The Bride Was Not Me
I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress.
I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child.
The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request.
The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope.
"This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here."
I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name.
The church in C