After My Fiancé Chose His Mistress, I Married His Rival

I collapsed into my car, clutching my father's damaged knife case to my chest. The tears I'd been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face as I pressed my forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel. Each sob that tore through me carried the weight of dual losses—my father, whose absence still ached like a phantom limb, and the future I'd foolishly built with Christopher.

"Dad," I whispered, running my fingers over the cracked wooden case. "What would you say if you could see me now?"

The knives had been his pride—each one meticulously cared for, each with a specific purpose. He'd taught me to respect them, to understand that good tools were extensions of ourselves. And Christopher had thrown them away like garbage, just as he'd discarded me.

My phone buzzed insistently. James again.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and answered.

"Where are you?" His voice was tight with concern. "It's been over an hour."

"I had to get some things from the apartment," I managed, my voice breaking. "Christopher was there with Anna. They were... they were looking at baby name books."

There was a brief silence before James spoke again, his tone gentler than I'd ever heard it. "Are you okay to drive? I can come get you."

"No, I—" I stopped, looking down at my father's knife case. "He threw away my dad's knives, James. He threw them in the dumpster."

"That son of a bitch," James muttered, genuine anger coloring his words. "Where are you now?"

"In my car. I'll be there soon." I took a deep breath. "About your offer..."

"Yes?" The single word held no pressure, just patient waiting.

"If we do this—and I mean *if*—it's just for tomorrow. One day. To save face. To not let him win." I was thinking aloud now, setting boundaries for my own sanity. "No declarations of love. No commitments beyond salvaging what's left of my dignity."

"Understood," James replied without hesitation. "One day. Your terms."

I ended the call and started the car, my mind racing with the absurdity of what I was considering. Marriage to James Sterling. My childhood rival. The boy who'd once put a frog in my desk in fourth grade. The man who'd always seemed to take perverse pleasure in challenging me at every turn.

But also the boy who'd stepped between me and bullies on the playground. The teenager who'd silently handed me tissues at my father's funeral. The man who'd never, in all our years of rivalry, truly hurt me.

By the time I reached my apartment, it was nearly eleven. I'd texted James that I needed time to think, promising to call him with my final decision before midnight. As I fumbled with my keys, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Olivia Chen stepped out, armed with a bottle of champagne and a bakery box.

"I saw your Instagram post," she said, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Figured you could use reinforcements."

I let her in without a word, collapsing onto my couch as she headed straight for the kitchen, returning moments later with two glasses of champagne and what turned out to be chocolate cupcakes with birthday candles.

"Since it's almost midnight, and tomorrow's your birthday, I figured we could start the celebration early." She lit the candles with practiced efficiency. "Make a wish, birthday girl."

I stared at the flickering flames. "I wish I wasn't such an idiot."

"That's not how wishes work," Olivia chided gently. "And you're not an idiot. Christopher is the idiot." She handed me a glass. "Now, about this mysterious groom swap..."

I took a long sip of champagne before telling her everything—Christopher's call, Anna's pregnancy, the knives in the dumpster, and finally, James's offer.

Olivia's eyes widened. "James Sterling? The same James who challenged you to an impromptu debate in the middle of senior prom?"

"The very same."

"And you're considering it?" She looked incredulous.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Liv," I admitted, cutting into a cupcake with more force than necessary. "But I know I can't face everyone tomorrow with pity in their eyes. I can't let Christopher win."

Olivia studied me for a long moment. "If you're going to do this, you need vows."

"Vows?"

"Yes, vows. Even for a one-day marriage." She pulled out her phone. "Let's rehearse. And then we're packing you an overnight bag, because if you're getting married tomorrow, you're not spending your wedding night alone in this apartment."

As midnight approached, I reached for my phone, James's number already pulled up on the screen. One text could change everything. One decision could transform my humiliation into something else entirely.

My finger hovered over the send button as the clock struck twelve.