A week before the wedding, my fiancé suddenly changed the venue—from the snowy mountains I had chosen to the beach. His friends teased him about it, laughing as if it were nothing serious.
“Just because Calla likes the beach, you changed the wedding venue? And you didn’t even tell your fiancée? What if her family gets disappointed?” one of them joked. Another added, “Besides, wasn’t she the one who planned the snowy mountain wedding?”
Damien only shrugged, unconcerned. He told them it was fine, because I loved him too much to ever refuse. I would, in his words, be “blinded by him.” He laughed, adding that I took the wedding so seriously I’d be checking everything dozens of times anyway, so if I noticed the venue had changed, I’d naturally tell my family myself.
I had been standing by the door the whole time, listening. For a long moment I couldn’t move, then I forced myself to turn away as if I hadn’t heard a thing.
On the morning of the wedding, when Damien should have been picking me up, he called in a panic. “Serena, why aren’t you here yet?”
I stared out at the snow falling past the window and answered quietly, “I’ve been here a long time.”
——
The snowy mountain ceremony had been my dream for months, chosen for its meaning to us. But because of Calla’s casual suggestion, Damien had thrown it away without hesitation. My hands shook as I stood there, unable to make a sound.
Even his friends had noticed something was wrong. One of them frowned and said, “Marriage is a matter between two people. Shouldn’t you at least tell Serena? How else can she prepare?”
Damien brushed it off with irritation. The mountains were too cold, he said; the seaside was far more comfortable. When pressed about how disrespectful it was not to tell me, he sighed, annoyed. If I knew, I would only ask questions, maybe even throw a tantrum, and then he’d have to coax me—what a hassle. In the end, he insisted, I loved him too much to resist, so what was the harm?
Someone smirked knowingly and said, “We all know this is about Calla. Honestly, we thought you’d end up marrying her—she’s gorgeous and comes from a good family.”
Damien’s face darkened. “Shut up. Don’t let Serena hear you say that.”
But the others only laughed. “Relax. You’re the lucky one. She’s completely devoted to you anyway.”
Then his phone rang. Calla’s name lit up the screen, and someone snickered, “The real bride is calling.” Damien didn’t bother correcting them. Instead, he answered softly, his tone gentler than I had heard in years.
Calla’s laughter floated through the speaker. “Did you really order that dress for me? I heard you have to book it six months in advance.”
“Yes,” Damien said, his voice warm. “I had it flown in from Milan. It’ll be here next week.”
“Isn’t that expensive?” she asked coyly.
“Only seventy thousand. Worth it if you like it.”
Her voice trembled with delight. “You’re too good to me. I’ll wear it for you on your wedding day.”
He chuckled softly. “I’ll be waiting.”
When the call ended, his friends erupted with laughter. “Trying to outshine the bride? Damien, are you marrying Serena or Calla?”
He only smiled. “Serena and I are practically an old married couple. She doesn’t care about things like this. But Calla… she needs it more.”
I stood outside the door, my lips twisting into a bitter smile. My own wedding dress had been bought here in this city. On the day of my fitting, my eyesight hadn’t fully recovered, so I had asked Damien to help me choose. After watching me try on three gowns, he’d only tossed out a careless remark.
