I Helped My Boyfriend Marry His Childhood Sweetheart

From the very beginning, Elsie had been the hidden landmine in my relationship with Charles, ticking silently beneath the surface. Today, that landmine finally detonated, shattering everything we had into irreparable ruins.

After work, I didn’t wait for Charles. I went straight back to the apartment I rented, craving solitude. It wasn’t until almost eight o’clock that he casually sent me a message. [Are you off work yet?]

I didn’t bother replying.

Out of idle curiosity, I opened my social media feed. I stumbled upon Charles’s latest update, a photo of a marriage certificate, glaringly devoid of a caption but brimming with unspoken truths.

The first comment was a heart emoji from Elsie, to which Charles promptly replied with the same symbol.

Mutual friends, oblivious to the truth, flooded the post with congratulations, assuming the certificate marked our marriage. Charles, true to form, stayed silent, neither confirming nor denying their mistaken beliefs.

I clicked the like button, my lips curling into a bitter smile.

Moments later, Astrid messaged me, her curiosity bubbling over. “Congratulations on your sudden marriage! You didn’t tell me today was the big day!”

Her excitement felt like salt on an open wound. I laughed dryly, the sound hollow and explained everything to her. Her response came in a flurry of sympathetic messages peppered with furious venting on my behalf.

"Honestly, I never held high hopes for your relationship with Charles," Astrid admitted.

"This might be a blessing in disguise. Cecile, you deserve far better."

Moments later, my phone buzzed. I assumed Astrid couldn’t resist calling to dig deeper, but when I answered, Charles’s angry voice cut through the line.

"Where are you right now?"

"Why didn’t you let me know after work? Didn’t I say I’d pick you up?"

I held the phone at arm’s length, his frustration grating on my nerves.

"It doesn’t take a genius to know that the civil affairs office doesn’t stay open until eight," I replied coolly. "And since it’s your wedding day, there’s no need to come chasing after me."

There was a pause, a heavy silence on the other end before Charles’s tone softened.

"Where are you staying now? Let me come over. I’ll explain everything; Elsie and I aren’t what you think."

Despite everything, I couldn’t let ambiguity linger. I gave him my address. What I didn’t expect was that he’d show up with Elsie in tow.

The moment she stepped inside, she clung to Charles, her presence practically suffocating. She barely said a word as Charles fussed over her, seating her carefully before bustling around my apartment like it was his own, pouring coffee and fetching water.

"Elsie’s been in a fragile state lately," he began, his tone full of forced concern. "She’s been heartbroken and struggling mentally. The psychologist said she needs constant support to prevent anything irreversible. Marrying her was the only way I could ensure she’d have someone to care for her. Don’t misunderstand; our relationship is strictly platonic."

He glanced at Elsie before turning back to me.

"You wouldn’t believe it. Just because you liked my post, Elsie convinced herself you were upset. She insisted on coming to apologize to you personally."

Elsie coughed softly, her pale face and delicate demeanor painting a portrait of fragility.

"It’s because of my condition that Charles married me," she murmured, her voice trembling just enough to tug at any unsuspecting heartstrings.

"Once I’m better, I’ll return Charles to you."

Despite her frail appearance, her tone carried a subtle, unyielding edge. Her act was convincing, but to anyone truly observing, the cracks in her performance were glaring, except, of course, for those who preferred to turn a blind eye.

I dismissed her offer swiftly.

"There’s no need for that," I said firmly.

Before I could utter another word, Charles slammed the coffee onto the table with a resounding thud.

"Cecile, what’s wrong with you?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Elsie dragged herself here, sick and exhausted, just to apologize to you. And yet you’re still acting dissatisfied. What more do you want from her?"

"Can’t you just let it go? Why do you have to compete with someone who’s ill?"

Charles’s words struck a nerve, but what stung more was the way his every thought revolved around Elsie. His unwavering devotion to her brought back a memory I had long buried.

I recalled the night I was struck by a searing pain in my abdomen while we were having dinner. The agony was so overwhelming that my vision blurred into a haze of white. Desperately, I had hoped he would rush me to the hospital. But then his phone buzzed.

Elsie had argued with her boyfriend and she needed him. Without hesitation, Charles left me sitting there, clutching my side in agony and walked out.

I somehow managed to drag myself to the hospital. By the time I stumbled into the emergency room, I was barely conscious. It wasn’t Charles who helped me; it was a friend who handled the paperwork and stayed by my side.

Not once during my hospital stay did Charles check-in. He never even asked how I was.

Looking at him now, I finally understood. The line between love and neglect had always been painfully clear; I had just refused to see it.

I met his eyes, steady and unwavering, as I spoke the words I had been holding back.

"I never wanted to compete," I said calmly. "There’s no competition here."

"You’re married to her now, so let’s put an end to this."

"I won’t let anyone think I was the one interfering in your marriage."

"Let’s break up."

Charles’s face drained of color, his shock evident as he stared at me, unable to fathom my words.

"It’s not what you think," he stammered, his voice betraying the panic that flickered in his eyes. "There’s nothing between Elsie and me. If you’re jealous, I can marry you too."

I let out a sharp, derisive laugh.

"That would make you guilty of bigamy," I retorted, my tone cold.