I Ran From Our Wedding Twice

I was finally about to marry the woman I had secretly loved for years, yet I was willing to throw myself off a building just to escape the wedding.

Because I had come back. From a previous life.

In that life, we were married for over twenty years. To everyone else, we were the picture-perfect couple.

But that beautiful illusion shattered violently on our twenty-fifth anniversary.

She killed herself. A double suicide, actually, with the man who had always been the ghost in our marriagethe one she truly loved.

I remember standing before her headstone, the words tumbling from my lips in a dazed murmur:

"Do you regret marrying me?"

I knew there would be no answer from the cold granite. I just spoke my own truth to the wind.

"I regret marrying you."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right before the wedding.

I decided to run.

This time, I thought, lets just be strangers who know each other too well.

I never expected her to find me again. Or that she would look so fragile, so entirely hollowed out by illness, and say to me:

"I never regretted marrying you. Not in this life, not in the last. You were always the only one I ever wanted to marry."

When I opened my eyes, someone was clapping me on the shoulder.

Through the haze, I saw the grand double doors swing open. Sandywho had been dead for ten yearsstood on the stage in her wedding dress, bathed in a spotlight that made her look like a terrifyingly flawless angel descending to earth.

The gasps from the audience swelled, loud enough to drown out the string quartet. Everyone was marveling at the brides beauty.

A cold sweat broke across my skin.

Someone nudged me, whispering that it was my cue to walk toward her. It was a dramatic entrance I had specifically requested the first time around.

But now, I just stared at Sandy from across the room.

The corners of her lips curved into a smile. And with absolute certainty, I turned on my heel and sprinted toward the exit.

"The wedding is off. I am not marrying her."

The ballroom erupted into instant chaos.

The hotel was massive, a labyrinth of velvet and crystal, and in my panic, I couldnt find the right doors.

Sandys friends and family surged after me.

My soon-to-be father-in-law cornered me, his face tight with anger, his brow deeply furrowed.

"Carter, the ceremony has started. Stop this nonsense right now. Get back out there."

I shook my head, hard.

I couldn't believe I had actually been reborn, let alone dropped right into the middle of my own wedding day.

But since whatever powers that be had given me a second chance, I was absolutely not going to chain myself to Sandy again.

A relative gripped my arm, pleading, "Whatever it is, we can sort it out after the vows. Sandy is waiting for you."

What? Sandy is waiting for me?

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of white silk cutting through the crowd.

It looked less like a bride and more like an executioner coming for my head.

I didn't hesitate. I shoved open a nearby window. We were on the third floor, but I threw myself out, praying the canvas awning below would break my fall.

It did, mostly. But when I scrambled to my feet, a sharp, white-hot pain shot up my spine.

Still, compared to the agonizing ache of being deceived by Sandy for over two decades in my past life, this physical pain was nothing.

Clutching my side, I began to limp away as fast as I could.

Heads poked out of the hotel windows, faces pale with shock.

"Carter, you're insane! You're actually running away!"

Sandy was among them. For a second, a flicker of genuine panic crossed her face.

"Carter, what are you doing? If you leave... what about our wedding?"

If I were the man I had been in my previous life, I never could have done this.

But now?

"Sandy, deciding to marry you was the biggest mistake of my life. Im fixing it."

"RememberI'm the one walking away from you."

I didn't stick around to see her reaction. I hailed a cab and sped off, leaving the wreckage behind.

I knew better than anyone that her pristine white gown wasn't meant for me.

She never wanted to marry me.

The memories rushed back, suffocating me. I remembered rushing to the police station in the dead of night.

The officer had looked up from his notepad and asked:

"Sir, did you know anything about the man your wife, Sandy, committed suicide with? A Mr. Julian Vance?"

I remembered the crushing weight of confusion and helplessness in that room.

I had spent twenty years of my past life trying to understand that woman, and I had failed.

I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

To escape the inevitable fallout, I used my bruised ribs and sprained ankle as an excuse to check myself into the hospital.

My phone wouldn't stop vibrating. The calls weren't from people checking on me; they were from people wanting to tear me apart.

The texts painted a clear picture.

[Carter, how could you do this to Sandy?! She collapsed from crying! You need to get here and beg for her forgiveness right now!]

I tossed the phone aside, unimpressed.

There was no way Sandy was heartbroken over me running away. She was probably thrilled.

In this life, she and that Julian guy could finally have their epic, star-crossed romance. She should be thanking me.

Hell, they owed me a fruit basket.

I was busy enjoying this thought when the door to my hospital room burst open.

My parents stormed in, their faces flushed with rage.

"Carter Harrison, have you lost your damn mind?! A runaway groom? Jumping out of a window? Who are you trying to humiliate?!"

I hadn't expected them to track me down so quickly. My bravado evaporated, and I instinctively pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my chin.

"Stop yelling, I'm already in the hospital," I whined, holding up my bandaged arm in a pathetic attempt to elicit some parental sympathy.

They just scoffed.

"You brought that on yourself. Sandy is in the hospital too, because of you. You need to take responsibility."

Ah. So that was why they got here so fast.

I had to hand it to herSandy was fully committing to the performance. A fainting spell was the perfect way to deflect any suspicion that she wanted out of the wedding just as badly as I did.

My parents weren't done. They laid down the law:

"As soon as you're discharged, you are going to reschedule the wedding with Sandy."

"No. I'm not."

My absolute refusal threw them off.

After all, my marriage to Sandy was something I had begged for.

I had transferred to her high school in our senior year, fallen in love with her at first sight, and spent the next five years quietly pining for her.

It wasn't until her family's real estate development firm hit a massive financial crisis that her parents approached mine, floating the idea of an alliance through marriage.

When I heard, I was ecstatic. I had practically waged war on my own parents to get them to agree to the bailout and the wedding.

And now, I was acting like a completely different person.

They couldn't process it.

"Why?"

The voice asking the question wasn't my mother's.

My parents stepped aside. Sandy was standing in the doorway. She had traded her Vera Wang gown for faded hospital scrubs.

She had always been slender, but now she looked terrifyingly frail. She looked like a strong gust of wind from the air conditioning vent might snap her in half. For a split second, an involuntary pang of sorrow hit my chest.

She kept her eyes locked on mine and asked again, her voice trembling:

"Why don't you want to marry me?"

I hardened my jaw, forcing the pity down.

"Because I don't love you anymore."

The words hit her like a physical blow. It was as if all the strings holding her up had been cut. She crumpled to the linoleum floor, out cold.

My parents shot me a venomous glare before shouting for a nurse and helping carry Sandy back to her room.

For a wild, stupid moment, I wanted to follow them. But I dug my nails into my palms and stayed put.

I just couldn't figure it out. When did Sandy get so weak?

Was she really this dedicated to the act?

After that, my parents were so furious they refused to visit me.

One of my buddies, however, dropped by and gave me a thumbs-up.

"Man, you are savage. You completely wrecked her. But seriously, didn't you worship the ground she walked on? You chased her for years. Why bail at the finish line?"

I waved him off casually.

"The thrill of the chase was gone. It got boring."

"Well, then, I guess it's my turn to chase you."

I looked up. Sandy was standing in the doorway again, already discharged, offering me a soft, tentative smile.

"I don't want you here," I said, my voice deliberately flat.

She didn't flinch. She just walked in, carrying an insulated thermos, and calmly began pouring soup into a bowl.

"I made some bone broth. You should eat while it's hot."

My friend, sensing the sudden drop in room temperature, muttered an excuse and bolted.

Leaving me alone with Sandy.

I kept my expression entirely closed off.

Sandy brought the bowl over, her tone coaxing, like she was talking to a stubborn child.

"Just smell it. It's really good."

The familiar, rich scent hit me.

In my past life, for over twenty years, we were the couple everyone envied.

Even I believed it.

She was thoughtful, in her own way. She was always tied up with work, constantly missing holidays and anniversaries, but she would always apologize profusely. Shed bring me giftsthings I genuinely loved, things I had only mentioned in passing.

Sandy, the heiress who had never touched a frying pan, actually took cooking classes. Whenever she was home, she cooked. She told me she was worried about my stomach issues, so she learned how to simmer all kinds of broths.

This bone broth was my absolute favorite.

I used to think it was proof that she loved me. But later, I found out the truth.

The memory turned my stomach. The soup didn't smell good anymore.

I turned my head away.

"I don't want it. And I don't want to look at you. Get out."

Sandy bit her lip so hard I thought it might bleed. She was shaking. It took her a long moment to force a frail, devastatingly sad smile.

"If you don't have an appetite right now, I'll just leave it here. Drink it when you're hungry."

I didn't want to hear her voice. I pulled the blanket over my head and shut my eyes.

She didn't leave right away. I could hear her moving quietly around the room.

It wasn't until I heard the door click shut that I peeked out.

She had tidied my room. She had even arranged a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand, right in my line of sight.

I scoffed.

"She really is a fantastic actress."

For the next few days, Sandy showed up like clockworkmorning, noon, and nightalways with meticulously prepared meals.

I never touched a single bite.

I ignored her completely.

So, she busied herself making the sterile hospital room feel like home. She rearranged things until the room carried a haunting, subtle resemblance to our bedroom from my past life.

It only made me feel more suffocated.

The second she left one afternoon, I demanded my discharge papers.

I was going home.

But I had underestimated her.

I had barely dropped my bags in the hallway when Sandy walked through the front door.

She was hovering over my parents on the sofa, massaging my mother's shoulders with practiced ease.

"Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, if your shoulders are ever bothering you, just let me know. I can come over anytime to help."

My parents spotted me coming down the stairs. My mom waved her over to me.

"Carter just got out of the hospital. Why don't you help him relax a bit?"

Sandy looked at me immediately, her eyes bright with a hesitant, desperate hope.

It was obvious. My parents had sold me out.

I understood why they suddenly adored her. Before I knew the truth about Sandy, I had been completely taken in by her gentle, attentive facade too.

But what was her endgame here?

I rubbed my temples, frustrated, and then it hit me. Her familys firm. They needed our capital to stay afloat. She was probably terrified that my stunt at the wedding meant we were pulling the funding.

She was overthinking it. In my past life, after her familys company survived the crisis, it had exploded in value.

It was a brilliant investment. We weren't going to lose money.

Once I rationalized it, I looked at her differentlynot as a runaway bride, but as a business asset. My glare softened slightly.

Seeing the shift in my demeanor, my mom gave Sandy a gentle push in my direction.

Sandy stumbled. She was so off-balance she practically drifted toward me like a falling leaf.

I caught her on reflex. Beneath the fabric of her sweater, she felt horrifyingly thin. She was practically weightless, all sharp angles and brittle bones, as if holding her too tightly would shatter her.

I frowned deeply.

She looked up at me, her cheeks flushed, a raw, undeniable joy illuminating her face.

It irritated me. I pushed her away, a little too roughly.

She swayed before catching her balance, but she was still looking at me with that damn happy expression.

Even my parents were giving me knowing, exasperated looks.

Like they thought I was just playing hard to get.

I couldn't stay in this house.

"I have plans. I'm not staying here tonight."

I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

Sandy jogged after me, relentless.

Wherever I went, she followed.

When I reached my car, she actually reached for the passenger side door handle.

My patience snapped.

"Stop. Can you just leave me alone?!"

My voice echoed in the driveway, loud and harsh.

Sandy froze, looking genuinely terrified. Her shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably.

Seeing her look so frail only fueled my frustration.

"I know what this is about. You need the capital. Don't worry. Even if we don't get married, I'll still make sure the firm invests. Are you satisfied? If you are, then leave."

When she didn't move or speak, I got in the car, slammed the door, and floored it.

In the dim, neon-lit VIP room of a downtown club, guys I barely knew were already treating my life like a spectator sport.

"Carter, man, that was legendary. You had the prom queen eating out of the palm of your hand and you just ditched her at the altar."

"I told you guys, Carters not a simp. He was just playing the long game to put Sandy in her place. She is so humiliated right now."

"She deserves it. Remember how stuck-up she used to be? Looking down on guys like us who just want to have a good time. Look who got played now."

Listening to them mock her, it dawned on me that my running away had turned Sandy into a punchline.

The untouchable golden girl had been shattered, and now everyone felt entitled to kick the pieces.

I didn't join in. I just sat in the corner, quietly drinking my whiskey.

The next morning, I stumbled through the front door, head pounding.

My parents were waiting for me in the living room, looking furious.

"You are spiraling, Carter. Out drinking all night? Sandy is a wonderful girl, and you threw her away like garbage. Youwere the one who begged to marry her."

"We are not letting this go. You owe us an explanation today."

Their anger cut through my hangover.

They were right. I was the one who had forced it.

It took living an entire lifetime of misery to realize that you can't force someone to love you.

...

The memory of the night I heard about Sandy's death clawed its way back to the surface.

It was our twenty-fifth anniversary. The day before, for the first time in our marriage, I had drawn a hard line.

I didn't ask for muchjust that she come home to celebrate with me. Because that day also marked exactly thirty years since I had fallen in love with her.

"If you don't come home tomorrow, we're getting a divorce."

That's what I told her.

To Sandy, a threat like that must have sounded laughable.

That night, I sat at our reserved table in the restaurant, a knot of anticipation in my stomach. Instead of Sandy, I got a phone call.

I hung up and drove like a madman to the police precinct.

"Are you Sandy's husband?"

The detective had confirmed my ID, his eyes heavy with a sickening kind of pity.

He told me she was dead. Suicide. And she hadn't died alone. She was found with a man named Julian Vance. They called it a lovers' pact.

"Sir, did you know anything about the nature of your wife's relationship with Mr. Vance?"

It was the first time I had ever heard the name.

I just shook my head, entirely numb.

I didn't find out who Julian Vance was until Sandy's funeral.

Her best friend had collapsed next to the casket, sobbing hysterically.

"If I had known you were still so in love with Julian, I would have dragged you away from Carter if it killed me."

That was how I found out. Julian was an upperclassman she had dated in college.

They had never stopped seeing each other. Every holiday, every anniversary Sandy was "too busy" to celebrate with me, she had been with him.

At the end of the funeral, I was the only one left. I stood alone in front of her grave.

"Sandy," I whispered. "Do you regret marrying me?"

The stone was silent, but I already knew the truth.

"I regret marrying you, too. If I could do it all over again, I would never, ever come near you."

The memory grounded me. The fog in my head cleared, and I looked steadily at my parents.

"I can't marry her. I can't give you the exact reason why. But I promise you, I will make sure her family gets the funding they need."

My mother finally let out a long, defeated sigh.

"You're going to regret this. Fine. Were done trying to control you. Do whatever you want."

I went upstairs and slept for twenty-four hours straight. When I finally felt human again, I texted Sandy, telling her to meet me at my office.

She arrived quickly. She had clearly spent hours getting ready.

Her hair was styled in soft, careful waves. She wore a simple, elegant white sundress. She looked like she was showing up for a date.

"Carter, it's been a while since you asked to see me," she said, a shy, almost girlish smile playing on her lips.

I tossed a folder onto the glass coffee table between us, keeping my voice strictly professional.

"I know your family needs the sixty million. Sign this contract, and the money is yours. But in exchange, I want you to stop contacting me."

Sandy looked down at the folder. She didn't move.

"Hurry up," I urged. "I'm giving you exactly what you want. Don't push your luck."

When she finally looked up, her eyes were brimming with tears. Her jaw tightened, and she threw the contract back at me. Then she closed the distance between us, grabbing the lapels of my jacket, forcing me to look her in the eye.

"Carter, I don't give a damn about the investment! I only ever wanted you! How much more obvious do I have to be?"

The tears spilled over, hot and fast. She balled her fists and hit my chest, though there was no real strength behind it.

"We were married for over twenty years. Just because you came back doesn't mean you get to bully your wife like this. You were never this cruel to me in our past life..."