His First Love Stole My Wedding,I Chose Myself and Left

On the day of our wedding photo shoot, Orson Gilbert showed up four hours late.

The wind off the water was strong, and I'd been standing there in a strapless gown since morning, waiting from sunup into the afternoon, my arms gone stiff with cold.

The photographer asked me for the sixth time whether we wanted to reschedule.

I made excuses for Orson. "He's busy. He'll be here any minute."

But I didn't even believe the words coming out of my own mouth.

By evening, Orson finally arrived.

He wasn't alone. A woman climbed out of the passenger seat, his suit jacket draped over her arms.

The woman was Sheila Simmons, the regret of Orson's younger years.

She saw me and seemed to startle. "I'm so sorry. Orson picked me up from the airport. I held everyone up."

Orson settled the jacket over her shoulders and turned to the photographer. "We're losing the light. Let's start."

I thought he meant us. Instead he frowned. "Your makeup's a mess. Let Sheila do a test set first."

Sheila walked over to stand beneath the Old Harbor wind chimes I'd spent six months choosing.

I gripped a fistful of my skirt and heard an assistant beside me murmur, "Honestly, Miss Simmons and Mr. Gilbert have more of a story to them."

Orson didn't argue. He came over and handed me a cup of hot water. "Don't make that face. Today's been exhausting enough."

I looked down at the steam rising off the rim and suddenly remembered what he'd said when he proposed—that from then on, he'd watch every view in the world with me.

But the moment the Old Harbor wind went still, I finally understood. The person he wanted to keep had never been me.

——

By the time the photographer lowered his camera, the sky had nearly gone dark.

Orson stood in front of me, holding out that cup of hot water, holding it there a long time.

I didn't take it. He frowned. "Silvia Harding, your hands are frozen stiff and you're still being stubborn with me?"

I lifted my eyes to him. "The person getting wedding photos taken today—is that me?"

Orson paused, and his tone cooled. "Of course you're the bride."

"Then why is she wearing my veil, standing under the chimes I picked?"

The Old Harbor chimes hung from the white wooden frame on the dock, the shooting location I'd taken six months to settle on.

The night Orson proposed, the sea breeze had passed through chimes just like them.

He'd said, "Every year from now on, we'll come and listen to them together."

I remembered it for two years. He'd forgotten it completely.

Sheila came over, his suit jacket in her arms, her face a little pale.

"Miss Harding, please don't misunderstand. I was only helping with the lighting test. Why don't I just go now."

She started to slip off the jacket as she spoke.

Orson pressed his hand over hers. "The wind's strong. Keep it on."

Then he looked at me. "Sheila just got off a plane. She isn't well. Why are you nitpicking over her?"

I let out a small laugh. "She isn't well, so she gets your jacket. And me? I froze for four hours. What does that make me?"

The line between Orson's brows pressed deeper. "Didn't I buy you hot water?"

I'd waited an entire day, and what I got for it was a cup of hot water from a convenience store.

The rim touched my fingertips. It had already gone cold.

Like his late apology—it came too late to leave behind even a trace of warmth.

Sheila said softly, "Orson, it's only natural for Miss Harding to be upset. After all, she's the one who's going to marry you."

The one. Coming out of her mouth, it sounded like a tactful little reminder.

A reminder of just how tenuous my place really was.

The photographer asked quietly, "Mr. Gilbert, are we still shooting? The light is really gone."

Orson glanced at the sky. "A few more shots to fill it out."

And then he reached out to take my hand. "Come on."

I stepped back without thinking.

Orson's hand froze midair, and his expression turned a few degrees colder. "Silvia, don't make a scene in front of outsiders."

I looked at him. "You think I'm making a scene?"

He lowered his voice. "Today's been held up long enough. If you don't want to shoot, then don't. The wedding goes on as planned."