The night before the wedding, my fiancé, Gideon Farric, destroyed the wedding dress I'd spent a year working on.

I trembled as I asked him why.

He lit a cigarette, his tone careless. "Oh, Melanie thought the dress was too plain. She wanted to add a little color for fun.

"If you don't like it, just buy another one."

Melanie Urwell. Gideon's distant cousin, who'd been staying at my house and acting like Gideon belonged to her.

I didn't say a word.

So, the most important moment of my life could be turned into a joke by someone else.

I didn't buy another dress. I simply canceled the wedding and boarded a flight to Colorado.

Gideon called nonstop.

"Where are you? All the guests are here, and you're just going to disappear?"

"Yeah."

***

When I saw the wedding dress, splattered with paint, I thought I was hallucinating.

I'd asked Gideon to hang it up for me, to keep it safe in its dust cover.

That dress was the symbol of our eight-year relationship, which was about to have a happy ending.

I called Gideon and asked him what had happened.

He was silent at first, then let out a soft laugh. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Last night, Melanie saw the dress in my study and said it was way too boring for you. So she'd tweak the design a bit, as a surprise. Just a little joke.

"The wedding's today, so there's no time to fix it. I already told my assistant to buy a new one. Don't worry about it."

Gideon's explanation was light and dismissive, as if it were nothing at all.

I stared at the glaring red stain on the carpet, refusing to give up. "So, you think this is just a joke?"

"What else? Are you going to throw a fit again?"

Gideon's voice took on a hint of impatience. "Is it really necessary? Emmie Caelen, it's just a dress. If you want, I'll buy you a more expensive one. It was just a joke—why can't you take it?"

I gripped my phone, then let go, my voice turning hoarse.

"If I hadn't come back early to check, was I just supposed to walk down the aisle in that joke of a dress? Gideon, this isn't a joke—Melanie did this on purpose, and it's vicious."

Gideon's voice went cold. He snapped, "Emmie, you're becoming more and more unreasonable!

"It was just a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Can't you drop this weird hostility toward Melanie?"

He grew icier with every word. "How many times have I explained? Her parents died young, and she's all alone back home. My aunt asked me to look after her before she passed. She's young. She thinks of me as the only family she has—that's why she acts without thinking.

"So what if I indulge her this once? If you're so upset, maybe we shouldn't get married at all!"

Gideon ended the call.

I couldn't hold myself up anymore. I slid down the wall, collapsing onto the carpet, completely drained.

Gideon and I had been together for eight years.

I still remember when I was eighteen, burning with fever, and he carried me through pouring rain from my apartment to the hospital.

I remember at twenty-three, after my first business failed, hiding in a basement, too ashamed to face anyone, and he found me. He didn't say a word, just held me tight and whispered, "Don't be afraid. We'll earn back what we lost together."

Eight years. I'd gotten used to having him in my life. Everyone said if we broke up, they'd stop believing in love altogether.

So, in all my plans for the future, he was always there.

But now, just before our wedding, the ruined dress showed that Melanie stood in the middle between us.

I could have called the assistant to buy a new dress. With Gideon's money, he could've bought me one encrusted with diamonds easily.

But for some reason, the strength that had carried me through the last eight years was gone, and I couldn't pull it together anymore.

I was lost in thought when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

Looking up, I saw Melanie standing in the doorway, wearing the pink bridesmaid dress I'd picked out for her, a cup of warm milk in her hands.

Her makeup was flawless, and she blinked at me with those wide, innocent eyes, feigning shyness.

"Emmie, I just heard you arguing with Gideon. Are you two okay?"

Her voice was soft and syrupy, with just a hint of provocation and smugness.

For the past six months, ever since she moved into my house, Melanie had always approached me this way—pretending to be naïve, fragile, and wronged—all while secretly relishing her little victories.

And now, standing in front of me, she wore the same mask.

I stared at her coldly, genuinely unable to understand why Gideon would treasure someone so transparently manipulative.

The truth is, Gideon hadn't always trusted her. In the beginning, he kept his distance, polite but aloof, sensing the games she played.

But everything changed during a company retreat. We'd gone hiking together, and on the way down the mountain, I twisted my ankle.

Just as Gideon bent down to help me, Melanie—who had been quietly trailing behind—suddenly let out a piercing scream and tumbled down a not-so-steep slope. She passed out right there.

In that instant, the way Gideon looked at me changed completely.

He didn't say a word—just scooped up Melanie's unconscious body into his arms and rushed down the mountain like a madman, leaving me and our stunned coworkers frozen in place.

Later, he explained that he'd acted out of a sense of responsibility, afraid something might happen to such a young, helpless girl.

But after that day, he never turned Melanie away again.

Eventually, Melanie moved into the new house we'd bought for our wedding, claiming she needed to recover and was too scared to live alone.

Everyone at the company knew that Gideon now had a frail cousin who needed his constant care and attention.

Meanwhile, I—the official fiancée, the woman of the house—ended up feeling like an outsider. People even gave me a nickname—Mrs. First Wife.

The first time Gideon heard it, he just gave a helpless laugh, then wrapped an arm around my waist and whispered in my ear.

"Don't listen to their nonsense. You'll always be the only Mrs. Farric."

I thought, "Can I still become Mrs. Farric now?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips as my gaze drifted back to Melanie's face.

She seemed uneasy under my stare and timidly asked again, "Emmie, is Gideon really that upset? If you mind... maybe I should just move out now, and never bother you two again."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Gideon showed up behind her.

He was already dressed in a custom-tailored black suit—the very one he was supposed to wear as the groom tomorrow. But his brow was furrowed, and his voice was sharp and unfriendly. "Melanie, didn't I tell you to stay in your room and rest? What are you doing out here?"

"Uh... I... I was afraid Emmie would be mad at you, so I wanted to talk to her, tell her not to take it to heart."

Melanie immediately ducked her head, looking lost and on the verge of tears.

The anger in Gideon's eyes vanished in an instant. He walked over, gently ruffled her hair, and his tone softened. "Silly girl, this isn't your fault. She's just being petty and overthinking things."

"But..." Melanie bit her lip, eyes lowered in secret delight, still playing the helpless damsel for all she was worth.

Gideon turned and shot me a cold look. "Look at Melanie—so thoughtful, always trying to help you. And you? Emmie, you can't even take a joke. Pathetic."

To him, Melanie ruining my one-of-a-kind wedding dress was nothing but a prank.

If I got angry, I was making a scene. I was unreasonable. I was cruel.

But why should I accept that?

I pointed at Melanie and snapped, "Thoughtful? Do you have any idea how much trouble she's caused in the past six months?"

"She wears my pajamas, uses my mug, stays up half the night knocking on your door saying she had nightmares and wants you to keep her company—shameless!

"She acts like a damsel in distress every single day. If it's not dizziness, it's chest pain. If it's not allergies, it's low blood sugar. Anyone who didn't know better would think the Farric family had adopted some ancient relic to worship around the clock!

"To my face, she calls out my name so politely, but behind my back, I bet she wishes I'd get hit by a car the moment I step outside. I can't even stand to look at that fake innocent face anymore—I feel sick!"

With every word, Melanie's face grew paler.

Finally, she couldn't keep up the innocent act any longer. Her body went limp, and she nearly collapsed.

Gideon caught her just in time, wrapping her in his arms. Then he looked up at me, his expression stormy and dark. "Are you done yet? Emmie, when did you become so bitter and vicious?

"Or is it that you never wanted this wedding in the first place, and now you're just looking for an excuse to cancel it?"

A violent shudder ran through me, as if an invisible hand had clenched my heart so tightly I could barely breathe.

So this was it—Gideon could threaten me with canceling the wedding, too.

The message was clear. If I dared to make a scene again, there would be no wedding.

If we went through with the wedding, I'd become the envy of everyone—Mrs. Farric.

If not, I'd be the pathetic joke, the woman left at the altar for the whole world to laugh at.

I lifted my head and locked eyes with Gideon, refusing to look away. I stared at him for a long, long time.

It felt like I was looking back through eight tangled years of our lives.

For a moment, Gideon met my gaze, his eyes flickering as the tension in his face softened—just a little.

I knew him too well.

After eight years together, we could read each other's thoughts with a single glance, a single shift in expression.

For eight years, I stood by him as he went from a broke college student to the CEO of a thriving public company.

I was the one who handed him cup after cup of hot coffee as he pulled all-nighters, coding for his projects.

I was the one who learned how to make chicken soup for him, burning my hands in the process.

And after every success, he'd hold me in his office, gaze quietly at the city lights, and whisper, "Emmie, thank you."

We never imagined there would come a day when we'd part ways.

We never had the heart to say truly harsh words to each other.

But this time, Gideon was different.

His face had softened, but he still held Melanie tightly. "Melanie's health is fragile—she has a heart condition. She can't handle you yelling at her like that. Apologize to her now, and we'll put this behind us. The wedding will go on as planned, and I'll let it go."

In that instant, eight years of love crumbled in the face of his casual "let it go."

I couldn't look at him anymore. Suddenly, I laughed. "No."

The last hint of warmth drained from Gideon's face, replaced by a cold, stormy anger. "Emmie, don't test my patience!"

When did it come to this—when Gideon needed patience just to deal with me?

Oh, right. He'd always been patient.

All his patience had gone into tolerating my little quirks and whims.

But it seemed he'd run out of patience for me. Now, every last bit was reserved for Melanie in his arms.

Suddenly, it all felt pointless.

I stood up, brushing imaginary dust from my skirt. "Do whatever you want."

Gideon's fists clenched. Still holding Melanie, he turned and walked away without looking back.

I returned to my bedroom without even glancing at the ruined wedding dress.

Lying on my bed, I stared up at the ceiling, awake until dawn broke.

Today was supposed to be my wedding day.

At seven in the morning, the top-tier makeup artist and photography team I'd booked arrived right on schedule.

My best friend, Jolene Brickham, showed up as my maid of honor, bursting into the room in her gorgeous dress, radiant with excitement.

"Emmie! My queen! Get up! Today, you're the most beautiful bride in the world!"

But the moment she dashed into the walk-in closet to help me bring out the wedding gown, her smile froze in place.

She stormed out holding what was left of the dress—now nothing more than a piece of avant-garde destruction—her face a mask of shock and rage. "What the hell happened here? Who did this?"

I calmly told her everything that had happened.

Jolene shook with fury. Right then and there, she tore off her bridesmaid dress. "That bitch Melanie! Is Gideon blind or just brain-dead? This isn't a joke—it's sabotage! A full-on attack! Emmie, tell me—what are you going to do now?"

I sat up in bed, my eyes blank as I gazed at the morning sun outside the window.

What could I do?

Show up at the venue in some meaningless, last-minute dress my assistant managed to buy, stand before a man whose heart already belonged to someone else, and smile, recite vows, and say "I do" in front of hundreds of guests?

Just picturing it made me sick.

I couldn't do it.

My phone buzzed—a WhatsApp message from Gideon. "I'm waiting for you at the venue."

I knew this was his final ultimatum.

If I went, we'd still be husband and wife. To the world, we'd remain that perfect couple everyone envied.

If I didn't, eight years would end in a single day, and I'd become the laughingstock of the entire city.

Jolene was frantic, pacing in circles around the room. "Emmie, say something! You're not seriously going to swallow this, are you? I'm telling you, if you let this go now, you'll be letting it go for the rest of your life! Melanie will walk all over you from now on!"

I smiled and texted her an address.

"Take the blue suitcase in the closet to this address for me. The lock code is my birthday."

Then I turned off my phone, removed the SIM card, and flushed it down the toilet.

I stepped into the bathroom, took a long, hot shower, and changed into my favorite workout clothes. I slung my already-packed hiking backpack over my shoulders.

Without saying goodbye to anyone outside, I slipped quietly out the back door of the villa and disappeared.