On Our Wedding, My Fiancé Mistakenly Pick My Bestfriend

I stood at the doorway, each word from Frederick stabbing into me like a slow, torturous death.

Just as I was about to retreat, trying to escape this nightmare, Giselle spotted me through the crack in the bedroom door.

The door was suddenly flung open from the inside.

She stood there in a messy silk nightgown, thick gauze wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes landed on my disheveled, tear-stained face, and her lips curled into a scornful smile.

“I thought there's a thief,” she sneered. “Turns out it was just you. Not a single sound at all. Tsk. I didn't know you had a habit of eavesdropping.”

Frederick emerged moments later, wearing just one slipper, and a trace of panic in his expression when he saw me. But once our eyes met, he looked away, unsure what to say.

“If you’re not busy, go make dinner for Gracie,” he mumbled.

Perhaps he noticed how pale I looked because he coughed awkwardly and added, “Never mind. I’ll have someone deliver food instead.”

But Giselle wasn’t having it. She clung to Frederick’s arm, pouting and swaying slightly, pretending to be upset.

“No, I want Gracie to cook. I love her cola chicken wings. Just think of it as her way of apologizing to me. If she makes them, I’ll forgive her for scratching me.”

Frederick glanced at me, clearly unwilling to argue with her. He gave in with a gentle smile, the kind he used to give me.

“You heard her. Gracie only wants to eat what you cook. She’s always been kind, and she’s your best friend—you know her. Just making dinner isn’t a big deal. This is the most tolerance she’s willing to show.”

I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white, anger clouding my mind.

Frederick only cared about Giselle—her mood, her whims, her pain. Yet he completely ignored mine. Even now, I stood right outside their bedroom door, clearly having heard everything. Still, he acted like it didn’t matter.

“If she wants to eat, she can cook for herself,” I snapped. “Giselle, how shameless do you have to be to ask me—the woman you betrayed—to cook for you?”

My chest rose and fell violently as I turned my fury on Frederick.

“I can’t believe the man I loved became someone this disgusting after losing his memory. Maybe I never truly knew you. Frederick, tomorrow I’ll make the divorce public. We’re over.”

His brows drew tightly together, clearly not expecting me to be so direct.

“Gracie, don’t forget—I bought this villa for you when we got engaged. I’ve already told my friends, my family, even business partners. And now you just want to end it? Do you know how much I’ll have to clean up after you? My company is about to go public! Didn’t you say you loved me? Why are you trying to ruin me at the most critical moment?”

He let out a cold snort.

“And don’t forget—you’re just an orphan. Without me, where would you go? I could ruin your career with just one sentence.”

My blood boiled. I pointed at the swollen, raw scar on my face, tears threatening to spill again as I stared into his eyes.

“See this scar? The Frederick I loved would never have ignored it. You’re not him—you’re just a backstabbing, disgusting liar.”

With that, I pushed past him and stepped into the bedroom.

I looked around the once-familiar space—our wedding room. All the photos of him and Giselle were gone, or probably hidden. But I knew they had been here. I had seen them.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Still trying to fool yourself, Frederick? Do you really think I haven’t seen the wedding photos you took with Giselle? The sunrise hike, the mountaintop, the aurora, the beach vacation—those were all places you promised to take me. And don’t think I didn’t notice the baby crib in the corner. This is what you call preparing for our wedding?”

“We’ll talk about this later. You’re clearly exhausted and imagining things,” he said, grabbing my arm.

Before I could react, he forced me down the stairs and shoved me into the guest room. He locked the door behind me, then left with Giselle.

He said they'd bring food back after dinner.

Fortunately, he hadn’t taken my phone.

With trembling hands, I dialed a number I had saved for a long time.

“Senior,” I said, voice shaking. “Do you remember the promise you made to me on the cruise? Does it still count?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “If you’re ready to leave, I’ll pick you up. Has Frederick agreed?”

“We’re getting divorced. His opinion doesn’t matter anymore,” I said flatly.

“Then let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”

I had gotten my passport six months ago, but I never used it, hoping we'd finally take that long-overdue trip.

But instead, I found photos of Frederick and Giselle traveling together—right there, displayed on the clock in that bedroom.

All the places he once promised to take me... he went with her.

Now I would go on my own.

After hanging up, I called the fire department and told them I had accidentally locked myself in the room and couldn’t get out.