Twenty minutes before the ceremony, I found a letter stitched into the lining of my wedding dress. It was from another woman. To my groom. If you love me, sew this into her dress. Let her be a stand-in. Remember, your bride is just a substitute. You belong only to me. Good morning, good afternoon, good night to you, even if we can only love in secret. Ten years of shared life, of dreams, shattered into dust in an instant. 1 The pristine white paper fluttered from my grasp, my hands trembling violently. The intricate butterfly design on my bridal manicure suddenly felt like a garish mockery. Layers of tulle pooled at my feet as I reached into the dress's hidden seam and pulled out the letter – a tiny envelope, stitched with white thread, clumsy yet deliberate stitches. This was… a secret pact between my groom and someone else. The handwriting was dainty, the closing adorned with a heart, intertwining his nickname with hers: Ethie love Skylar Let your bride be me… Secretly in love… I mouthed the words, my throat choked as if stuffed with waterlogged cotton. Who was she? Who was Skylar? Today’s bride was me, wasn't she? The wedding I'd waited ten years for—how had it become her emotional stand-in? A woman who didn't even dare show her face, trying to stake her claim at my wedding? A shiver of icy dread ran through me. I suddenly remembered last night – Nathan had chuckled, as he took my dress, "Of course, we'll get a special shot of Coraline's dress. Imagine us on the couch, sixty years from now, looking at these photos. How romantic!" Then, I'd bubbled with pure joy. Now, the memory felt like a cruel twist of the knife. My fingertips grazed the rough, uneven stitches on the letter, and my eyes stung with sudden tears. My groom, with his own hands, had sewn his mistress's love letter into my wedding dress, allowing her to "marry" him in this grotesque way. And I? I was just a placeholder, a shadow to be replaced. 2 A searing agony shot through me, buckling my knees. I crumpled to the floor, the tiny crystals on the dress digging into my skin, a cruel reminder of my glittering illusion. Only fifteen minutes until my grand entrance. How could I tell everyone? How could I explain that the man I loved, the man who was publicly marrying me, was secretly welcoming another woman into his heart? I’d been buzzing with excitement for this wedding for six months. My dress was custom-made by Leo, a designer friend overseas. He'd poured half a year into crafting this haute couture piece. The simple sweep of the skirt was adorned with hand-embroidered "Forever." Countless sleepless nights, I'd secretly traced those silken threads, believing this was the final punctuation mark on ten years of love, a joyful comma leading to a lifetime of happiness. Now, it was the most sickening mockery. "Coraline! You're on! Why aren't you in your dress yet?" Juliette, my best friend, pounded on the door, her voice laced with urgency. I took a deep breath, then pulled the door open. I stood in nothing but a nude-colored slip, my veil, jewelry, and hair accessories all ripped off, my hair a wild cascade around my shoulders. "Coraline? You…" Juliette's camera clattered to the floor. She had intended to capture my graceful entrance. "What happened? Does the dress not fit? Do we need to delay?" "Don't touch me!" I yanked my arm from her grasp and walked barefoot toward the main wedding hall. I was going to the center stage, to rip this farce open with my own hands. 3 Staff in the corridor gasped, rushing to stop me, but I pushed them all aside. As my hand brushed the ornate carvings on the grand hall doors, a dull ache pierced my chest. I had meticulously chosen these doors myself, the carved roses meant to echo the "Forever" on my dress. Now, they seemed like a thousand sneering mouths, mocking my foolishness. My nails dug into my palms as I strode through the throng. With every step, the excited murmur of the crowd dimmed. By the time I stood barefoot on the stage, the entire hall fell silent, the guests' stunned stares like countless needles pricking my skin. No one dared to speak. No one knew what to do. How strange, indeed, for a bride to appear barefoot, in only a slip, her hair disheveled. My parents and Nathan's parents were the first to rush forward, forming a barrier in front of me. Juliette tried to grab me from behind, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Coraline! Are you out of your mind?" "What's going on? Juliette, what happened to Coraline? Why isn't she dressed?" My parents were frantic. My mom surged forward, trying to shield me from the gawking eyes. I smiled faintly at her. "Mom, it's okay. If I don't lay it all bare now, the humiliation will only be worse later." The emcee on stage looked around desperately, hoping someone would tell him what to do. Beside him stood the man I had loved for ten years: Nathan Miller. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, his posture tall and confident. This was the man I had dreamed of marrying countless times… I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I cried out his nickname. "Ethie!" Nathan flinched, his body stiffening. Then he turned sharply, his gaze falling upon my expressionless face. 4 I pushed past my parents and stepped forward, meeting Nathan's eyes, calm and unwavering. Like the emcee, he instinctively glanced left and right, trying to comprehend the scene. "Coraline?" He rubbed his eyes. When the reality dawned on him, he immediately pulled me into his arms, shielding me. "Coraline! You're not dressed! Why are you only in your slip?" He looked back at the stunned audience, at the countless eyes fixed on us. Quickly, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then bent down, reaching for my feet. "Coraline, the floor is freezing! Why are you barefoot? What happened? What is this all about?" He frowned, his eyes filled with apparent concern, as if nothing mattered but my well-being. I let his tall frame cocoon me, but my voice was cold as I asked, "Is it because her name is Skylar, that you go by Ethie, huh?" His hands, reaching for my feet, froze in mid-air. "Nathan Miller, how many years have you been lying to me?" "Who are you marrying today? Me, or that Skylar? The woman you fantasized about beneath my wedding dress—was it me, or her? The one you stood here waiting for—was it me, or her? You looked at me, but your heart was with her, wasn't it? You put her things in my wedding dress, and you imagined she was standing here, didn't you? Nathan, you play a cruel game." I clearly saw the veins pulsing in his neck, his temples flaring crimson and purple. My voice, loud and sharp, carried through the emcee's microphone, echoing across the silent hall. I didn't need to say more; anyone with a brain had already understood the situation. "Nathan Miller, we’re done. I want a divorce!" "I don't want you anymore." With that, I slapped him across the face, tore off his jacket, tossed it to the ground, and turned to walk away. Confetti, scattered in joyous celebration, now pricked the soles of my feet. A dull ache, yet nothing compared to the agony in my heart. A roar erupted from the crowd. Someone started demanding what was going on. My parents and his parents rushed forward, flailing their arms, trying to explain to the bewildered guests. They turned back, shouting at Nathan, asking what he had done. What had he done? He had made a clown of me at my own wedding! I bolted, running as fast as I could. Nathan chased after me, his voice tearing through the air. "Coraline! Let me explain! Coraline! It's not what you think… Skylar, she's dead!" 5 I stopped, just for a few seconds. Nathan caught up, grabbing me, forcefully turning me to face him. "She's been dead for ages! You didn't even know me when she died, and she was only ten! She was just a child! She's not my mistress! Please, listen to me!" Ten years old…? A ten-year-old girl? Was that even plausible? "It's not because she's Skylar that I go by Ethie. It's because I go by Ethie that she gave herself the name Skylar! She was infatuated with me!" "But I never felt anything for her. She was just a child! She didn't understand anything, she just idolized an older brother! When she said she wanted to marry me, it was just a child's innocent remark. I couldn't bear to tell a sick child what the real world was like!" My legs went weak, and I slumped into his embrace, my heart colder than it had been moments before. "Really? Why did you never tell me?" "For a long time, I wondered why you'd call yourself Ethie. What grown man uses a nickname like that? So it was to match Skylar, then, was it? Nathan, you never told me that." The wind outside wasn't cold, just a gentle caress, as comfortable as the day Nathan and I made our relationship official. That day, he was playing basketball. Mid-game, he suddenly ran toward me, ball still in his arms. "Coraline, I can't hold it in anymore! I can't stand it! I have to tell you! I like you! I like you! I like you! I love you!" The sweat was still fresh on his face, radiating youthful vigor. My cheeks flushed scarlet, and I turned my back, too shy to respond. He pressed on, "Coraline, do you dare to make a bet with me? A bet that we'll be together forever!" And somehow, I found my courage too, telling him I dared. Our mutual affection found its outcome, and from that day on, I began to dream of our wedding. Ten years. I never once thought of wanting anyone else, and it was only natural to assume the same of him. A young Skylar, idolizing an older brother. A sick, naive girl uttering childish words. An older brother, out of kindness, not refuting her innocent dreams, promising to fulfill her wishes if she got better. What a touching, heartwarming story. But if Nathan was only trying to comfort Skylar, why, ten years later, would he actually sew the girl's letter into my wedding dress? Why would he still be so fixated on a child? 6 He explained, swearing he was telling the absolute truth. "Nathan Miller, I don't believe you. Do you understand? I. Don't. Believe. You!" I pulled away from him again. "I'm divorcing you. We're getting a divorce!" Nathan's parents' voices reached us from behind. "Coraline, you're being so childish!" "We've invited all our friends and family today! On a day like this, what are you doing causing such a scene?! My son has already explained everything. What are you still being so dramatic about? Barefoot and in your underwear – don't you have any shame? You're not just embarrassing yourself, you're disgracing the Miller name!" I was astonished. Nathan's parents had always been polite and respectful towards me. We'd known each other for ten years; they were like my own parents. I'd always felt completely at ease with them. "You've been married for three days, and you want a divorce? Are you trying to drag my son down? You might not care, but he has a reputation to uphold! What will people say? Married three days and his wife ran off!" Who was running off? Me? Wait, why did it sound like I was the one who cheated? My parents caught up. My dad, stern and formidable, immediately pushed back against them. "That's not fair, is it? Marriage is between two people. If Nathan has done something truly awful, my daughter has every right to end the marriage. It's not for you two to come barking orders here!" My mom and dad shielded me. My mom draped her jacket over my shoulders. "Coraline, don't worry. Your mom knows there must be a reason for this. Your dad and I are here for you!" My mom whispered comfort, and my heart found solid ground. Tears, suddenly, streamed down my face. The pent-up, suppressed hurt of the last few minutes crashed over me like a torrential downpour, leaving me gasping for air. I wrapped my arms around my mom's neck, no longer able to hold back the sobs. Nathan, meanwhile, was telling his parents to shut up, kneeling on the ground, swearing he had never cheated. His words were fervent, so earnest that if I hadn't recognized the handwriting, I might have believed him. The letter was small, the handwriting tiny, but I still knew whose it was. I was certain. There was no ten-year-old child. Skylar was his mistress. Nathan had just spun a blatant lie.
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