“Won’t need to attend?” I almost laughed from anger. “Are you telling me that the bride doesn’t have to make an appearance at her own wedding now? Is that what you’re saying?”
As the coordinator opened his mouth to explain, Ethan walked in.
“That was my decision,” he said.
Ethan wore the white suit I had chosen for him, but the bow tie at his collar was not the one I had picked.
Noticing my gaze fixed on his tie, he shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Anna is having surgery in a few days. The hospital has issued a notice that she is terminally ill. She said her only wish is to wear a wedding dress just once.”
I laughed bitterly. “At our wedding?”
I knew about Anna Bedford.
It was during our third year together that I learned Ethan had an ex-girlfriend who had lost all her hair due to chemotherapy.
They were childhood sweethearts from families who were close friends. Even after breaking up, they could not completely cut ties with one another.
Since she was receiving treatment far from home, Anna’s parents had asked Ethan, who lived in the same city, to look after her.
Initially, I had respect and sympathy for her, and felt sad that a young woman in her prime had to suffer such illness.
Even so, my impression of her plummeted when she started having Ethan deliver food to her in the middle of the night after our dates.
I constantly made allowances because she was ill.
Ethan seemed to have his priorities straight, and he had always put my wishes first.
Whenever Anna called him for something, he would report it to me and only go to help on rare and truly urgent occasions. He would even bring me along.
Well, that was until today.
When had Ethan gone with her to try on wedding dresses anyway? And when had he decided to give her the wedding dress I had chosen, allowing her to take my place in our wedding ceremony?
