The Wedding, The Goodbye

My secretary replaced me on my wedding day, walking down the aisle in a white wedding gown.

The man I had loved for ten years threw the bridesmaid dress in my face and ordered me to wear it instead.

"She is the bride now. You'll be next," he said coldly.

My grandmother was so furious that she fell ill on the spot. Meanwhile, he and the secretary smiled brightly as they completed the wedding ceremony.

After the grand wedding, the secretary posted photos of herself in her wedding gown on social media. The comments were overwhelmingly congratulatory.

[Today is such a beautiful day, I finally got what I wanted. I hope those who try to ruin someone else's relationship will wake up soon.]

She wrote.

Chester Morrison replied to her post:

[It is a great day. Don't ruin your good mood by some trash.]

When I returned home, holding my grandmother's photo, who had passed away, I found them tangled together on the bedspread my grandmother had lovingly sewn for me, the one with a pair of Swan that symbolizes eternal love.

I finally got home at 2 a.m. after handling my grandmother's cremation arrangements.

I have night blindness, and as soon as I entered the house, I tripped over something. Thankfully, I managed to turn just in time, and nothing I was holding hit the ground. However, my lower back slammed hard against the sharp edge of a step.

I fumbled to turn on the light and noticed a black stocking at my feet, covered in holes. Immediately, I thought of Susan Koster. She was Chester Morrison's secretary and personal assistant, always available every hour of the day.

I had expressed my discomfort, but Chester scolded me for being petty.

"You should stop looking at people through your narrow, twisted views. Susan is the most professional secretary I've ever seen. You wouldn't stand a chance to be with me if I was really into her."

I convinced myself that he loved me.

However, as I held my grandmother's photo at this moment, I'd make space for Susan.

Thinking of my grandmother, I quickly checked the photo to make sure it was not damaged. Even though I did not damage it, it was my grandmother's last photo.

The photography studio had repeatedly warned me, "Take good care of it—this is the last copy. It's extremely difficult to restore it."

I was relieved as the photo was unharmed.

Then, I heard sounds of uncontrolled moaning. Through the slightly open door, I saw Chester and Susan, tangled together on the bedspread my grandmother had sewn for me.

The dim lights only added to the scene. Susan was on top, moving up and down, her face showing clear signs of desire.

When Chester noticed me standing at the door, he stared at me with a challenging gaze, his eyes glowing red with desire.

I froze for a moment. To my surprise, I felt heartbroken again. I thought I would not be affected anymore.

Five minutes later, Chester walked out, fully dressed. He was holding a cigarette and casually sat down on the couch.

Only when the cigarette was fully smoked did he finally glance at me and the photo I was holding.

"Is she really dead?" he said, shrugging. "Well, sorry for your loss."

I looked at him, anger blazing in my eyes.

On the day of the wedding, I cried and begged him to save my grandmother, but he looked at me with contempt instead.

He said my grandmother was pretending. Even if she really died, it was just her time, and she was already old enough to go.

Even so, my grandmother was known for her longevity. Doctors had said she could live another 30 years. It was him who had cruelly strangled my grandmother of her chance at survival.

What was supposed to be a happy day turned into the day my grandmother left me.

As I thought about the unborn baby within me, I found it all laughable.

"Chester, do you know? I'm—"

"Chester, I feel weak," interrupted Susan as she walked out and leaned into Chester's arms, her face still flushed from their earlier actions.

Chester quickly helped her sit down and turned to me. "What did you want to say again?"

I laughed bitterly at the sight, and a wave of deep exhaustion washed over me.

I looked at him and said, "Let us break up. And not meet each other for good."

To my surprise, I felt strangely calm.

He frowned and replied, "I don't understand what you're complaining about. She's lived long enough! Can you stop being so dramatic and immature? Stop living in your fantasies!

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. Stop looking so upset."

Chester walked toward me, trying to pull me closer, but I evaded him.

His expression turned dark, but I did not care. I held my grandmother's photo and started walking toward the room.

I would never set foot in this dirty place if it were not for the need to take a few things.

Susan blocked my way, looking confused. "Is this your grandmother's photo? She really died?"

As she spoke, she threw herself into Chester's arms, her brows furrowed. "What's the point of keeping her photo?"

She then pointed at the photo in my hands and continued, "Chester, does she not want us to be happy? Why else would she die today?

"Maybe we should burn this photo. I am afraid it will curse our baby."

I was stunned, my eyes filled with disbelief.

Was she pregnant too?

Hearing this, Chester lit a lighter and walked toward me.

"Don't you dare, Chester. This is the last photo of my grandmother!" I panicked and took a step back as he approached.

Chester chuckled coldly at my words. "Why not? You wanted to harm my child with this photo!

"I'll burn off the last photo so you can't harm anyone anymore!"