After ten years together, Antonio Kaufman and I were finally getting married.

Then his first love, Aimee Walton, crashed the wedding.

Aimee put on my dress and my ring, and she was crying. "I'm really sick and don't have much time left. Just let me have this wedding. You'll have your whole life with Antonio anyway."

Antonio nodded and said, "Grace, you're carrying my child, and we're already registered. You've got everything that matters. Let her have this. It's just a ceremony."

It was my wedding. Yet no one seemed to care whether I was the one walking down the aisle with him.

Feeling shattered, I made an appointment to end the pregnancy and bought a one-way ticket abroad.

My child deserved a home filled with love, not one hollow and cold.

And I couldn't stay in a city that only brought back bad memories.

The day I was leaving, Antonio broke down in tears. He apologized, begging me to stay.

"Grace, what are you talking about?" Antonio had Aimee by the hand since the wedding started. He let go and reached for me.

I slapped him hard across the face. He froze, cradling his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Aimee hiked up her skirt and hurried between us. "Grace, please don't be mad. Don't hurt Antonio.

"You can have the dress and the wedding back. Just let me go and die alone," she sobbed softly.

She fumbled with her dress as if to rip it off.

Antonio stopped her. "Aimee, this dress is for you, just like this wedding."

He carefully smoothed out the gown, fixing every wrinkle and ribbon. The white fabric made her look more fragile and delicate than the chandelier overhead.

Antonio had chosen the dress for me, but it fit her perfectly.

When I tried the dress on, it just felt off. I asked the staff if they could fix it, but Antonio refused, saying it was custom-made.

It all made sense now. The dress was for Aimee.

A bitter laugh escaped me, and Antonio's eyes snapped back to me.

"Grace Parrish, are you happy now? Do you really have to push her like this?

"Think about the baby. If you don't want people calling them a bastard, you'd better stop and listen to me."

The wedding march began, and the flower girls scattered petals down the aisle. Antonio walked in with Aimee on his arm, soaking up the crowd's adoration.

As the piano played its sweet tune, I called the hospital to schedule an abortion.

The guests' eyes shifted from the happy couple to me, and their whispers and pointing fingers made me feel like an intruder.

When the vows began, their stares grew unbearable. I fled in humiliation.

As I passed the front row, I saw my family sitting there, completely at ease, as if nothing was amiss.

My brother, Saxon Parrish, even got up on stage to congratulate them. "What a wedding! Antonio really nailed it!"

He spoke as if Aimee were his sister.

After he finished speaking, Saxon noticed I was gone.

He texted, "Come back. Don't embarrass Antonio. No biggie. It's your name on the marriage certificate, not hers."

"Just apologize to them. Antonio promised me a new car next month. I've already signed the contract. If he gets really mad, you'll have to pay the rest for me."

My chest tightened. With trembling hands, I texted back, "I give you money every month. Why would you ask him for something so expensive?"

He typed, erased, typed again, and finally left it unsent.

Later, my parents called, their voices sharp "You're a disgrace. If you can't get your brother a car, let Antonio pay for it. You're lucky to marry someone loaded and generous. Why make a scene? You've embarrassed us!"

As their tirade dragged on, everything fell into place.

Antonio's mother treated me with disdain, constantly hinting that I was a gold-digger.

It was because my family had been milking Antonio for money, using my name as their excuse.

Drained and unsteady, I sank onto the stone steps in the middle of the hall. By then, my parents had already hung up.

After a moment, I forced myself to my feet.

On my way down the stairs, I tripped, twisting my ankle. A sharp pain shot through me.

I looked down at my heels, rubbed raw and blistered.

Neither the dress nor the high heels were meant for me—not in size, not in spirit.

I used to think Antonio was just clueless about women's fashion, too busy to notice.

But as I looked at the garden, filled with white roses and violets, Aimee's favorite flowers, the painful truth sank in.

None of this was ever meant for me.

By the time I walked the gravel path to the venue earlier, my feet were already blistered from the heels.

Now, with my ankle throbbing, every step back was torture.

The servants passed by, heads down, balancing trays of food.

None of them spared me a glance or offered help. Antonio had ordered them to leave me alone following my outburst.

I slipped off the heels and tossed them aside. They didn't belong to me.

My bare feet met the sharp edges of the gravel, every step leaving blotches. Finally, I made it to the door.

I tried to get a ride to the hospital, but my account didn't have enough money.

Suddenly, the sky above clouded over, threatening rain.

How could my account be empty? I earned 5,000 dollars every month without fail.

I checked the banking app repeatedly, but the balance stayed the same—zero.

The car pulled up, and the driver cast me a disdainful glance. "You can't pay? Get out of my way."

I stood there, thinking hard. There was only one explanation—my greedy family.

Even at my lowest, they had been waiting, ready to strike when I was most vulnerable.

I dropped onto the curb, hugging my knees. Then my daze was broken by the buzz of my phone.

I answered and heard Antonio's condescending voice.

"The ceremony is over. You can come back for the group photo now. You wouldn't want to miss having something to remember on our anniversary, right?"

"No, thanks." I wiped my face, surprised to find it wet. Only then did I notice it had been raining for an hour, leaving me drenched.

"Grace, I'm trying to make peace. Stop being difficult.

"You're out of money. Keep pushing me, and I'll leave you on the streets," he said.

"How do you even know I'm out of money?" I asked, stunned.

"Your family is a bunch of leeches," he sneered. "They wouldn't stop nagging me for money, so I gave them your card PIN.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you. But it's not my job to support them."

That was when I learned how my years of hard-earned savings had been drained.

"Your family is a disaster," he said. "You drag all their problems into our life. Aimee's not like that. She's never burdened me with anything."

He couldn't stop praising Aimee for being so nice and gentle while tearing into my family.

Antonio always found excuses for her.

I thought back to when I was pregnant, and my parents came asking for money again. For the first time, I said no, worried about maternity leave costs.

Saxon snapped, accusing me of arrogance after I married up. Then he shoved me down the stairs during a scuffle.

I dislocated my arm trying to protect the baby and nearly miscarried.

When I called Antonio for help, he was busy comforting Aimee, who had just run away after fighting with her father.

He barely listened before brushing it off as family drama and hanging up.

Then he went right back to soothing Aimee. He even swore to teach her parents a lesson in business if they kept favoring her brother.

I kept calling, holding my arm, until he finally answered. All he said was, "Handle it yourself."

Even worse, he had told my family the card PIN, calling it "helping you one last time."

The silence dragged on until I heard Aimee's syrupy voice. "Antonio, do you think Grace will get jealous if she skips the group photo and it's just the two of us in the center?"

"Let her be. Whether she shows or not, she owes you an apology," he replied. The dig at me was obvious.

I hung up without a word. With borrowed money from a friend, I finally made it to the hospital.

After getting soaked with a broken ankle, I developed a fever. The ob-gyn suggested delaying the abortion for a couple of days.

With nowhere else to go, I stayed at the hospital.

At night, Antonio called, demanding to know where I was.

As usual, Aimee chimed in to stir things up. "Antonio, it's late, and she's still not home. Do you think she's staying at some coworker's place? I hear her office has plenty of men. Aren't you worried?"

He scoffed, "You don't understand. She's obsessed with me. Like a loyal dog, clingy and impossible to shake. She'd never cheat."

The words stung. They brought back the time he tried to break up with me. I had done everything to win him back, believing my love had moved him. But to Antonio, it meant nothing.

Antonio recounted the breakup in painful detail, even mocking how I had begged him to stay.

Aimee laughed, clearly amused. "Oh, Antonio, wasn't that when I came back to the country? Did you do it because of me?"

Antonio paused and then said to me, "Don't read too much into it. It was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. I only love you now, and that's why I married you."

I shook my head and hung up.

The nurse changing my bandages must have overheard. When she looked at me again, there was a trace of pity in her eyes, and her voice softened.

"When can I have the procedure? The sooner, the better," I asked.

"Your ankle looks fine, so tomorrow," she replied.

The next day, I followed the nurse down the hallway.

Through an open door in the maternity ward, I saw a mother being wheeled out, her newborn bundled in her arms. Her family gathered around and asked about her and the baby.

A wave of sadness washed over me. My hand drifted to my belly as I looked down.

The nurse thought I was just nervous. "Try checking your phone for something fun. It could help," she suggested.

I stared blankly at the screen, my mind elsewhere. Then I found myself opening Instagram.

I came across Aimee's latest post—a grid of photos tagged with its location.

She and Antonio were holding hands, smiling in each shot.

The caption read, "Final trip with the love of my life."

I thought I had already given up on Antonio since the wedding, but the tears came, falling onto my screen.

His job had always come first with late nights, endless business trips, and constant delays to our plans.

I had spent years dreaming of our wedding and honeymoon, holding onto that hope.

And now I was sitting here crying over their happy moments.

I wiped the tears from my face. As I cleaned my phone screen, my finger accidentally hit "like."

A message popped up. "Grace, you were supposed to be here with me for the honeymoon. But you got upset and left. I figured I might as well not waste the hotel."

I blocked him immediately, hoping for some peace of mind.

But Antonio was crazy and called. I picked up just as the nurse called my name.

Antonio's tone softened when he heard it. "Grace, are you sick? Is it serious? Do you need me to be there for you?"

Aimee's voice cut in. "Did she see my post and fake being sick to mess up our trip? Don't fall for it. If anything, I'm clearly sicker than her."

Antonio paused and seemed to agree. No one really sick could have had the energy to land that slap at the wedding.

Then he barked, "Grace, stop it. Your little tricks aren't gonna work on me."