The day we were supposed to get our marriage license, I sat in the sterile, fluorescent-lit lobby of City Hall until the security guard politely told me they were closing. Chasel never showed. I spent the drive home gripped by a cold, clawing panic, imagining him in a ditch somewhere, bleeding and broken. But then I opened Instagram. I didn’t find an accident. I found a wedding. The groom smiling back at the camera was Chasel. And the venue—the cascading white roses, the exact shade of ivory silk draped over the altar—was the very theme I had spent the last month meticulously planning. By the time I arrived at the venue, the ceremony was over. Under the glowing canopy of fairy lights, the newlyweds were locked in a passionate kiss, surrounded by the raucous cheers of their friends. As the applause died down, I caught the hushed voices of Chasel’s groomsmen standing near the edge of the bar. “Man, you actually stood Piper up to play pretend with Naomi?” one whispered, shaking his head. “If Piper finds out, she’ll castrate you.” “Seriously,” another chimed in. “Piper keeps you on a short leash. This isn’t going to end well.” Chasel let out a soft, careless laugh, the sound dripping with indifference. “I lost a dare last night, okay? Naomi made me promise to skip the courthouse and play house with her for a day. I had to pay up. Besides, Piper suffocates me. What guy can put up with that constant monitoring?” He paused, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s not like I’m not marrying her. City Hall is open Monday through Friday. We can go any day of the week. What is there for her to throw a tantrum about?” I stood in the shadows, listening to every word. I didn’t scream. I didn’t make a scene. Three days later, on our actual wedding day, Chasel showed up in his tuxedo, looking every bit the dashing groom. I walked down the aisle, my hand resting on another man’s arm. I held up a crisp, official marriage certificate and let it catch the light. “You can sign a marriage license with anyone, Chasel,” I said, my voice steady. “But I don’t take back a man who’s already been soiled.” … When I pushed open the heavy double doors of the private banquet suite, Chasel and Naomi were still wrapped up in each other. They were kissing with a desperate, breathless intensity, completely ignoring the crowd around them. When they finally broke apart, Naomi looked flushed, leaning heavily against Chasel’s chest as he held her by the waist. “So?” Chasel asked, looking around the room with a smug grin. “I kept my promise for the dare. Do I get a perfect score?” Naomi gave him a playful, mock-offended swat. “I guess you pass. But… I really wish this were our actual wedding.” Chasel tapped her forehead gently, his voice softening into a tone he usually reserved only for me. “Stop teasing. You know the only woman I’m marrying is Piper.” Naomi pouted, crossing her arms. Chasel smiled, but as his eyes swept over her shoulder, they locked onto me. He froze. The easy, carefree grin slipped from his face, replaced by a momentary flash of guilt before he smoothed his expression back into indifference. He walked toward me, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone lighter than it had any right to be. He glanced back at his friends. One of them raised a hand sheepishly. “Sorry, Chasel. I got caught up in the moment and posted a video to my story.” I never could have imagined that my fiancé—the man I had spent five years loving, the man who was supposed to legally become my husband today—would conspire with his entire circle of friends to hide a mock wedding with another woman. Seeing the coldness in my eyes, Chasel rubbed his temples, exhaling a long, irritated sigh. It was his signature move when he wanted me to know I was being a burden. “I lost a dare last night,” he said, his voice flat. “The guys wanted me to have one last wild night before I got hitched. We’ve been brothers for over a decade. I couldn’t just back out and look like a coward.” I nodded slowly, keeping my face entirely blank. I thought about how I had tossed and turned last night, too excited about getting our marriage license to sleep. While I was counting down the hours to our future, he was enjoying his bachelor party by playing husband to someone else. “You could have called me,” I said. “It would have saved me from sitting at City Hall like a fool all afternoon.” He blinked, momentarily taken aback, a frown creasing his brow. Before he could speak, Naomi glided over. She was wearing a gorgeous, intricately beaded backless gown that caught the light with every step she took. “Piper, it was my idea not to tell you,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I knew how sensitive you get. I didn’t want you getting jealous and ruining Chasel’s night.” Her mouth offered an apology, but her eyes were pure, unadulterated triumph. If she had truly cared about my feelings, she would never have suggested this “dare” in the first place. “If you were so worried about my jealousy, you shouldn’t have begged him to buy you a mock wedding,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. Chasel’s expression hardened. The gentle facade was gone, replaced by a warning glare. “Piper, that’s enough. It was just a game. If there were anything going on between Naomi and me, do you really think we would have waited until now?” With just a few words, he shifted the blame onto me. I was the unreasonable one. I was the party pooper ruining their harmless, thrill-seeking fun. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the decor. I had spent months agonizing over every detail of this aesthetic. And then there was Naomi’s dress. When we went to the boutique, I had fallen in love with that exact backless gown. But Chasel had gently taken it from my hands. “Piper, you’re too sweet, too elegant for something so revealing. Besides, I don’t want other men staring at your bare back. I’d get too jealous.” At the time, my heart had melted. I thought it was a sign of how deeply he cherished me. So, I compromised and chose a modest, high-necked dress instead. Yet here it was, draped over Naomi’s shoulders. Noticing the direction of my gaze, Chasel cleared his throat. “We were short on time, so I just had the bridal shop send over whatever they had in stock. Naomi’s always had a bolder style. It suits her.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. I looked at Chasel, my eyes devoid of the warmth that had lived there for half a decade. “It really does. In that case, let me wish you both a very happy marriage.” A suffocating silence fell over the room. Chasel’s jaw clenched. In the past, whenever we bickered, he viewed it as a cute, harmless little lover’s spat. But today, I was refusing to play my part. I was embarrassing him in front of his audience. “Piper, seriously, drop the attitude,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t make a scene in front of my friends.” A cold numbness washed over me. I had already been made the ultimate joke the moment they decided to throw this little festival behind my back. “Chasel, don’t raise your voice at Piper,” Naomi said, stepping in with her practiced grace. “She’s always been a bit straight-laced. It’s only natural she doesn’t understand our sense of humor. Go on, comfort her. I’m going to go change.” She turned, lifting the heavy train of the gown to walk away. In that split second, my entire body went rigid. On her feet were my wedding shoes. I had spent three months sketching the design myself, sourcing the softest, most delicate Italian silk, and having them handmade. My mother had always told me that a woman deserves a pair of shoes that fit her perfectly—not just for comfort, but because they carry her toward the life she actually wants. And now, they were on Naomi’s feet, dirtying the pristine white leather. “Take them off,” I said, my voice cutting through the ambient noise of the room. Naomi paused, blinking in mock confusion, though her eyes danced with malice. She had done this entirely on purpose. “What? Are you so desperate to play princess that you have to steal another woman’s wedding, her groom, and now her shoes?” I asked, taking a step toward her. “Does being a thief bring you that much joy?” With her mask stripped away, Naomi’s smug smile faltered. She looked back at Chasel, her lower lip trembling as she forced a look of pure vulnerability. Chasel immediately stepped between us, his brow furrowed in deep irritation. “They’re just shoes, Piper! When did you become so incredibly petty?” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I forced them back. I refused to shed a single tear in this room. “Those are my wedding shoes, Chasel.” “You’re just taking your anger out on her,” Chasel dismissed, waving his hand. “If it’s that big of a deal, I’ll buy you ten pairs just like them.” I looked at the man I had loved for five years, realizing with a sinking heart that once you stripped away his grand gestures and sweet words, there was nothing underneath. He didn’t understand why I was hurting. Or worse, he simply didn’t care. This mock wedding wasn’t just a dare. It was an obedience test. He wanted to see just how much disrespect I would swallow before our actual wedding day. Naomi slipped the heels off her feet and kicked them carelessly toward me. “If they’re such a precious treasure, here. Take them back.” I looked down. The delicate, hand-stitched silk was already scuffed and stained from the venue floor. It was a perfect metaphor for my relationship with Chasel. I bent down, picked them up, and threw them directly into the trash can in the corner of the room. Chasel’s face darkened, his patience entirely depleted. “Piper, enough. Are you done throwing your tantrum?” “Chasel,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying a weight that made his smile vanish. “You know me. I don’t wear shoes that someone else has already worn. And the same goes for weddings. You had yours with her. So ours is off.” The room went dead silent. It took Chasel several seconds to process my words before he let out a sharp, incredulous scoff. “Piper, you spent months obsessing over every single detail of this wedding. You’re really going to throw all that away over a game? Stop acting crazy. Go home, cool off, and wait for me to come marry you.” He spoke with such absolute certainty, like a man who knew he held all the cards. He believed that no matter how monstrously he behaved, I would always forgive him because I was too invested to leave. But who said I had to marry him to have my wedding? I turned on my heel and walked out. Chasel didn’t follow me. He assumed I was just running away to cry, and his arrogant laugh echoed down the hallway, accompanied by the snickers of his friends. “See? I told you,” one of his groomsmen chuckled. “Chasel has her wrapped around his finger. She’s just throwing a fit because she’s terrified he won’t walk down the aisle.” “Man, Chasel is a legend,” another added. “He played the good boyfriend for a few years, but a leopard doesn’t change its spots. He’s back to his old self.” Chasel’s voice drifted out, loud and clear: “I don’t mind humoring her occasionally, but I can’t keep doing this once we’re married. Let her stew for a couple of days. By Saturday, she’ll be crying tears of joy just to say ‘I do.’” The group erupted into laughter. “Come on, the dare isn’t over yet! We still have to carry the bride over the threshold!” When I got back to my apartment, the wedding planner had sent over the final PDF confirmation. I stared at the screen, looking at every detail of the day I had dreamed of. The aisles lined with white roses, the grand crystal installations, the hand-tied bouquet. Chasel had always known exactly how to charm me. When he was pursuing me, he locked away his playboy reputation so completely that everyone believed he had reformed for me. Even our wedding prep had felt like a fairytale. But he waited until the very moment I was most vulnerable to show me who he really was. One moment I was floating in the clouds, dreaming of our future. The next, I had been dropped onto the hard, cold earth. And he still didn’t think he had done anything wrong. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I called the wedding planner and authorized a massive budget increase. “I want to change the entire design,” I said. “Not a single original element remains. Strip it all down and start over.” The planner hesitated. “Um, Ms. Vance… shouldn’t we consult the groom about this?” “No,” I replied, my voice steady. “Just do exactly as I say.” After hanging up, I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the sofa in the dark. My phone buzzed. It was an audio file from Naomi. I tapped play. Instantly, the heavy, intimate breathing of a man filled the quiet room. Chasel. A wave of intense nausea hit me. I didn’t need to hear the rest to know exactly what was happening, or what kind of “afterparty” they were having. So much for a harmless dare. I saved the file to my cloud drive, my hands entirely steady. For the next two days, I didn’t send a single text to Chasel. And he, true to his arrogant nature, didn’t reach out to me either. Naomi’s social media, however, was a masterclass in psychological warfare. She posted photos of their “honeymoon suite,” a discarded men’s dress shirt on the floor, and a satin bra draped over the bedside lamp. Her caption read: “The wild Chasel is back. Thanks for an unforgettable ride.” The comment section was filled with mutual friends whispering, laughing, and throwing subtle jabs at me. But a strange thing happened as I stared at those photos. I didn’t feel the sharp, agonizing pain I expected. I just felt an icy, hollow emptiness. My best friend, Chelsea, called me, practically screaming into the receiver. “I knew it! I knew that bastard would never change! How could he do this to you after everything you’ve built together?” “I know,” I said softly. “I didn’t think he was capable of this either.” When Chasel first started pursuing me, I knew about his reputation. But I was young, stubborn, and foolish enough to believe I was special. I believed I was the one who could tame him. And up until two days ago, I genuinely believed I had. Chelsea’s voice cracked with sympathy. “Piper, call off the wedding. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.” I stayed silent for a long moment. “I made my bed, Chelsea. I’ll take the loss. But the wedding is still happening.” Slinking away in silence, letting everyone think I was the pathetic, discarded fiancée? That was never my style. On the morning of the wedding, Chasel woke up in Naomi’s bed. His groomsmen’s group chat was blowing up. “Is our boy even awake? Did Naomi drain him dry?” “Better hurry up, Chasel. If you’re late to your own wedding, Piper actually might murder you.” “Please, she’s practically house-trained. She knows exactly what Chasel has been doing the last three days and hasn’t said a word. Chasel really knows how to manage a woman.” “I’m so jealous. Getting married to a sweet, reliable girl while keeping a wild one on the side.” Chasel sat up, rubbing his eyes. He had to admit, he had pushed things a bit too far over the last forty-eight hours. Naomi was like a drug, but today was the day he had to return to reality. He typed a quick reply: “Running late. Go ahead and pick up the bride. I’ll meet you guys at the venue.” He tossed his phone aside and pulled on his trousers. Naomi wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, whispering, “Don’t go. We were having so much fun.” “I have to,” Chasel said, untangling her arms with a practiced, charming smile. “Today is my wedding day. You know I’ve always wanted to marry Piper.” He began putting on his tuxedo. He had planned this perfectly—stepping straight out of Naomi’s bed and onto the altar with me. He had gotten the wildness out of his system, and now he was ready to settle down and be the perfect husband. Remembering the look on my face when I walked out of the banquet hall, and my subsequent silence, his heart softened slightly. Today was our big day. He wanted to make sure I had no regrets. He sent me a text: “See you at the altar. I have a surprise for you.” I didn’t reply. Usually, she responded within seconds. Her phone was always in her hand, my chat pinned to the top. “Probably getting her makeup done,” he reasoned, a confident smile returning to his lips. As he closed the app, he caught a notification from Chelsea’s Instagram. It was a photo of me. I was wearing a breathtaking, diamond-encrusted gown, sitting on a bed covered in deep red roses. The sunlight hit the diamonds, creating a dazzling halo around me. But as Chasel’s eyes drifted to the back of the dress—completely sheer, showing off the elegant curve of my spine—his brow furrowed. He immediately sent another text: “Why did you change the dress? Are you still throwing a tantrum?” “Change it back. I bought you new wedding shoes. I’ll put them on you myself when I get there.” Still no reply. His phone buzzed with messages from his groomsmen: “She looks incredible, Chasel. We’re heading out to pick her up now!” Chasel let out a breath, his annoyance fading. It was just a dress. If she wanted to wear something sexy for once, he’d let her have her moment. He walked out of the hotel, got into his car, and sped toward the venue. Halfway there, his phone rang. It was one of his groomsmen. “Chasel… the security guard at her building says the bride was already picked up.”
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