What Is The Ending Of Wedding Days: When And How Great Marriages Began?

Alia becomes a single mother of twins at the age of 18 after a one night stand with a mysterious transfer student she never meets again and has no memory of . When she turns 25 , her family decides to marry her off to Drew Jacobs , A business partner who sees the marriage as one of duty because of his father’s close relationship with Alia’s Alia is separated from her kids to be Drew’s wife and she tries her best to please him so he can accept her kids as his and she gets to live together with them again but Drew makes her life, her plan and even the marriage unbearable. He treats her like she is invisible ,he only plays husband in public but in private , she’s like a furniture in his house. It gets worse when a mysterious woman from his past comes to the picture and after two years of trying to make the marriage work, he divorces Alia and Engages his lover Alia disappears for 365 days but after Drew makes a shocking discovery, He must find Alia and her twins and he wants her back but what if another man has met him to the game ?

My fiance, Eric Powell, hopes that I can give up on my spot as a candidate and transfer him the 5% of shares I have in order to become the biggest shareholder in the company. He promises me that once everything is done, he'll host the grandest wedding of the century for me. I accept his conditions. But the next day, I notice his first love, Eunice Decker, posting a share transfer agreement on her social media feed. Eric's name can be seen scrawled on the person who's making the transfer. After a brief moment of shock, I leave a comment. "Now that you've already accepted his proposal gift, when can we attend your wedding?" Eunice breaks down on the spot. Then, she screams about wanting to jump off the 22nd floor. In order to coax her, Eric demands that I delete my comment immediately and apologize to Eunice in front of everyone. He also wants to pay Eunice my three months' worth of salary just to compensate for her mental health. All of my colleagues begin murmuring to each other, hoping to see me humiliate myself on the spot. I let out a cold chuckle. But not only do I apologize to Eunice, but I also take the initiative to transfer the project I'm in charge of to her. Having noted how understanding I am, Eric says to me happily, "I'll definitely make sure that you're the center of the attention in our upcoming wedding that will be held half a month later. On top of that, I'll also reward you with a honeymoon around the globe!" What he doesn't know is that our wedding will never exist the moment he decides to absorb my shares.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

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.

My fiancé was sleeping with my maid of honor. I caught them the night before our wedding. I didn't make a sound. I closed the door, walked back to my bridal suite, and sat at the vanity until my hands stopped shaking. Then I grabbed my keys. At two in the morning I drove forty blocks across Manhattan and knocked on Atlas Marchetti's door. Two years ago I'd told my family I wouldn't marry him. He hadn't said a word about it since. He opened the door in pajama pants. "Marry me tomorrow," I said. He didn't say yes. He poured himself a drink first, listened to everything, and then handed me a piece of paper with terms I should have read more carefully. I signed at dawn. Six hours later I walked down the aisle Carter and I had planned. The Plaza ballroom. The dress I'd chosen in spring. Three hundred guests who came to watch me marry the wrong man. I married someone else instead. Carter watched it happen. He didn't understand yet what he'd lost, and he wouldn't understand for months. Not until he found out who owned the company he ran, and how long Atlas had been bleeding it. I went to Atlas for revenge. He'd been writing this for two years.

I overslept by six hours on my wedding day. By the time I got there, my fiancée, Yvonne Burke, had already gone through the entire ceremony with her ex, Tony Cooke. I stood there, drenched in sweat. Yvonne just smiled and came clean. "I was the one who drugged you. Tony wanted a wedding ceremony. It's not a big deal, so I gave him one." Like she was afraid I'd make a scene, she added, "Be good. Next week, I'll get the marriage certification with you. Besides, throwing a fit now won't change anything. Look—even if he takes off the suit, it still won't fit you." My eyes landed on the groom. The suit he was wearing was the one I'd spent nearly six months picking out. Everyone held their breath, waiting for me to lose it. Instead, I felt a wave of relief. She should've told me sooner. I'd already been having second thoughts. My ex once said that if I ever dared get married, she'd show up in a wedding dress and steal me away. Looks like everything worked out perfectly. We both got what we wanted.