He Chose Her, He Lost Me
“Chloe, are you sick?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “You know how Ava feels about Caleb. What is all this? This whole spectacle, just to rub it in her face?”
My fiancé, Caleb, stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his face a mask of cold indifference.
“I’ll give you two choices,” Caleb said, his voice low and steady. “One, you walk down that aisle in the stained dress and we get this over with.”
He paused, letting the cruelty of it sink in.
“Two, you go to Ava right now and apologize. You fix what you broke, you make her feel better. If you can manage that, I’ll tell everyone the wedding is postponed.”
I didn’t choose either.
I chose a third path. I walked out in that ruined gown, stood before our family and friends, and I called off the wedding.
My brother, my fiancé, my sister… I was done. I wanted none of them.
But later, long after I had left, I heard the stories. The heirs to Northwood’s two most powerful families had lost their minds. They were scouring the globe, trying to hire the world’s most brilliant designers, all for one impossible task: to repair a wedding dress stained with wine and memory.
1
When Ethan burst into the suite, I had just finished putting on the dress. It had been my mother’s final design, the one she poured the last of her strength into, a masterpiece I had treasured for a decade.
I hadn’t even had a chance to see myself in the mirror before the man who shared my face kicked the door open.
“Chloe, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “I warned you! How many times did I tell you not to go through with this circus?”
He stomped toward me, his face contorted. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her? Ava’s been crying her eyes out all morning because of you. Is this what you wanted?”
His words were a physical blow. The flicker of joy I’d felt seeing him, just for a second, died. Of course. It was always about Ava.
The weight of the dress, the intricate beading and layers of silk, suddenly felt like a cage. It was my wedding day. A day for peace, for promises. Not for this.
I took a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I wouldn’t trade insults with him, not today. “Ethan, can we please not fight?” I said, my voice quiet. “Not today. It’s my wedding day. I just want to be happy.”
His face darkened. “Happy?” He took another step, invading my space. “Can you stop being so selfish for one second? It’s just a wedding. Is it more important than Ava’s feelings?”
He was practically pleading, but there was an edge of accusation in his tone that made my skin crawl. “She is so fragile, Chloe. She’s heartbroken, but she still wanted to wish you and Caleb the best. All she asked—the only thing she asked—was for you to tone it down. A small family dinner would have been perfect. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?”
His entitlement, his complete blindness to my own feelings, made my hands tremble. The carefully constructed calm shattered. “The person getting married is me,” I shot back, my voice rising. “What is so wrong with me wanting a real wedding? Who cares if Ava is sad? Why am I the one who always has to pay for her emotions?”
“Don't you talk about her like that!” he roared. “Ava is your sister! It’s your job to look out for her, to be the bigger person!”
A hot, dizzying rage washed over me. “She is your sister, not mine! My mother only had one daughter!”
“Shut up!”
The cold liquid hit my face first, then cascaded down my hair, a river of dark red over the pure white silk of my dress.
For a second, we both froze. The world went silent.
Ethan looked down at the empty wine glass in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. The rational part of him seemed to flicker back to life, his hand starting to shake.
“Chlo… Chloe, I didn’t—”
He fumbled for a napkin on the vanity, scrambling to wipe my face, but I flinched away.
I was numb. Like a ghost in my own body, I looked down at the ugly, dark stain blooming across the bodice of my mother’s last gift to me. Wine was still dripping from the ends of my hair. Ethan, probably realizing how pathetic this looked, tried again, pressing the napkin to my forehead.
“Honestly, Ethan, why bother?”
A new voice, laced with contempt, cut through the tension. Caleb was still in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cruel smirk on his face. I saw then that he wasn't even wearing his tuxedo.
He had on a casual jacket over a white t-shirt. On the chest was a faded, hand-painted sun—Ava’s birthday gift to him last year.
2
He tilted his head, a soft, mocking laugh escaping his lips as he took in my ruined appearance.
“You really thought you could pull this off, didn’t you, Chloe?” he said, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You thought charming my parents meant you could control my life? Dream on. You can play all the games you want, but you’ll never be half the woman Ava is.”
The pure hatred in his eyes was almost comical. Our families had been planning this since we were kids. Not once, not a single time, had he ever said he didn't want it. Even after he started orbiting Ava, treating her with a tenderness he never showed me, he never once mentioned breaking the engagement.
The wedding had been his parents’ idea. They were tired of waiting.
When Ava heard the news, she’d thrown a fit, refusing to eat. Ethan and Caleb had been beside themselves with worry, both of them ignoring my calls to comfort her.
The last time I’d managed to get Caleb on the phone, I’d asked him straight out: “Caleb, do you even want to marry me?”
There was a long silence. Then, in the background, I heard Ava’s tearful voice, small and wounded. “Caleb? Who is that? Is it… is it Chloe?”
He’d finally snapped. “God, this is so annoying. It’s been decided, okay? What’s the point in asking? Just stop calling me!”
His father had assured me everything was fine. He would handle the arrangements, and he would talk to Caleb.
Looking at him now, I realized what “talking to Caleb” meant. His father must have laid into him, and this was his petty revenge.
A dry laugh escaped my lips. I took the napkin from Ethan’s limp hand and calmly wiped the wine from my face.
“Chloe! Chloe, is Caleb here yet? The coordinator needs you both for the processional… Oh my God.” My maid of honor, Maya, skidded to a halt in the doorway. Her eyes widened in disbelief, darting from my stained dress to the two men standing there like vultures. She understood instantly. “You bastards! Are you hurting her again?”
She lunged for Caleb, nails out, but I caught her arm just in time.
Maya’s dad was a senior VP at Caleb’s family company.
It wasn’t worth it. Nothing about this was worth it.
Caleb, however, seemed to misread the gesture. He saw me standing between him and Maya, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion crossed his face. Then his expression hardened again, and his voice dropped.
“I’ll give you two choices,” he repeated. “One, you wear the damn dress and we get this over with.”
“Two, you go apologize to Ava. You fix this. If you do, I’ll postpone. I’ll even find someone to make you a new dress. Your call.”
He said it was a choice, but his face was a taunt. He was daring me to fight, to scream, to make a scene.
Tears of rage streamed down Maya’s face. She looked like she wanted to kill him.
But me? I felt nothing. The anger had burned out, leaving behind an unnerving calm.
I looked him straight in the eye.
“No, thank you, Mr. Thorne. My mother—the world-renowned designer Elena Vance—made this dress for me before she died. I don’t think you can find anyone better than her.”
Thud.
Behind me, Ethan stumbled back into the vanity. I glanced over my shoulder and met his wide, shocked eyes. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He had forgotten.
I turned back to Caleb. “So, your two choices? I don’t want either of them.”
3
I walked down the aisle alone, carrying my own bouquet. At the altar, only Caleb’s parents were waiting. My own parents were gone, lost years ago. Other than the brother who had just assaulted me, I had no blood relatives left in the world.
Ignoring the gasps and confused whispers from the crowd, I calmly took the microphone from the officiant.
“I’m so sorry you all have to see me like this,” I began, my voice clear and steady. “Please, forgive my appearance.”
Caleb, finally realizing what was happening, rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you doing?”
“Exactly what you wanted,” I said, pulling my arm free. “As you can all see, my fiancé, Mr. Thorne, hasn’t even bothered to change.”
I let my eyes sweep across the stunned faces in the audience. “He believes I schemed my way into this wedding. Well, as of right now, consider my scheming over. I am officially announcing that my engagement to Caleb Thorne is broken. From this moment on, we go our separate ways.”
I dropped the microphone. The clatter echoed through the silent venue. I turned and walked off the stage, leaving Caleb standing there, a statue in a storm of chaos.
At the back of the hall stood Ethan, his face pale, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate energy. He reached out to stop me, but his hand froze in midair as his gaze fell on the deep, crimson stain on my dress.
I didn’t pause for him. I didn’t pause for anyone. I tossed my bouquet aside and walked right past him, out the door where Maya was waiting, her car already running.
“Chloe! Get in!”
The moment the door slammed shut, I felt the tremors start in my hands. In the rearview mirror, I saw a face streaked with tears, my makeup a faint smudge beneath my eyes.
Maya pressed a tissue into my hand, muttering a stream of curses against Caleb.
“He used to be such a sweet kid. What happened to him?” she fumed. “He used to adore you! God, men are trash. They change their minds faster than they change their clothes.”
Her voice softened as she saw me press the tissue to my face, my shoulders shaking silently.
“Chloe…”
“I’m okay, Maya. Really,” I whispered. “I just… I miss my mom.”
The car fell silent. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar scenery blur past. Everything had changed, and I was the only one foolish enough to stand still, waiting for a past that was never coming back.
It wasn't always like this. Ethan and Caleb… they were good to me, once. They really were.
My mother was a world-famous wedding gown designer. She always said she would create a one-of-a-kind dress for me, that she would watch me with her own eyes as I wore her love and blessings to marry the man I loved.
The year our families decided Caleb and I would one day marry, he had come to me, his cheeks flushed red, and taken my hand. Ethan had immediately shoved him away.
“Hey! The deal was for when you’re grown-ups, not now!”
The adults had laughed. I had buried my face in my mother’s dress, shy and giddy, as she stroked my hair.
Back then, my mother hadn't been diagnosed with stomach cancer yet. Back then, there was no sister named Ava in our house.
Everyone I loved was right there, with me.
4
My mother passed away when I was twelve.
She’d spent her final months working on my dress, constantly guessing at how I would grow, re-stitching seams, and finally, in a concession to the future she wouldn’t see, adding adjustable closures to the waist and bust.
It was the last gift she ever gave me.
And I almost lost it.
The same year my mother died, my father brought a little girl home. Her name was Ava. He said she was the daughter of an old army buddy who had died, a man who had made my father promise to care for her.
“Ethan, Chloe,” he’d announced, “this is your new little sister. I expect you to make her feel welcome.”
I tried. But it seemed Ava had other plans.
I had never met a child like her. One second, she would be hissing at me, trying to snatch a doll from my hands, and the next, she would be running to Ethan and Caleb with tears streaming down her face.
Is it human nature to automatically side with the one who seems weakest?
I don’t know. All I know is that the two boys who had always been on my side slowly began to drift away.
“Chloe, you can’t be like that! Ava’s lost her parents. Have some compassion!”
“She’s right, Chloe. You need to share. You have a brother, and you have me. Ava has nobody.”
I lost track of how many fights we had. They always ended the same way: with them telling me I wasn’t as kind, as gentle, as sweet as Ava.
Eventually, I just stopped fighting.
But my silence only made Ava bolder. She started going after the one thing that was sacred. She tried to take my mother’s dress.
The day I found her dragging it down the stairs, its white silk hem collecting dust, something inside me snapped. For the first time, I hit her.
When she came into my room later, a bright red handprint on her cheek and Ethan in tow, I was on my knees, gently cleaning the smudged hem with a damp cloth.
“Sniffle… Ethan, please don’t be mad at Chloe,” Ava cried, hiding behind him. “It was my fault. I made her angry. I deserved it.”
I’ll never forget the look in Ethan’s eyes. Disappointment. Confusion. And something else… disgust.
“I never thought you could be so cruel, Chloe,” he said, his voice cold. “She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. She just wanted to look at it. How could you hurt her like that?”
My hands were shaking with rage. I tried to explain, to defend myself, but our shouting brought my father into the room.
He saw Ava’s tear-streaked face and immediately went to her side. “Ava, don’t cry,” he soothed. “Daddy will have someone make you an even more beautiful princess dress, okay?”
After he had calmed her down, he turned and finally noticed me standing there. A flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Ahem, well, both of you. Chloe will get one too, of course.”
As I watched him and Ethan dabbing at Ava’s tears, a cold realization settled over me. I was the outsider in my own home.
I didn’t ask for a new dress. I took my mother’s gown, locked it away in my closet, and understood, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that there was no one left in this world who truly loved me.
“Chloe, we’re here. I’m coming in with you. I’m not letting that little snake get another shot at you.”
5
Maya’s eyes were as red as mine. I shook my head. “No.”
Over the years, she had gotten into so much trouble defending me, falling for every one of Ava’s petty traps. Maya was all heart and no guile; Ava could set a snare at her feet and she’d walk right into it, every time. And Caleb, using his family’s influence, always sided with Ava, leaving Maya furious and in tears.
I was leaving. I couldn’t let her burn any more bridges for my sake.
“It’s okay, Maya. I just need to grab my passport and a few documents. I’ll be right back out.”
I took a deep breath, gathered the heavy skirt of my dress, and walked into the house I grew up in.
The first thing I saw was Ava. The same Ava who was supposedly “crying her eyes out” was lounging on the sofa, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, a smug smile on her face.
“Well, look who it is. Back already?” she chirped. “I thought Caleb just left. That must have been the world’s fastest wedding.”
She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, dear. What happened to your dress? Caleb can be so mean. Even if he doesn’t like you, he shouldn’t have poured wine all over you. Especially since that was your mother’s final creation.”
Her performance was flawless, but as I stood there, silent and unmoved, the smile faded from her eyes. I felt no anger. Just a deep, hollow sadness. Even she remembered whose dress this was. But my own brother… he had forgotten.
Before she could speak again, I cut her off.
“It wasn’t Caleb.”
She froze. I held her gaze. “It wasn’t him. It was Ethan.”
The color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
“You don’t have to fight anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “Ethan, Caleb… they’re all yours. I don’t want any of it.”
I turned to go to my room, but she lunged, her fingers digging into my wrist. Something I said had hit a nerve. Her entire demeanor shifted, becoming manic and agitated.
“‘Let me have them’?” she shrieked. “What do you mean, ‘let me’? You didn’t let me have anything! You lost! You couldn’t hold on to them!”
Her face twisted into the familiar, venomous mask she only ever wore when we were alone. “I won! It was always me! I won!” she chanted, her eyes wild.
“You’re insane, Ava.” I tried to pull away, her grip tightening painfully. “Let go of me.”
“You lost, Chloe! You lost to me! Hahahaha!”
She was completely unhinged. I finally shoved her away, not even that hard, just enough to break her grip.
But she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, crashing into the tall curio cabinet against the wall.
CRACK. The entire thing toppled over with a deafening crash.
All the little treasures I had collected over the years—glass figures, painted boxes, delicate ornaments—shattered into a thousand pieces.
I stared, stunned, at the glittering wreckage. My eyes fixed on a broken glass jar on the floor. I was so lost in the haze of it all that I didn't see the figure rushing in from behind until a violent shove sent me stumbling forward.
“Get away from her!” Caleb roared. He had come back. “I was actually coming back to apologize to you, and I find this? You can’t be left alone for five minutes without hurting her!”
He had pushed me right into the pile of broken glass. A sharp, searing pain shot up from my ankle.
6
“Ah—” I gasped, the pain cutting through my shock. I tried to push myself up, but Caleb grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron.
“Why are you so cruel?” he raged, his face inches from mine. “You’ve been bullying her since the day she arrived! Always competing with her!”
“For toys, for clothes, for a brother’s attention… you even had to take the person she loved!”
“You already won, Chloe! You got everything you wanted! I agreed to marry you! Why can’t you just give her a break? Why can’t you cede an inch?!”
Ava was on the floor in the only clear spot, a small patch of carpet, sobbing dramatically. Caleb shook me, his forehead vein throbbing, his voice cracking with a mixture of hatred and desperation.
But I wasn’t looking at him. My gaze was fixed on the broken glass jar. It had split in half, revealing the contents scattered on the floor: dozens of small, folded pink stars. Paper stars.
My breath hitched. Ignoring Caleb’s tirade, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle, I whispered, “It wasn’t me.”
The pain was becoming overwhelming, a sharp counterpoint to the dull ache that had been building in my head all day. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I saw my own blurry reflection in Caleb’s amber irises. But I didn't care. My hands, shaking, found the sleeves of his jacket and clenched them tight.
Just like I had done ten years ago, I was trying to make him believe me.
“Caleb, it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt her,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “She grabbed me first. I didn't even push her that hard. I didn’t.”
For a second, I thought I saw his expression soften. His frantic breathing seemed to even out. He even started to raise a hand, as if to wipe away my tears.
But then Ava spoke from the floor, her voice choked with sobs.
“Caleb, please don’t yell at Chloe. She’s right… she didn’t push me hard. It was my fault. I’m just so clumsy, I lost my balance and fell.” She sniffled loudly. “But… I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?”
Caleb hesitated. His eyes flickered between me and Ava, a silent war playing out on his face. In the end, he pulled his arm away from my grasp.
“I’m taking Ava to the emergency room. We’ll talk when I get back.”
He knelt down, scooping Ava into his arms. As he stood, he glanced back at me, his voice heavy with a weary sigh.
“Your brother and my parents are handling the guests. They told everyone we had a fight and you said things you didn’t mean. Our wedding is… postponed.” He looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “I already agreed. We’ll have the wedding. Just stop fighting, okay? Wait here for me.”
He kicked a shard of glass out of his path and walked past me, his shoe crushing one of the pink paper stars on the floor.
In his arms, Ava shot me a look of pure, triumphant hatred.
I felt nothing. The pain, the world, it all faded away. I sank to the floor, my movements slow and robotic, and picked up the star with the dirty footprint on it.
I unfolded the tiny paper.
Chloe don’t be scared. Your dad and Ethan like Ava more now, but I like you. I like you the most. Only you!!
He had given it to me in class, two years after Ava had arrived. The other kids had teased us, guessing it was a love note. I’d opened it, read it, and burst into tears.
Even now, after all this time, that childish promise felt more real, more precious, than any love poem.
At fifteen, Caleb Vance had seen my fear and loneliness. With the fierce, clumsy sincerity of a teenage boy, he had tried to heal the wounds left by my mother’s death and my family’s betrayal.
But years passed. And this is what we became.
This.
First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "252215" to read the entire book.
MotoNovel
Novellia
Bookworm« Previous Post
The Revenge Marriage
Next Post »
The Wife's Prison Sentence