The night before my wedding, I couldn’t sleep.
I had imagined nerves, excitement, maybe a few happy tears. Instead, dread sat heavy in my chest. No matter how I shifted in bed—counting backward, focusing on my breathing—my heart refused to calm.
Finally, with a pounding headache, I slipped out of bed and crept downstairs for aspirin.
That’s when I heard voices.
My mother’s, low and urgent.
“Please,” she said. “Just listen to me.”
Then a man’s voice answered—deep, familiar.
Zachary.
My stomach dropped. He was supposed to be at his hotel. Why was he in my parents’ kitchen?
I moved closer, heart racing, and peered around the corner.
My mother was on her knees.
Not crying. Not hysterical. Calm. Controlled. Begging.
“Please don’t show up tomorrow,” she said.
Zachary stiffened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Her next words cut through me like glass.
“I’ll pay you,” she said quietly. “Twenty thousand dollars. It’ll be in your suit bag. Just leave. Disappear.”
My vision blurred.
Zachary let out a short, bitter laugh. “Are you serious?”
“She loves you,” my mother continued, unfazed. “But love isn’t enough. She deserves stability. Comfort. You can’t give her that.”
“And you think some rich old man can?” he shot back.
“He’s successful,” she replied tightly. “He can provide.”
There was a long silence.
Then Zachary shrugged.
“Fine,” he said. “Deal.”
I backed away before I collapsed, barely making it upstairs before my legs gave out. Minutes later, the bedroom door opened softly.
Zachary sat beside me on the bed.
“I know you heard everything,” he said quietly. “But I’m not leaving.”
I stared at him, shaking.
He explained everything in one breath.
“My parents—your parents—want you to marry your father’s wealthy business partner. They think he’s a better match. They offered me twenty grand to vanish. I said yes because I’m going to take their money… and give them exactly what they asked for.”
My heart pounded. “What does that mean?”
“Tomorrow, I won’t show up,” he said. “But not because I’m running away. Because you and I are leaving together.”
Relief crashed over me so hard I nearly cried. He wasn’t betraying me.
He was choosing me.
The next morning, I slipped into my wedding dress.
My mother knocked on the door, smiling sweetly. “It’s time.”
She had no idea.
The church was packed. Guests whispered as I walked down the aisle, bouquet trembling in my hands.
Zachary’s place was empty.
Exactly as planned.
My mother sat in the front pew, looking pleased.
I turned to face the crowd.
“So,” I said clearly, “where’s fiancé number two?”
Gasps rippled through the room. My mother’s smile vanished.
I told them everything—the bribe, the money, the secret plan to replace the groom. Whispers exploded. My parents went pale.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” I said coldly. “Zachary is gone. And now, so am I.”
I dropped my bouquet and walked out.
Outside, Zachary stood by his car, grinning.
I ran to him, dress billowing behind me. He caught me and spun me around.
“You did it,” he laughed.
“We did it,” I whispered.
As we pulled away, I spotted an envelope on the seat—thick with crisp bills.
“At least your parents paid for our honeymoon,” he said.
As the church disappeared behind us, along with their plans and expectations, I realized something:
I had never felt so free.
