Not the Wedding I Need

My fiancé wants to marry me in a pizzeria. At the same time, he promises to give his true love the rest of his life on a luxurious cruise.

Our wedding is only 48 hours away, but I don't want him anymore.

I was so busy preparing for my wedding to Harold Lawson that my gastritis acted up. Meanwhile, he was busy celebrating his last night being single with his true love, Ivory Frost.

I curled up on the floor, unable to move. I couldn't reach Harold even until I passed out.

I woke up in the hospital and saw his whereabouts on his social media. It turned out he'd changed what was supposed to be his bachelor party to a wedding night just for him and Ivory.

He was about to become my husband, yet I saw from the video how he made her a heartfelt promise. "I'll give you the best I have. She'll only be my wife in name."

They then shared a passionate kiss on a luxury cruise.

To think I would be marrying him in a simple pizzeria in 48 hours.

I calmly turned off my phone. Perhaps there wasn't any need for a wedding anymore.

…

There were 36 hours to go to the wedding. When I got home, I saw that Harold had actually gotten back before I had. He sat on the couch.

When he heard me opening the door, he suddenly ran over and locked me outside. "You're about to become a married woman, yet you had the nerve to stay out all night. How shameless can you be?"

He had the audacity to berate me for that, but right before he locked me out, I saw the bedroom door open. Ivory came out in a loose men's shirt, her hair damp.

I stood at the door, feeling unexpectedly calm. Harold had already given her a wedding—of course he had to follow up with a wedding night.

I doubt he even remembered he had an actual fiancée who had to spend the night at the hospital due to an illness.

As I turned to leave, the door was opened. Harold hooked a finger at me. "Come in. I'm hungry; cook for me."

I'd yet to eat anything thus far; I had no intention of tormenting my stomach. So, I headed to the kitchen without a word.

Ivory was back in her dress, but it was so skimpy that it exposed more of her skin than the shirt had. She clung to Harold's arm and smiled sweetly at me. "I had so much fun last night that I stayed out too late, and Harry was worried about me. That's why he told me to spend the night here.

"You won't get mad at me, will you, Minnie? Harry's just too concerned about me."

I said indifferently, "No, it's fine."

Then, I headed into the kitchen.

Harold's eyes had been darting around diffidently earlier, but he now relaxed when he heard I wasn't mad. He said to Ivory, "Of course she won't get mad. I've already agreed to marry her, haven't I? That means she also has to care about the people I've taken under my wing.

"You don't have to be polite with her, Ivy. Just tell her what you want if you need her to do anything."

I faltered while slicing the vegetables. He made it sound like I was a housekeeper or nanny that he and Ivory could order around whenever they wanted. Even the boiling water seemed to be urging me to get on with my chores.

I was about to season the broth when Ivory suddenly squealed, "Don't use that brand of salt! It's unhealthy to consume too much of that; I'm not going to drink the broth!"

I'd already sprinkled the salt in. She pouted and turned to tug on Harold's shirt. "Look at what Minnie did, Harry!"

Harold immediately stormed toward me. "Did you do that on purpose, Minerva? Make another pot of broth the way Ivy likes it!"

As he spoke, he lifted the pot of chicken noodle soup that was already done. He wanted to pour it away.

My mind was elsewhere, so I didn't move. His hands gave out from the weight of the pot, and half the scalding broth ended up on my arm.

He panicked and turned on the tap, putting my arm under it to let the running water cool down the burn. "Look at what you made me do! Do we have any ointments for burns at home? I'll get it. You continue cooling the burn."

When he found the ointment and unscrewed it to apply it for me, Ivory called his name in grievance from the living room. "I'm starving, Harry. My stomach hurts."

"Let's go eat, then." Harold threw the ointment at me without hesitation. Then, he headed to her and pulled her out of the apartment.

When they reached the door, she suddenly asked, "Wouldn't it be too rude not to bring Minnie with us?"

Harold looked uncaring. "It's her fault for standing there like a mannequin. She wouldn't have gotten burned otherwise. Anyway, she's the one who can't even cook a meal properly. Let's just forget about her and go eat. She can starve for all I care."

The door shut behind them. I stood there, feeling like my stomach was starting to hurt again. The burn on my arm didn't feel any better despite running it under cold water, too.

The sound of the water was all I could hear. Suddenly, I remembered that I'd yet to call off the wedding.