On Our Wedding, My Fiancé Mistakenly Pick My Bestfriend

My hand clutched the sheets tightly as a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“Frederick, I’m not going to apologize to Giselle, and definitely won’t go through with any wedding. The moment you betrayed me with her, whatever we had was over.”

Giselle, sensing our argument spiraling, feigned fragility as she clutched Frederick’s arm.

“Freddy, don’t fight with Gracie because of me. I’m not worth it. It’s just a dislocated arm. If it comes to that, I’ll stop playing tennis. I really don’t want to be the reason your wedding is canceled.”

Her words reeled Frederick back in.

He ignored my condition and yanked my arm, trying to drag me up from the bed.

“Apologize to Gracie, and we’ll put all this behind us. You don’t have to threaten me with breaking up. Where would you even go without me?”

“Frederick! Let me go!”

The more I struggled, the tighter his grip became. He hauled me off the bed, completely ignoring the IV still in my hand.

Blood trickled from where the needle had been ripped out, but Frederick didn’t even flinch.

Tears streamed silently down my face, and a choked sob escaped my throat.

“It hurts, Frederick...”

“Apologize!”

When I didn’t respond, his temper snapped. He twisted my arm again, and a sickening crack echoed in the room. Both of us froze.

Moments later, Frederick dashed out and returned with a doctor.

Just like Giselle, my arm was now dislocated.

Frederick stood there awkwardly, guilt flickering in his eyes as he finally spoke.

“You and Gracie are even now. She said she won’t hold it against you. Just... focus on recovering.”

I stared up at the ceiling, vision blurred with tears.

The sound of my heart breaking was louder than my sobs, a sharp, unbearable ache in my chest.

Later, Frederick brought us both back to the villa in the woods.

He claimed he’d make bone broth for our recovery, then left again.

Now, only Giselle and I were left in the villa.

She casually tossed her bag onto the couch and looked around with the arrogance of a hostess.

“This is your first time here, right? Did you know that in the master bedroom upstairs, there are wedding photos of Frederick and me, along with snapshots of every happy moment from our trips? He told me to take them down, but I didn’t want to. Why hide it? Anyway, he only agreed to marry you because you saved his life once.”

I clenched my jaw, using the back of the sofa for support. Her words cut deep, but I didn’t want to believe them.

Frederick had once told me this villa was meant to be our love nest after marriage. Every detail, every piece of décor, had been chosen according to my preferences.

At that time, he had looked at me with eyes full of dreams about our future—and I had believed him.

But now, after losing his memory, he had turned this place into their home.

I followed her numbly upstairs.

The entire aesthetic had changed. Wedding photos of the two of them hung proudly on the walls, alongside candid shots of their daily life.

In the corner stood a small crib.

“Isn’t Frederick ridiculous?” Giselle giggled. “We haven’t even talked about kids yet and he has already set up a nursery next door—and a family activity room for the three of us. Want a tour?”

Every photo, every word she said, shattered another piece of me.

Each step I took felt like walking through knives.

I had never hated Frederick more than I did now. I had never felt such searing heartbreak.

“Whenever Frederick takes me to see his friends, he always encourages me to hang out with their girlfriends. I'm not great at socializing—honestly, I have a bit of social anxiety. They call me 'sister-in-law,' and it always makes me feel a little awkward.”

My eyes were red, ears ringing. Suddenly, everything made sense.

Frederick had never introduced me to his friends. When they visited, he’d send me out for a walk or even book me a hotel room.

He just didn’t want them to know I existed.

“You know, the initials inside the wedding ring? He had them engraved on your birthday.”

No wonder he’d come home drunk that night, just before midnight.

He had brought a small cake and a designer bracelet. I had caught a glimpse of the wedding ring falling out of his pocket and thought he might propose.

But the next morning, he took the ring and left. I had told myself maybe he wanted to surprise me on the wedding day.

I never imagined the ring was meant for her all along.

I stood frozen as Giselle gleefully spilled the truth.

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

“He’s just a man I no longer want. If you want him, keep him. I must’ve been blind to ever think you were a true friend. No—calling you a ‘friend’ is an insult to the word.”