The Unexpected Groom on the Wedding Day

On my wedding day, everything went haywire. Melisa, the girl my family mistakenly raised as their own daughter, couldn't bear it anymore and went live online. You see, we were swapped at birth in the hospital.

As if that wasn't enough, my almost-husband decided to abandon me right there and then to save her. Her real parents even cut off my foster mom's medical support just to please her. My poor foster mom was clinging to life and there I was, begging my biological brother, who coincidentally was the doctor, to help her. But he was busy fussing over Melisa, pretending she was frail and wounded.

The whole scandal blew up online, with netizens tearing me apart, saying I was some heartless witch blocking Melisa's path. It was too much. So, I faked my death and hightailed it out of the country, leaving only a diary behind. I wanted them all to live with the guilt forever.

***

Today, came the wedding day disaster. The big screen flickered to life, but instead of showing my carefully crafted video, we heard a mournful voice. "Cody doesn't want me anymore. What's the point of my life?"

I froze, my mind racing. It was Melisa—the girl who my wealthy family had raised thinking she was their own. In the video, she sat on the balcony railing, tears streaming down her face. "Today is Cody and my sister's wedding. I should be happy for them, but I love Cody."

"Melisa!" screamed the man next to me in anguish, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be my groom and declaring his undying love for her instead.

My parents in the front row panicked and bolted without a word. Cody looked like he wanted to follow them, but I clung to his sleeve and pleaded, “My parents are already at Melisa’s place. Today’s our wedding—can we at least finish what we started?”

My foster mom just wanted me to be happy. If she found out I was abandoned at my own wedding, it would break her heart. But Cody didn’t seem to care. He slowly pried my fingers off his sleeve, one by one.

It hurt—a sharp pain in both my hand and my heart. “Why are you being so cruel?” he said. “It’s just a wedding, do you think it’s more important than Melisa’s life? She loves me so much she’d die without me.”

He pushed me away without looking back. I fell to the ground, tears blurring my vision, while the mocking voices of the guests echoed in my ears.

To be honest, none of this surprised me. My biological parents only brought me back for Melisa’s sake.

I grew up in a tiny mountain village, where life was humble but happy. Then, at the age of twenty, a stranger showed up at my door claiming the hospital had made a mistake—I was actually the biological daughter of the wealthy Jordan Family.

My foster mother, wanting the best for me, agreed to this marriage.

The day I was supposed to leave, my mom cried so hard she couldn’t get a word out. She pulled out a stack of cash from under her sheets, some crumpled, some neat and counted it over and over with her worn-out hands. Then, she shoved it all into my pockets.

Sitting in the car, torn between leaving my mom and meeting my biological parents, I was filled with a mix of emotions. But instead of heading to my new family, the driver took me straight to the hospital.

There, I met my biological parents who insisted I donate blood to Melisa after her car accident. They argued that if it weren’t for that accident, they wouldn’t have found out about our true identities and I wouldn’t have had the chance to return to the Jordan Family. They expected me to be grateful to Melisa.

They were so afraid I’d refuse that they had two bodyguards hold me down. I tried to explain—I had no problem helping Melisa, she was my mom’s biological daughter after all. But no one listened.

I passed out during the transfusion. Later, I learned that donating 900 cc of blood at once could have cost me my life.

When I woke up, I was alone. My parents and brother were all in Melisa’s hospital room. They didn’t seem to care much about their biological daughter—it was like they had already replaced me.

On the day I left the hospital, I finally came face-to-face with Melisa. I greeted her warmly, but she shied away behind our mom, claiming she was scared. No matter how many times I reassured her, she didn’t trust me. Once, when we were alone, she even accused me of pushing her down the stairs—a complete fabrication.

My parents didn’t bother asking—they punished me by making me stand outside the door all night. It happened to rain that day, each droplet felt like needles, causing me excruciating pain. By the next morning, I had a high fever and felt like I was seeing my mother in a blur.

Returning to the Jordan Family a few days ago shattered all my expectations. Trying to hold back tears, I called my foster mother. She picked up right away, her voice filled with concern, “What’s wrong, Audrey? Are you settling in okay? How are they treating you there?”

Hearing my mother’s worried tone, I felt a pang of regret. “I’m okay, Mom,” I reassured her. “Just missing you.” There was no point in complaining; it would only make her worry and lose sleep over me.