When Love's Curtain Drops

On the day of our wedding, I went to my fiancée's house to bring her to the venue—only to find her at her ex-boyfriend's wedding.

When I confronted her, she didn't even blink.

"Having a wedding with me is Keith's obsession. It's just a sham. I'm only putting on a dress to go through the motions with him. We're doing the ceremony. It's not like we're actually going to sleep together. What are you so worked up about?"

I didn't argue with her anymore. I chose to respect her decision.

So I called the childhood friend who had secretly loved me for years.

"I'm ready to marry you now."

But when she saw me marrying that childhood friend, she completely lost it—like a woman possessed. She insisted on marrying me instead, demanding to know why I had chosen someone else.

The wedding was underway. My fiancée, Diane Anderson, stood at the altar, hand in hand with another man, taking vows.

The officiant asked her, "Do you take Keith Brady as your husband?"

Diane's voice was unwavering. "I do!"

Watching them so blissfully in love felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

The scene I had dreamed of for years—the one I longed to create—another man could conjure effortlessly.

Seven years. Seven times I had knelt before Diane, proposing, and seven times she had rejected me.

Through all my persistence, her response had always been a cold, dismissive laugh before changing the subject. My endless tolerance and patience only fueled her pride.

In her eyes, agreeing to marry me had been a favor already. Who was I to question her?

I loved her so deeply, so completely, that I had lost all sense of self. Even if she truly slept with Keith, I probably would have smiled and forgiven her, taking her back home.

But she had forgotten her own words. "Jerry, no matter how many times I reject you, in the end, I will only marry you. I will only ever wear a wedding dress for you."

On the large screen behind the stage, moments of her and Keith's sweetness played for everyone to see.

Clearly, even if this was the first time she had worn a wedding dress for him, it wouldn't be the first time she'd slept with him.

My mind went blank, a sudden clarity piercing through me.

She didn't not want to marry—she just didn't want to marry me.

I watched their ceremony conclude, my heart sinking as I prepared to leave.

Then Diane grabbed my arm.

"Jerry… Keith and I are just playing pretend. The wedding is only to fulfill one of his wishes."

For once, I didn't press her for more. Instead, I remained calm.

"Then carry on with the act. Next step—make a baby."

Her face darkened. Impatience crept into her voice.

"Jerry, I've been nothing but patient explaining all this to you. Why are you being so sarcastic? Look at yourself! You don't have an ounce of grace left. What kind