He Gave My Bridal Suite To His Ex, So I Canceled The Wedding

Theater: NovelMaster  |  Language: English  |  NEW

Synopsis

The day before we were scheduled to sign our marriage papers at City Hall, Julian handed the keys to my condo—the home I spent three years preparing—to his childhood sweetheart.
She moved into my master bedroom with her toddler, slept in my bed, and wore my nightgown.
She even took down our framed wedding portraits and replaced them with a photo of herself and Julian from ten years ago.
Julian’s relatives urged me to be the bigger person.
"Tara just finalized a messy divorce. She’s going through hell right now. You’re about to officially join the family, Chloe. What’s wrong with letting her stay for a bit?"
That night, I went back to the condo to retrieve my birth certificate and legal papers. Standing outside the cracked bedroom door, I heard Julian softly comforting her.
"Don't cry. Chloe is easy to talk to."
"We can push back the City Hall appointment. We can reschedule the wedding. If seeing her walk down the aisle hurts you, I'll tell her to wait."
"She’s been with me for six years. She can't live without me."
Clutching the property deed inside my bag, I let out a dry laugh.
My parents had sold their old house and emptied their savings to buy this condo outright for me.
Let him play the hero all he wanted.
This wedding was off.
This condo was supposed to be the home Julian and I shared after marriage.
To be precise, it was a premarital asset gifted to me by my parents.
Two years ago, Mom and Dad sold their starter home in the old neighborhood, combined it with their life savings, and bought this two-bedroom condo in full under my name.
Back then, Julian wrapped his arms around me and swore he would treat this place as our shared sanctuary.
He insisted on covering the renovation costs.
Over time, he contributed around eighty-five thousand dollars, mostly for custom cabinetry and major appliances.
I never wanted to take advantage of him, so I kept track of every single cent, intending to treat it as our shared investment after the wedding.
I never imagined that on the eve of signing our marriage papers, he would move another woman in.
When I pushed the front door open, the living room fell dead silent.
Julian was sitting on the couch with a three-year-old boy on his lap.
The boy was clutching the ceramic bear figurine I had purchased for our wedding reception table. One of its ears had already been snapped off.
Tara sat right beside him, her eyes rimmed with red, wearing my nightgown.
It was a crimson silk nightgown I had bought just last month.
I had saved it specifically for our wedding night.
Now it hung loosely over Tara’s shoulders, with dried white yogurt stains smeared near the cuffs.
When Julian saw me, he froze, instinctively setting the child onto the floor.
"Why are you here early?"
I didn't look at him. My eyes were glued to the nightgown on Tara.
"Who told you that you could wear my clothes?"
Tara’s face drained of color, and she dropped her head immediately.
Julian’s mother tossed a coat hanger onto the sofa, her voice dripping with irritation.
"It’s just a nightgown! Tara got soaked in the rain on her way here. What’s the big deal about borrowing it for a night?"
"You're signing the papers tomorrow. Stop throwing a tantrum the second you walk through the door."
I turned my gaze to Julian.
I gave him a chance to speak.
Even a simple explanation, an apology, anything to show he had boundaries.
Instead, he furrowed his brow, looking utterly exhausted.
"Chloe, Tara came all the way here with her kid today, and it was pouring. Her clothes were drenched."
"She just went through a divorce, and her own parents won't take her back. She’s in a terrible mental state. Don't pick a fight over petty things."
Petty things.
Another woman taking over my home was petty.
My bridal nightgown being worn by someone else was petty.
My wedding decorations being destroyed was petty.
Swallowing the bitter lump in my throat, I walked toward the master bedroom.
Before I could touch the door handle, Tara suddenly jumped up, her voice trembling.
"Chloe, I’m so sorry. I didn't know this was your room."
"Julian told me you guys hadn't officially moved in yet, so I thought..."
Before she finished her sentence, tears were already streaming down her face.
Julian stepped forward immediately, blocking her from my view.
"Don't scare her."
"She’s already been through enough today."
Watching him stand protectively in front of Tara made my stomach churn.
Six years ago, when we first started dating, Julian would pull me behind him if a stray dog barked at me on the sidewalk.
Now, he was shielding another woman from me.
I pushed the bedroom door open.
In that single second, the blood in my veins ran cold.
The bedding had been stripped and replaced.
The crimson silk bridal set I had spent weeks picking out was balled up and tossed carelessly onto the bay window seat.
The closet doors hung halfway open, my clothes shoved into a cramped corner.
On the nightstand, our framed engagement photo was gone.
In its place stood an old picture.
In the frame, a twenty-year-old Julian wore a crisp white shirt, smiling brightly at the camera.
Tara stood right beside him, holding a bouquet of daisies.
Their shoulders pressed close together.
Intimate in a way that regular friends never were.
I picked up the frame, turned around, and looked Julian dead in the eye.
"Is this a petty thing, too?"A flicker of guilt flashed across Julian’s face.
Tara hurried in, reaching out to grab the frame.
"Leo found that while playing. He didn't know what it was."
I dodged her hand, my voice dangerously quiet.
"Where did he find it?"
There hadn't been a single trace of Tara’s belongings in this apartment.
For this photo to sit on the nightstand, Julian had to have brought it here himself.
Julian went silent for two beats, then rubbed his temples in frustration.
"Chloe, do you really have to cause a scene tonight?"
"Tara just went through a painful divorce. She’s raising a toddler on her own. She just wanted something familiar around her to feel safe."
"We’re getting married tomorrow. Are you seriously picking a fight over an old picture?"
I gripped the frame so tightly the corners dug painfully into my palm.
So that was it. In his eyes, I wasn't the victim whose boundaries were trampled.
I was the unreasonable, heartless woman throwing a fit over an old photograph.
I placed the frame back onto the nightstand.
"So she’s sleeping here tonight?"
Julian avoided my eyes.
"Leo gets fussy in new places. The guest room is too small; he won't stop crying in there."
A dry chuckle escaped my lips.
"Then where am I supposed to sleep?"
Julian’s mother chimed in without missing a beat.
"Can't you just go back to your parents' place for the night?"
"You're signing the papers tomorrow, and the reception is the day after. We're all about to be family. Stop being so petty and calculating."
I looked at the people standing in my bedroom.
Their faces were calm, completely unbothered.
So natural that it felt as though I were the intruder crashing someone else’s home.
I didn't yell. I didn't scream.
I walked over to the window, gathered my rumpled crimson bedding, and shoved it into a laundry bag.
Seeing me stay quiet, Julian’s tense posture relaxed.
He walked toward me, raising a hand to pat my head.
"Come on, don't be mad."
"I'll pick you up early tomorrow for City Hall, and I'll buy you a brand-new bedding set tomorrow night."
I took a step back.
His hand froze in midair.
I kept my head down and tied the bag shut.
"I left my legal documents in the drawer. I'm taking them and leaving."
Julian let out a breath of relief.
"They're in the top drawer. I kept them safe for you."
I pulled the drawer open.
My documents were there.
Right next to them lay the finalized seating chart for the wedding reception.
The version I had carefully drafted was crossed out and covered in red ink.
The head table seats reserved for my parents had been given to Julian’s distant uncle and Tara’s little family.
My parents had been demoted to Table 2, surrounded by Julian’s extended relatives whom I barely even recognized.
Staring at the paper, my vision blurred with rage.
"Julian, did you organize this, too?"
He blinked, clearly caught off guard.
Julian’s mother strode over and snatched the paper straight from my hands, completely unapologetic.
"I changed it."
"Everyone knows how hard Tara has it right now. What’s wrong with letting her sit at the main table?"
"Your parents are reasonable people. They won't make a fuss over a chair."
I looked up at her.
"They won't make a fuss? Or do you just assume they wouldn't dare?"
Julian’s face darkened.
"Chloe, how dare you speak to my mother like that?"
Those words felt like a needle popping the very last balloon of hope in my chest.
I had been with Julian for six years.
We rarely argued.
Yet every single time an issue involved his family, he never hesitated to take their side over mine.
In the past, I always made excuses for him.
I told myself it was hard for him being caught in the middle.
I told myself marriage required compromise and patience.
I told myself that as long as he loved me, these little indignities would smooth out over time.
But in this exact moment, reality hit me like a slap in the face.
This wasn't compromise.
This was them testing my boundaries, over and over again.
And Julian was the one pushing my limits further and further back.
I zipped my documents into my handbag.
"Fine. I won't say another word."
"As for going to City Hall tomorrow... let's talk about it later."Julian frowned. "What do you mean, 'talk about it later'?"
I didn't answer. I turned on my heel and walked out.
Behind me, Tara’s timid voice drifted through the hallway.
"Julian... maybe I should just go."
"I don't want to ruin things between you two."
Julian’s tone instantly softened.
"Don't overthink it."
"She’s just in a mood. A little sweet talk tomorrow and she'll be fine."
"She’s always easy to placate."
My footsteps paused.
Only for a second.
Then, I pulled the front door open and walked out.
Inside the descending elevator, I caught my reflection in the mirror.
My face was terrifyingly calm.
Calm as if none of that humiliation had just happened to me.
My phone buzzed.
It was a text from Julian.
[Text me when you get home.]
[Don't hold a grudge against my mom. She’s from an older generation, and she can't easily change her ways.]
[I'll sort out arrangements for Tara later. I won't let her stay long.]
I stared at those lines for a long time.
He said "later."
He said "won't stay long."
Yet not once did he ask if I was okay with it.
Not once did he ask if I still wanted to marry him tomorrow.
I didn't reply.
When I arrived back at my parents' house, the living room lights were still blazing.
Mom was sitting on the couch reviewing the vendor schedule. Hearing the door, she looked up with a warm smile.
"Why are you back so late, sweetie?"
"Didn't you say you were staying at the condo to do a final check on everything?"
A sharp ache hit the back of my nose.
Mom instantly set the papers down and rushed over to steady me.
"What happened?"
I wanted to say nothing was wrong.
Yet the moment I opened my mouth, tears spilled over my cheeks.
Dad walked out of the kitchen holding a mug of warm milk. Seeing me in tears, his face hardened.
"Did Julian do something to you?"
I shook my head, then nodded.
In a trembling voice, I recounted every single detail of what had just happened.
When I reached the part about Tara moving into my master bedroom, Mom was shaking with anger.
When I told them about the seating chart, Dad slammed the mug onto the coffee table.
"You are not marrying him."
Mom’s eyes were bloodshot as she took my hands.
"Chloe, think carefully."
"Your father and I aren't forcing you to break up, and we're not trying to stir up drama."
"But getting married shouldn't feel like jumping into a pit of fire."
"If this is how they treat you before the wedding, your life will only be a living nightmare after."
I sat on the sofa, still gripping the folder with my legal papers.
My mind was a complete mess.
Six years of history couldn't simply vanish in an instant.
Julian hadn't always been like this.
He had once braved a midnight thunderstorm to bring me medicine.
He had stayed by my bedside all night when I suffered from severe food poisoning.
He had once held my hand tightly and promised, *Chloe, you are the only woman I will ever marry.*
Those moments were real.
Yet everything that happened tonight was just as real.Tara hadn't appeared out of thin air.
For the past six years, she had lingered between Julian and me like a permanent shadow.
On her birthday, Julian would pick out a gift weeks in advance.
When she was sad, Julian would abandon our dinner dates to walk her through the park.
On the day she got married, Julian got completely hammered, broke down in my arms, and slurred:
"At least someone will take care of her now."
Back then, I asked him if he was heartbroken.
He went quiet for a long time before muttering:
"She’s an old friend. It’s hard to let go."
Later, when Tara filed for divorce, Julian drove through the night to pick her up.
I had a fever of 102 that same day. I called him three times, and he didn't pick up once.
The next afternoon, he showed up at my apartment with soup, looking deeply apologetic.
"Tara was crying on the curb with her baby. I couldn't just abandon her."
I had always believed that basic human empathy was important.
Yet in the end, my empathy was used as a doormat.
Mom squeezed my cold fingers.
"Don't go to City Hall tomorrow."
"Get some sleep. We’ll decide in the morning."
I nodded.
Yet I couldn't close my eyes.
At four in the morning, I sat by the window, unlocked my phone, and pulled up the security camera feed in the condo.
Dad had insisted on installing it right after the renovation, saying a woman living alone always needed safety measures.
Back then, Julian had laughed at him, calling it pure paranoia.
Only now did I realize that cameras weren't just for burglars.
They were meant to reveal the truth about the people you trusted.
On the screen, Tara sat on my bed holding her sleeping son.
Julian was handing her a glass of warm water.
Julian’s mother was rummaging through my walk-in closet.
"This designer dress looks like it'll fit Tara perfectly."
"Chloe has dozens of outfits; she won't notice one missing."
Tara murmured half-heartedly that she shouldn't, yet her fingers were already stroking the silk fabric.
Julian didn't stop them.
He simply sat on the edge of the mattress, looking down at Tara, his voice soft.
"Don't be scared. I'm right here."
Tara suddenly started weeping.
"Julian, are you really signing the marriage certificate with her tomorrow?"
Julian went completely silent.
Those few seconds of silence were brief.
Yet they were long enough to rip away the very last shred of warmth in my heart.
Finally, he spoke. "She waited six years for me. I have to give her closure."
Tara looked up at him through her tears.
"What about me?"
"If I hadn't listened to my mother back then and married the wrong guy, the one standing next to you tomorrow would be me."
Julian hung his head and said nothing.
His mother sighed from the corner of the room.
"What’s the point of dwelling on the past now?"
"Chloe’s family is well-off. The condo is paid off, and the banquet hall is fully booked."
"Julian, go sign the papers first."
"We can settle Tara’s situation slowly down the road."
Staring at the screen, my fingertips turned ice-cold.
They knew perfectly well that what they were doing was wrong.
They just assumed I was a pushover who would swallow it.
Tara sniffled and asked, "What if I don't want to move out?"
Julian reached over and wiped her tears with his thumb.
"Then don't move."
"Chloe is reasonable. I'll handle her."
Tara pressed further:
"What if I can't bear to watch you two walk down the aisle?"
Julian gave a wry smile.
"We can reschedule the ceremony."
"She’ll throw a small tantrum, and then it'll blow over."
"She’s been with me for six years. She can't leave me."
I closed the app.
Dawn was just breaking over the horizon.
I picked up my phone and called the hotel venue to cancel our wedding reception.
I messaged the makeup artist, the photographer, the videographer, and the officiant one by one, apologizing and paying out every single cancellation fee.
Finally, I opened my chat with Julian.
At three in the morning, he had sent me a text:
[Stop pouting.]
[I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow for City Hall.]
I stared at the screen for a long time before typing my reply:
[Don't bother coming.]
[The wedding is off, and we're not signing anything.]
I hit send and flipped the phone face-down on the nightstand.

Chapters (4)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Watch & Promotions

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