them were the ones Ethan and I buried a decade ago, now rusted all over.

The other three didn’t belong there—one was just as rusty, while the remaining two looked brand-new.

The old box had Rose Quinn’s name carved on it.

On top were the words: “My secret crush was a war of myself. Ethan, I wish you happiness.”

I remembered her then—an unremarkable girl who used to sit behind us.

And the two new boxes were engraved with the names Ethan Shaw and Rose Quinn.

The date marked on them was today.

On Ethan’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t give you a wedding.”

On Rose’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t openly wish you a happy wedding day.”

I stood beneath the old locust tree that hadn’t changed in ten years, five cold metal boxes cradled in my hands.

I felt like a complete joke.

A gust of wind swept past, stirring a few fallen leaves and chilling me to the bone.

Turns out, in some corner I knew nothing about, another woman’s turmoil had been buried all along.

And my fiancé’s unspoken regret.

His greatest regret was that he couldn’t give her a wedding.

What about me?

What does our wedding, set for the day after tomorrow, even mean now?

A grand lie? Or a belated offering to the woman he truly cared about?

I reburied the three boxes that had nothing to do with me and took only the two that belonged to Ethan and me.

By the time I got home, the sky was pitch-black.

The lights in the living room were on. Ethan sat on the sofa, and the moment I walked in, he shot to his feet.

“Why are you back so late? Where did you go?”

I changed my shoes and answered calmly, “I went back to our old school.”

“Our high school?”

He froze for a split second before forcing himself to appear composed.

“What were you doing there? You didn’t even ask me to come along.”

“Nothing much. I was just passing by, so I went in to see a teacher.”

Relief washed over his face. He walked up and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting in the crook of my shoulder, his voice soft as water.

“You scared me. I thought you ran off. The wedding’s in two days. You can’t just disappear like that.”

I