Does My Tuxedo Look Good on Him?

Maybe the air-conditioning in the lounge was set too low, but the more I dwelled on the thought, the colder I felt right down to my bones.

When Hannah reached for my hand, I pulled away and looked her dead in the eye. "Get my suit back. I don't want Lucas wearing it."

She frowned. "Don't start, Jasper. It's just a ceremony, and we can always have another."

The slight downturn of her lips and irritation in her eyes stung deep.

"Even if the suit doesn't matter, why do you have to be the bride for the wedding?" I snapped back.

Was he just a terminally ill man abusing his illness to make unreasonable demands, or had she simply been waiting for an excuse?

Perhaps my words struck a nerve because something in Hannah's expression darkened. She shook me off, lifted her gown, and walked toward the door.

Before she left, she tossed some harsh words over her shoulder. "Being with you is exhausting. You're too controlling, you never consider my feelings, and you always have to make things ugly."

Was I the one not considering her feelings and being controlling?

The click of the door locking snapped me back to reality.

A spike of panic shot through my chest as I rushed forward and kicked the door hard. "I won't agree to any of this! I've been looking forward to it and planning it for so long, Hannah. It's not just a wedding—"

Her annoyed voice came through the door. "Stop being so cold-blooded, Jasper. He's literally dying, so can't you just give him this one thing?"

Just because he was dying and sick, I had compromised for years. And now, I was being asked to hand over my wedding and bride.

However, I didn't cause his illness, so why was I paying the price?

I gripped the door handle and calmed down. "Think carefully, Hannah. Don't regret this later."

There was a pause outside the door before the sound of firm, determined footsteps faded away.

I slid down against the cold door, feeling completely hollow. Lucas had actually done it. He had successfully ruined my wedding.

That was when my phone on the table rang urgently with a call from my parents. It cut off before I could answer.

The lounge was right behind the main hall, separated by a single door. I could hear the rising noise, shocked gasps, and murmurs, then applause guided by the emcee.

Another video came from Lucas' account. The camera was aimed at the giant screen, displaying all the photos Hannah and I had taken with such care, but they were AI-edited. My face was replaced with his.

The perfect spots Hannah and I had hunted under the scorching sun, the long days of aching backs and sore feet, and the hours spent adjusting poses for the best shot, ended up being tailored for Lucas.

The video hurt more than anything Hannah had said.

Though my hands were shaking with anger, I still clicked on the next video. It showed Hannah walking toward Lucas under the spotlight.

Behind her, I saw my parents in the shadows behind the stage. Their expressions were grim as they searched everywhere for me, only to be held in place by two security guards.

Even as a man, seeing that broke me down. My tears finally hit the screen and dripped onto my parents' faces.

I had picked the wrong woman, but my parents shouldn't have to suffer this humiliation with me.

I stopped watching the rest of the video.

While celebration roared on the other side of the wall, my thoughts finally cleared. I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, then took off the ill-fitting suit and put my clothes back on.

All I could feel was relief. At least I saw the truth of our relationship before we even signed the marriage papers.