Two days after discovering Conrad's journal, we hosted our engagement party at the Reynolds estate. I'd spent hours getting ready, choosing a navy blue dress that Conrad once said brought out the gold flecks in my eyes. Now, as I stood alone by the champagne fountain, I wondered if he even remembered that conversation.
"Serenity!" Eleanor, my mother, appeared at my side, resplendent in emerald silk. "Where's Conrad? The guests are asking questions about the wedding."
"He's..." I glanced across the lawn where Conrad stood with his business partners. Or at least, that's where he'd been five minutes ago. Now he was nowhere to be seen.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Conrad emerged from the house, his arm protectively around Irene's waist. She wore a flowing white dress that hugged her curves before cascading to the ground in delicate layers. The resemblance to a wedding gown wasn't subtle.
"Isn't she stunning?" Mrs. Harrington, one of our oldest family friends, whispered to me. "That dress makes her look like a bride!"
I forced my lips into what I hoped resembled a smile. "She does look beautiful."
Conrad beamed with pride as he guided Irene toward our group. "Everyone, you remember Irene. She just flew in from Paris this morning."
"Special occasion?" someone asked.
Irene's laugh tinkled like crystal. "Just couldn't wait to celebrate with you all! Conrad and I go way back."
Throughout the evening, Conrad abandoned me at every opportunity. When Irene mentioned feeling parched, he immediately went to fetch her a drink. When she shivered dramatically on the patio, he draped his jacket around her shoulders. When she laughed at something one of the guests said, he leaned in to catch every word.
"Your fiancé seems quite taken with Ms. Palmer," Dr. Chen observed quietly, handing me a fresh glass of champagne. "Perhaps you should remind him whose engagement party this is."
Before I could respond, a splash echoed across the garden followed by Irene's theatrical cry for help. She'd slipped by the pool's edge, her white dress billowing around her like a cloud.
Without hesitation, Conrad dove into the water fully clothed, his expensive suit instantly ruined as he swam to her side. I stood frozen, watching as he lifted her from the water, cradling her against his chest.
"You're so brave," Irene murmured, her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried her toward the house.
I remained by the pool, invisible and forgotten, water droplets splashing my shoes as guests rushed past me to follow the drama.
---
Over the following weeks, wedding planning became a series of small humiliations.
"The florist needs final approval on the centerpieces," I told Conrad one evening, spreading samples across the dining table.
He barely glanced up from his phone. "Whatever you think is fine."
"I prefer white roses," I said, pointing to the sample. "They've always been my favorite."
Conrad finally looked up, his expression dismissive. "Irene mentioned she always loved tulips. White tulips would be more elegant anyway."
"But this is our wedding," I protested softly.
"And Irene has excellent taste," he countered, already turning back to his phone. "White tulips it is."
Similar conversations played out with each decision. The music: "Irene thinks classical is more romantic for ceremonies." The venue: "Irene says the garden setting is too ordinary." The menu: "Irene suggested we serve French cuisine instead of Italian."
With each preference that wasn't mine, I felt myself fading further into the background of my own wedding.
By our third meeting with the wedding planner, she'd stopped asking for my opinion altogether.
"Mr. Reynolds, what do you think about the timeline?" she asked, her eyes sliding past me as if I were invisible.
Conrad leaned forward, pointing to various items on the schedule. "This needs to be moved earlier. And this should be extended."
I sat silently beside him, watching him rearrange my dreams to fit Irene's preferences.
---
The final blow came at the bridal boutique. I'd made an appointment to finalize alterations on my chosen gown—a sleek design with delicate lace overlay that made me feel like myself.
"Could I try that one?" A familiar voice made me turn.
Irene stood in the doorway, her expression innocent despite the calculating gleam in her eyes.
"That's... that's my dress," I said, clutching the fabric of my sample gown.
"Oh!" She widened her eyes in mock surprise. "I didn't realize you'd already chosen. Could I just try it on for fun? I've always wondered what I'd look like in a wedding dress."
Before I could object, Conrad appeared behind her. "Great idea! Let's see how it looks on you."
Ten minutes later, Irene emerged from the fitting room in my dress. The consultant gasped appreciatively as Irene twirled before the mirror.
"You look absolutely radiant," Conrad breathed, his eyes never leaving her reflection.
I stood frozen, watching him stare at another woman in my wedding dress with an expression he'd never once directed at me.
When I finally found my voice to object, Conrad waved away my concerns. "It's just a dress, Serenity. Don't be so possessive."
As Irene continued to model my gown, I caught my reflection in the mirror—pale, diminished, and utterly invisible to the man who was supposed to marry me.
