I thought I was marrying a successful entrepreneur, until his real wife and three children march into the ceremony.
Girl, youre mad! the designer shouts, flinging his arms dramatically. This is a oneofakind dress; you cant just have it altered! Its like asking Leonardo daVinci to add a moustache to the MonaLisa!
Im paying £400 for this gown and I expect it to fit perfectly, Emily says calmly, though her heart pounds. You can see the excess fabric here. Ive lost weight over the past month.
You weighed the same at the last fitting! the designer retorts. Brides lose or gain a few pounds, not that quickly. This dress was made to your measurements.
Edward, the wedding is in three days. I have no time for arguments. Please make the changes Im asking for.
Edward gives her a disapproving look, then nods. The dress does sit a little loose. Emily shed five kilos in the weeks leading up to the weddingnot from dieting, but from endless errands and nerves. Invitations, the venue, the photographer, the floristall fell on her shoulders. James is too busy running his business to worry about such details.
Fine, Edward concedes, pinning the fabric. Well make a queen of you. But dont lose any more weight, or I cant guarantee the result.
Emily smiles at her reflection. The white dress with a lace bodice and a full skirt looks like a fairytale. She turns, admiring the silhouette. In three days she will be Mrs. James Whitaker, owner of a property development firm and, by all accounts, the most charming man she has ever met.
Her phone buzzes. A text from James: Running late at the meeting. See you tonight. Love you.
Emily sighs. Its the third time this week. Business demands his attention, but after the wedding theyll have more time together.
That evening, while waiting for James at home, she flips through photos for the wedding album. Theres their first trip to the seaside, a ski holiday in the Lake District, a dinner at a restaurant where James proposed. Ten months isnt a long courtship, but when you know someone is the one, why wait?
The front door clicks openJames returns, tired but smiling. He tosses his blazer onto a chair and pulls Emily into a kiss.
Sorry Im late. The investors from Manchester needed extra attention.
Its fine, she replies. Are you hungry? Ill heat up dinner.
I snacked in the office, James says, rubbing his eyes. Tell me how the fitting went.
Emily describes the temperamental designer; James nods absentmindedly, his gaze flickering to his phone.
Youre not listening, she notes.
Sorry, urgent matter, he types a quick reply. What were you saying?
Never mind, she says, rising. Ill take a shower. Its been a long day.
The water washes away the fatigue, but not the unease. Lately James seems distantperhaps wedding nerves, perhaps work stress? She steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped, and hears James murmuring on the phone in the bedroom.
Yes, everythings fine. No, dont worry, Ive got it under control Yes, of course Im
Emily freezes in the hallway. Who is he speaking to so tenderly? She tiptoes to the door.
Ill be home soon, James says, ending the call.
Home? Hes already home. A knot tightens in her chest. She opens the door.
Who were you talking to?
James startles, turning:
Victor, my deputy. We were discussing tomorrows meeting.
You said youd be home soon.
What? he frowns, then laughs. Oh, I meant Ill be back at the office soon. Misspoke. Im exhausted, Emily.
She wants to argue, but James pulls her close. He smells expensive colognejust a hint of something feminine. She brushes it off, assuming his secretary was nearby at a meeting.
Three days, and youll be Emily Whitaker, he whispers. Sounds lovely, doesnt it?
She leans into his chest, the prewedding jitters whispering doubts. What could go wrong?
The next day she visits her friend Claire to collect the sparkling shoes she asked Claire to embellish with crystals.
You look worried, Claire says, pouring tea. Prewedding panic?
I dont know, Emily swirls the cup. James was strange yesterday. He said hed be home soon, even though he was already here.
Maybe he misspoke, Claire suggests.
And I smelled womens perfume on him.
Emily, youre being paranoid, Claire waves her hand. He runs a company with a staff of half women. Thats bound to leave a scent.
Probably youre right, Emily smiles, though the anxiety lingers.
Are you both ready for married life? You havent even lived together.
Weve spent weekends together, gone on holidays. Thats enough to know each other.
Claire sighs. What about his parents? Youve never met them.
They live in another city, retired. Theyll come to the wedding.
Its odd youve never visited them in ten months.
James is busy. You know, his firms office is in the city centre, he travels abroad for work.
And none of his business partners will attend the wedding?
Theyll be thereVictor, plus a few others.
Only a few? No friends?
He doesnt like large gatherings.
Claire eyes Emily skeptically but says nothing. From the start shes been wary of Jamestoo perfect, too mysterious, too occupied. Not every man is an open book, but still
That night Emily decides to talk. They sit in the kitchen; James scrolls on his tablet while she stirs a sauce.
James, I need to ask are we really ready for marriage?
He looks up, surprised.
In what sense?
Weve never been to each others homes, Ive never met your family, I barely know your friends.
Weve talked about this a hundred times, James sets the tablet down. Ive spent most nights at your flat because my house is being renovated. Youll meet my parents at the ceremony. My friends I dont have many; Im a workaholic, you know that.
I understand, but
No buts, he wraps his arms around her from behind. In two days youll be my wife. Well move into the new house I bought for us. Well have a wonderful life, I promise.
Emily nods. She still hasnt seen the house; James says its a surprise after the wedding. The thought both intrigues and unnerves her.
Did you pick up the rings from the jeweller?
James pauses.
Not yet. Ill go tomorrow.
Should I go? I need to be in the area anyway.
No! Thats my job. Ill take care of everything.
That night Emily cant sleep. James breathes softly beside her, but she stares at the ceiling, wrestling with her feelings. She loves him, trusts him, yet a part of her screams danger.
In the morning James leaves early, saying he must settle work matters before the wedding. Alone, Emily decides to act. She finds Victors contact in her phone and dials.
Hello? a male voice answers.
This is Emily, James Whitakers bridetobe. I need to confirm details for tomorrows event.
What event? Victor asks, confused.
Our wedding. Emily feels a chill. Youre invited, right?
A long pause.
I dont know any James Whitaker.
I thought you were his deputy at the development firm.
Im an accountant at a travel agency, never worked in construction.
Emily drops back into her chair, numb. She thanks Victor and hangs up, staring at the empty room. Who was the man she was about to marry?
She opens her laptop, searches the companys name James claimed to own, finds several firms with similar titles but none list a James Whitaker as director. Social media yields no trace of his projects. She pulls out a box of photos and documents James left with her: a passport, a drivers licence, a business card. The licence looks genuine, but she cant tell. She calls the number on the card; the voicemail says the number doesnt exist.
The front door opensJames returns, hurriedly shoving everything back into the box.
What are you doing? he asks, kissing her cheek.
Looking at our photos, Emily lies. Tomorrows the big day.
Yes, he smiles, pulling a velvet ring box from his pocket. Ive got the rings. Want to see?
She nods. He opens the box; two gold bands glint on a satin cushion.
Beautiful, Emily whispers, a lump forming in her throat.
Try them on? he offers, holding the smaller one.
No, she steps back. Bad omen. Youll wear them tomorrow.
He laughs.
Superstitious, eh? Fine, itll be a surprise.
He smells intoxicating, almost floral. She pushes the thought aside, assuming his secretary was nearby at a meeting.
Im heading to Claires, Emily says. Ill spend the night there. Tradition, remember? The groom shouldnt see the bride before the ceremony.
Of course, James agrees. Ill be at a mates place. See you tomorrow, love.
He kisses her long, tenderly, as if for the last time. A tear slides down her cheek.
At Claires, Emily unloads everything: the strange call to Victor, the mismatched information, the perfume.
Im scared he isnt who he says he is, she says, wiping her eyes.
Lets doublecheck, Claire replies, opening her laptop. Full name?
James Edward Whitaker.
Date of birth?
15May1979.
Claire types furiously.
Nothing, she sighs. A highprofile businessman usually shows up somewhere online.
Maybe hes private?
Or this whole Victor thing is a fake. Emily, youre being duped. Why?
Money? Emily guesses. But I have none. Im a teacher.
No house, no car.
Could he be a con who marries and runs off with gifts?
Unfortunately, that happens.
Emily spends a sleepless night. By morning she feels a strange calm. She decides she will attend the ceremony, face the man who has lied for ten months, and ask why.
The wedding is set at a small country inn outside London. Emily arrives an hour early to change and prepare. Guests begin to filter in: her parents, friends, colleagues. No sign of James yet.
In the bridal suite her friends help her into the dress and style her hair. The gown fits perfectly, yet it feels like an alien skin.
James is here, one friend announces, peeking in. He looks dashing in his tux!
Emilys heart pounds.
Fifteen minutes remain before the ceremony. She watches the last guests arrive, then a silver minivan pulls up. A welldressed woman steps out with three children, looking flustered. She tells the kids to follow her toward the inns entrance.
A cold shiver runs through Emily. Something tells her this isnt a coincidence. She slips out of the suite and heads toward the main hall, where the crowd gathers. James stands near the registrar, back turned to the doors. The entrance opens, and the woman with the children walks in.
Silence falls. James turns slowly; his face drains of colour.
Paul? the woman whispers, voice trembling. Whats happening?
Emily steps closer, still unsure. Jamesor Paul?stares between the two women.
Alice, what are you doing here? he finally says.
What am I doing? Alice cries. Your mother called me, said you were marrying someone else! Paul, we have three kids!
Guests murmur. Emily feels the floor tilt. She grabs the nearest chair.
James, she calls. Who is she?
What James? Alice snaps. His name is Paul Dmitri Kline. Hes my husband, the father of my children. I work as a manager at a car dealership.
Emily looks at the childrena pair of boys and a girl. The oldest, about ten, asks, Dad, why are you in a tux?
Quiet, Kyle, Alice shushes him. Dad will explain later.
Paulno, Jamesfinally finds words.
Alice, the kids, wait for me outside. Ill explain everything.
No, Alice says, crossing her arms. Im not leaving until I know whats going on.
Emily moves closer, eyes locked on the man she thought she loved.
Who are you, really? she asks softly.
He lowers his head.
Paul Kline.
Are you married?
Yes.
Are those your children?
Yes.
Emily feels something snap inside. All those months of love, promises, future plansgone.
Why? she whispers. Why did you lie?
Paul remains silent. Alice steps forward, grabbing his arm.
This has been two years, hasnt it? Your trips, the delays youve been living a double life!
Alice, not now, Paul pleads.
No, now! she shouts. Ive tolerated your absences, believed every word! And you
Emily interjects, Why pretend to be a businessman? Why fake the family, the proposal?
The hall is so quiet a moth could be heard. All eyes watch the drama unfold.
I I didnt plan this, Paul finally says, voice shaking. It just spiraled out of control.
You met me by chance, thought I was beautiful and smart, wanted to impress me. You said you owned a firm. Then you couldnt stop.
Why marry? Alice asks.
I thought I could disappear after the wedding, take the gifts, the money, and vanish.
Did you think you could betray both of us? Claire, who has stepped forward, says. Emily, I think he was planning to run off with the wedding gifts.
Emily, did you know he was married? Alice asks.
No, Emily shakes her head. I only learned yesterday hes lying.
Its disgusting, vile, Alice replies. You were deceived.
She turns to the children.
Lets go home. We have nothing here.
The kids obey, heading toward the exit. Alice lingers a moment, then says to Emily, Ill take the kids and go to my mothers. You can stay or leave, but dont let him stay.
Emily watches Paul stand alone, surrounded by judging stares. She steps forward, voice firm.
You need to leave, she says.
Emily, please, I can explain
Theres nothing to explain, she replies. Just go.
He lingers a heartbeat, then walks toward the door, unchallenged.
Emily remains in the white dress, the hall hushed, guests murmuring. Claire comes over, hugging her.
Lets get out of here, Claire suggests. Weve paid for the banquet, the guests are here. Should we just celebrate?
What are we celebrating? Emily asks, a faint smile forming. My freedom, perhaps. Imagine if shed shown up after the ceremony, or a year later, or after wed had children.
She looks at the guests.
Sorry for this fiasco. There will be no wedding, but the venue is booked, the music is ready. Lets make the most of it.
Emily walks to the bar, pours herself a glass of champagne, and drinks it in one go. Within an hour the room fills with dancing, laughter, stories. The sting of betrayal still burns, but something inside tells her she will survive.
Late that night, after the guests have left, Emily sits on the steps of the inn, still in her wedding dress. Claire sits beside her, offering a glass of water.
How are you? Claire asks.
I dont know, Emily admits. I feel empty, cheated, yet oddly grateful that everything came out now, not later.
Youre amazing, Claire says, shaking her head. I dont know if I could have handled it.
I didnt either, Emily says, looking at the darkening sky. Were stronger than we think.
TheyShe walks home at sunrise, the empty dress fluttering in the wind, feeling the promise of a new beginning.
