The Bride He Forgot to Love

Elvie pulled a mock-pity face, her lips curling into a pout. “Osmond, that’s so harsh. Girls’ hearts are fragile, you know. Even small comments can sting. Be nicer to Camille.”

“You’re a girl, too, and you don’t get upset so easily,” Osmond shot back with a smirk. “So what’s the big deal? Tsk.”

Elvie stifled a laugh, her eyes glinting as they flicked toward me. She was loving this—her little win over me, and she wasn’t even trying to hide it.

I clenched my jaw but kept quiet. Let her have this, I thought. This wedding—or mating ceremony, whatever—wasn’t for me. It was to honor my mother’s dying wish to see me happy and settled. As for Osmond and whoever he wanted to parade around? I didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

When we got to the boutique, it was nearly empty. A sales assistant greeted us warmly, her eyes lighting up as she approached. But instead of looking at me, the bride-to-be, her attention went straight to Osmond and Elvie.

“What kind of gown are you looking for, miss?” she asked Elvie, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Elvie burst out laughing. “Oh, no, I’m not the bride!” she said, casually pointing at me. “She is.”

The assistant blinked, her face turning red as she turned to me, clearly thrown off by the dynamic. Osmond shifted uncomfortably, but before he could say anything, Elvie grabbed his arm and led him toward the seating area.

“I’ll go take a look,” I said, keeping my tone even as I walked away toward the rows of dresses.

Osmond glanced at me briefly but didn’t say a word, letting Elvie pull him toward the plush couches in the middle of the boutique.

I didn’t waste time. I grabbed the first simple ivory gown I saw, barely glancing at the other options. The sales assistant hesitated, probably confused by my lack of enthusiasm, but I didn’t care. As she led me to the fitting room, I could hear Elvie and Osmond’s laughter echoing through the boutique.

Inside the small fitting room, I stared at my reflection, fighting back the ache building in my chest. Six years. Osmond and I had been together for six years! We used to walk past this boutique, and he’d tease me about how amazing I’d look in a wedding dress someday. He even joked once that seeing me in one might make him cry.

But now, as I stepped out of the fitting room wearing the gown, his reaction was nothing like I’d imagined.

“That’s… kind of plain, isn’t it?” Osmond tilts his head. “You’re gonna be the Luna. Don’t you want something more dramatic?”

I forced a smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I… I like simple.”

Before I could say more, the curtain next to me opened, and Elvie stepped out. She was wearing a fitted, off-the-shoulder gown that shimmered with every move she made.

“Oh my Moon Goddess!” she twirls slowly in front of the mirror. “This dress is EVERYTHING!”

Osmond’s jaw actually dropped. His eyes traveled over her, and for a moment, it was like he’d forgotten where he was—or who he was with.

Elvie smirked, catching his reaction. “What’s wrong, Osmond? Did I surprise you? Be honest—who looks better in their dress, me or Camille?”

He blinked, dragging his gaze back to me awkwardly. “You look… nice,” he said, almost like an afterthought.

Elvie laughed, playfully nudging his arm. “Wrong answer! You’re supposed to say Camille, you dummy!”

Osmond chuckled, glancing at me with a weak attempt at guilt. But the damage was already done. I turned back to the fitting room without saying a word, pulling out my phone to snap a quick picture of the dress for my parents.

By the time I came back out, dressed in my own clothes again, Osmond was standing with Elvie in front of the mirrors. She’d talked him into trying on a suit—a sleek, perfectly tailored one that made him look better than I’d ever seen him.

They were laughing, snapping selfies together. Osmond, who always complained about dressing up, who never once wore anything I picked out for him, was now happily posing for Elvie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The knot in my chest tightened. six years of boundaries, rules, and excuses—none of which seemed to apply when it came to her.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, not bothering to say goodbye.

“Camille,” Osmond called after me, his voice tinged with annoyance. “We don’t have all day for dress shopping. If you don’t like this place, we can go somewhere else.”

I stopped and turned back briefly. “This place is fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll take the dress I tried on.”

He frowned. “You sure? You didn’t even look at the others.”

“I’m sure,” I said firmly.

The truth was, it didn’t matter. We wouldn’t be having a real wedding, anyway. Why waste anymore time?