Our Vows Were Fake, Theirs Were Real

Chapter 1

My groom got a phone call on our wedding day.

Without a word, he rushed out, leaving me standing there in my dress, alone, while all our guests looked on in stunned silence.

I called him. I texted. Over and over.

No response.

It wasn't until late that night that I saw the photo.

His childhood sweetheart, Mia Adrian, posted it in a group chat.

It was a marriage certificate.

The groom in the photo?

My fiancé, Timothy Gage.

In an instant, I went from being a bride waiting at the altar…

To the "other woman" who had apparently ruined someone else's relationship.

My grandfather, the only family I had left, collapsed from the shock.

He never woke up again.

Blinded by grief and rage, I typed in the group chat:

"What was our wedding to you, Timothy? What was I to you?"

He didn't respond.

Not until after my grandfather had been cremated.

Buried.

Gone.

That's when Timothy finally replied:

"Mia almost died. Evie, be reasonable."

I wanted to scream at him, "Let's get divorced!"

But then I remembered…

There was no marriage certificate.

We hadn't even finished our wedding.

We weren't married.

I had spent ten years of my life, three admiring him from afar, seven as his girlfriend, only to end up as a footnote in someone else's love story.

So, I blocked him.

Quietly.

Without a word.

He liked quiet, gentle girls. So I silenced my nature and played the part.

He said he hated clingy girlfriends, so I kept my distance.

He didn't like women in pretty slip dresses, so I threw out my wardrobe and bought neutral suits.

Seven years.

And I turned myself into someone I barely recognized.

Then Mia came back.

Mia could be loud, Timothy said she was adorable.

She'd call him over the smallest things, Timothy said it made him feel needed.

She wore low-cut slip dresses, Timothy couldn't take his eyes off her.

Turns out, all his so-called "standards" were just rules for me.

Whenever Mia called, Timothy would drop everything and run to her.

Whenever he talked about her, his eyes softened:

"Mia's still young. She needs me. You're different, Evie. You lost your parents young, you've always been strong. Independent."

As if my childhood trauma gave him permission to abandon me.

Funny thing is, I'm actually a few months younger than Mia.

After my grandfather died, I knelt by his grave for hours. The pain in my chest was unbearable. I had no one left. No family. No love. No reason for anyone to care whether I lived or not.

My parents died in a car accident when I was a kid. My grandfather raised me, all on his own.

He was getting older. His health was failing.

He used to tell me,

"I just want to see you married to someone who truly loves you. Someone who'll protect you like I always have."

I failed him.

The day he died, he held my hand tight, eyes full of fear and sorrow.

"I'm dying, Evie... How are you going to make it in this world without me?"

I stayed at his grave until the sky turned dark.

When I got back to the house, our matrimonial home, Timothy and Mia were just walking in, laughing, arms linked.

Timothy pulled away from her the second he saw me. Guilt flickered across his face.

"Evie... I didn't know you were home..."

I stared at him, fists clenched, teeth gritted.

I didn't want to cry.

But I did.

"Evie, please don't get the wrong idea. There's nothing going on between Mia and me."

Then, as if it explained everything, he added:

"She's sick. She doesn't have much time left."

He didn't even let me speak.

"She was scared after getting the diagnosis, so she called me. You've always been the understanding one, Evie. Please don't make this harder than it already is."

That was his version of drawing the line.

Like I was the one out of line.

So I looked him dead in the eye, voice shaking:

"Timothy, you say there's nothing going on… but you married her. What does that make me?"