He Made Me the Bridesmaid, So I Left Him at the Altar

The veins on Luca's forehead bulged. His thumb dragged once along the scar at his jaw, slow, deliberate, as if reminding himself he still got to decide how the story was told. His face darkened with visible anger.

I suddenly remembered that he had once looked at Serafina the same way. Back then, he had called her vicious. He had said that anyone who could destroy another person's future was unforgivable.

Now, that same fury was aimed at me.

"She can't play the piano anymore either," he snapped. "Do you really have to be this cruel?"

His eyes were full of disappointment, even disgust.

"I don't want a wife the families see as heartless. If you keep clinging to hatred like this, no wonder you don't have anyone left."

The words struck harder than any slap.

For a moment, I could not even breathe.

So this was how he saw me now. A cold, petty, friendless woman who refused to let go. And Serafina, the woman who ruined my hands and destroyed my dream, had become the pitiful victim who merely made a "mistake."

I looked at his face, at the disgust he no longer bothered to hide.

How had I never seen it before? Or had I seen it, but refused to believe it?

The man who once promised to protect me with his life was gone. The Luca who had stood by my side, who had hated Serafina with me, who had held my trembling hands and told me I would still have a future, no longer existed.

All that remained was a stranger wearing his face.

The pain in my abdomen suddenly intensified. My vision blurred. My knees gave way, and I collapsed.

Luca reacted quickly and caught me before I hit the ground. His grip was hard, automatic, the reflex of a man trained to catch falling things before they shattered on the pavement. Only then did he finally notice the blood staining my dress.

For one brief second, his expression changed.

But the softness that appeared on his face was not understanding. It was a careless assumption.

"Now I get it," he said, his tone easing slightly. "You're acting like this because you're on your period, aren't you?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

He continued, as if he were being generous. "Fine. I won't force you to make peace today. But next time, don't be so unreasonable."

The pain tore through me so fiercely that I could barely speak. I clutched his sleeve with trembling fingers and forced out a whisper.

"Take me to the hospital…"

But Luca still thought I was only suffering from cramps. He frowned and turned toward the car, rummaging around for painkillers.

At that moment, Serafina suddenly knelt in front of me.

Her eyes were red, tears falling perfectly down her pale face. Her fingers smoothed the front seam of her dress three quick times, precise and practiced, flattening the performance into place.

"I'm sorry, Bianca," she said, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to make you so angry."

She looked so fragile. So guilty. So pitiful.

But before she could finish her performance, Luca rushed back and pulled her up in a panic.

"Why are you kneeling to her?" he scolded, though his tone was painfully gentle.

Then he turned to me. The tenderness vanished from his face. His voice became sharp again.

"Bianca, haven't you caused enough trouble today?"

He looked at me as if I were the cruel one.

"You don't want her to curse herself by kneeling to you, do you?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The pain had swallowed my voice.

Serafina leaned weakly into Luca's arms, her face pale as if she were about to faint. And just like that, Luca panicked. The same way he had once panicked for me. Only this time, it was for her.

He lifted her into his arms without hesitation.

Then he ran. He ran through red lights to rush Serafina to the family clinic.

And I was left behind.

I lay on the cold ground, curled in pain, surrounded by noise, dust, and silence. The soldier who had been standing three paces behind was gone. He had followed Luca. Of course he had followed Luca.

No one came back for me. No one heard me call for help.

By the time I was finally taken to the emergency room, my body was nearly numb from pain. The discreet family physician examined me and told me I needed to be admitted immediately to protect the baby.

Baby.

That word made my fingers curl against the bedsheet.

Out of habit, I reached for my phone and dialed Luca's number. Only after the call connected did I realize what I had done. Even now, after everything, my first instinct in pain was still to look for him.

How pathetic.

Fortunately, he did not answer. The ringing ended in silence.

And in that silence, something inside me finally settled.

After ten years of love, Luca and I had finally become strangers.

I lowered the phone slowly and looked at the doctor. I pressed my thumb to the pulse inside my wrist until my breathing steadied. When I spoke, my voice was calmer than anyone in that room expected.

"No need to save it," I said.

"I want the surgery today."

When I woke up after the procedure, the world was quiet. My abdomen felt empty. My heart felt even emptier.

My uncle had already arranged my plane ticket. The flight was scheduled for the day of Luca's alliance ceremony. Seven days. Just seven days left.

Enough time to pack. Enough time to disappear. Enough time to bury the last ten years of my life.

Luca was right about one thing. People had to move forward.

From this moment on, I would cut myself away from everything that had once belonged to him. The love. The pain. The promises. The child. All the happiness I had imagined. All the suffering I had endured.

I would leave it all behind.

And this time, I would not look back.