A Love Worth Saying 'I Do'

Kendall's POV

Astrid coyly buried her head in Marc’s chest, then cast a smug glance my way as she sweetly murmured, "I knew you still loved me, Marc.”

They were lost in their little drama, acting like no one else in the world existed. Their eyes were locked on each other, completely oblivious to the wreckage they’d left behind.

As I watched them walk away, something inside me broke. I sank to the cold, hard floor, tears streaming down my face, blurring the scene before me.

Marc didn’t come back—not that day, not for the next seven. No calls, no explanations. Nothing.

But I didn’t have to wonder where he was. Astrid made sure of that as her social media told the whole story.

Just this morning, she posted another photo: the two of them on a mountaintop, his arm wrapped tightly around her. The caption read, [At my lowest, you brought me to watch the sunrise.]

So, that’s where he’d been. Off traveling with her.

Once, I had asked Marc to watch the sunrise with me, thinking it’d be romantic, something special for the two of us. But every time, he brushed me off, saying he was too busy with work.

Now, here he was, smiling tenderly at her in a photo, the same way he used to smile at me.

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the bitterness rising in my chest, and dialed a number I’d been avoiding.

“Hello,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m ready to move on from Marc and marry you.”

Since Marc left me humiliated at the altar, my family had become the laughingstock of our social circle. Even so, the Stokes family had reached out, offering a way to save face: a marriage alliance.

Dudley Stokes had been patient, knowing I wasn’t ready, but now? Now I was done waiting for Marc to care.

The voice on the other end of the line lit up with excitement. “That’s great news, Kendall! Don’t worry—I’ll never treat you the way Marc did. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

As I ended the call, the door creaked open, and in walked Marc.

He acted like nothing had happened like he hadn’t left me at the altar or ignored me for a week.

Marc came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as if we were still the couple we used to be. “Who were you just talking to?”

There was a time when I loved the feeling of his arms around me and the closeness we shared. But now, the faint scent of Astrid’s perfume clinging to his clothes made my stomach turn.

I pulled away and calmly answered, “Just a telemarketer.”

Just then, the smile on his face faltered and guilt crept into his face. Perhaps he now remembered what he had done at our wedding. Sure enough, he grabbed my hand and apologized, “Kendall. I’m sorry about the wedding. I didn’t mean to leave you like that. It’s just that Astrid has been struggling with depression and I was afraid she might hurt herself if I didn’t go.”

In the past, I might’ve yelled, demanded answers, or let my anger explode.

But not this time.

I simply slipped my hand out of his and nodded. “Mm.”

His excuses sounded hollow, almost laughable, now. Seven days and not even a text. If he’d cared about me, he would’ve found a way to reach out.

Marc shifted uncomfortably, clearly flustered by my silence. He opened his mouth to say more, but his phone buzzed, cutting him off.

He glanced at the screen, and in an instant, his focus shifted. “Hey, Astrid,” he answered, his voice soft and concerned.

“Marc,” she whimpered on the other end, “it’s storming so bad. The thunder’s so loud, and I’m scared. Can you come over?”

Worry flashed across his face and quickly replied, “I’ll be right there.”

Without another word, he turned and rushed out, leaving me standing there—again.

I stared after him, the weight of his absence sinking in. And as I stood in that empty room, a memory I’d long buried rose to the surface.