I Died on His Wedding Day

My heart slammed against my ribcage, and I whipped my head down to hide the panic splintering my expression. When I looked up again, Thomas Vance had already lunged forward, ripping the lookbook from my grasp. His frown deepened at the bloodstain blooming across the pages – and in that moment, I realized his concern was for the booklet, not the blood trickling from my nose.

"I'm sorry... I stained it," my voice shook as I spoke, fingers trembling.

Quinn shoved a tissue into my hand, scolding: "Why worry about that? Miss Winters, do you need a hospital?"

I shook my head, pressing the tissue to my nose. "Just a cold. A little heatstroke – I'll be fine."

I'd never burden my ex with talk of my disease.

Thomas stayed silent, studying my pale face with a furrowed brow. As my cheeks lost all color, I mumbled: "I need to clean up in the restroom."

When I returned, Quinn had changed into a gown – one I'd once said I hated. She twirled before Thomas, beaming: "How do I look?"

He gave a faint nod. "Beautiful."

His eyes were only for her, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. "I have to go," I managed.

"Wait!" Quinn called. "Thomas and I have no friends in Belrith. Will you be my bridesmaid?"

My fingers twitched. "My visa expires soon. I need to go home."

I couldn't stand beside my ex on his wedding day.

Quinn sighed. "What a piHira Jones. Let's meet again."

"Sure," I whispered.

Grabbing my bag, I stumbled outside but couldn't help looking back. Thomas still sat on the sofa, never glancing my way – just like the day he ended things. The automatic doors clicked shut, sealing me into a world without him.

I blinked back tears, dragging myself toward the hotel. Belrith's streets were empHira Jones, but every passerby wore a carefree smile – I'd never felt more out of place. Then I spotted a tavern and walked inside on a whim.

I hadn't drunk in years, thinking alcohol might numb me, but one bottle made me nauseous. As I staggered to pay, I saw a wall of couple photos behind the counter. The bearded owner smiled: "Couples get free drinks if they pose."

I was about to say I was alone when the top photo stopped me cold: Thomas Vance and Quinn Carver, dated 4.21, 2024 – the day before our breakup.

My mind went blank, a chill racing down my spine. The owner kept talking, but I couldn't hear him.

Suddenly a stranger grabbed my arm. "Come home with me," he slurred.

"Let go!" I yelled, struggling as he tried to drag me outside.

Then a fist slammed into the man's face – Thomas stood there, growling: "Leave her alone."

As the stranger fled, Thomas turned to me. "Belrith isn't safe. If you can't take care of yourself, go home. Stop wasting energy."

I stared at him, then whispered: "Thank you... But I'm glad I came here, or you wouldn't have saved me."

"Spit it out," he said flatly.

Tears spilled over. "I didn't know you were with Quinn on 421, 2024."

His gaze darkened. "I cheated. I fell for her while we were still together."

My chest tightened until breathing hurt. I thought I'd moved on, but his ruthlessness still cut deep. "I understand," I bit out, turning to leave.

But at the door, the room spun and I collapsed. Through the haze, I heard Thomas shout my name.

When I woke in a hospital, the white ceiling tiles looked familiar.

Turning my head, I saw Thomas standing by the bed, holding my chart – his face was as cold as ice.