She Married My Younger Mirror Image

I was at the boutique that morning, standing before the three-way mirror for the final fitting of my wedding suit. It was a piece I had spent months designing, a labor of love for the day Id finally marry the woman who had been my entire world for a decade.

The bell above the door chimed, and a young man sauntered in. One of the floor assistants leaned toward me, whispering that this customer had already rejected ninety-nine different suits in the last three months. Apparently, he was impossibly high-maintenance, backed by a wealthy, doting fiance who didn't mind paying for his endless revisions.

As the assistant grumbled about the guy's pickiness, the man suddenly stopped in his tracks. He pointed directly at meor rather, at the suit I was wearing.

"I want that one," he said, his voice ringing with the casual entitlement of someone who had never been told 'no.'

The assistant politely explained that the suit was a bespoke, one-of-a-kind piece belonging to a private client. It wasn't for sale. Without a word, the man pulled out his phone and made a quick call.

Minutes later, the store manager came rushing out, breathless and pale. He informed me that the mans fiance had just purchased the entire boutique. They were "insisting" that I hand over my suit to him.

"Absolutely not," I said, my voice steady despite the spike of adrenaline. "I designed this for my own wedding. Its not a commodity."

The assistant who had been helping me earlier nudged my shoulder, whispering urgently, "Adrian, be careful. Thats the fianc of Diana Beaumont. You don't want to be on her bad side. Playing nice could open a lot of doors for your career."

The name Diana Beaumont hit me like a physical blow. My heart skipped a beat, then began to thud painfully against my ribs.

If he was Diana Beaumont's fianc... then who the hell was I?

He saw the shock written across my face and mistook it for awe. A smug, practiced smile spread across his lipsthe look of a man who knew he held all the cards.

"Youre a designer, right?" he said, nodding toward my reflection. "Think of it this way: if I wear your work to my wedding, your name will be everywhere by Monday morning. Its a career-maker."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I forced myself to swallow the bile rising in my throat and looked at the manager.

"Let me see his contract," I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger.

The manager hesitated, but after a sharp look from the young man, he handed over the tablet. I scrolled to the final page, my fingers trembling. There, at the bottom, was the signature Id seen a thousand times.

Diana Beaumont.

Her elegant, looping script was unmistakable. It was the same handwriting that had filled the margins of my college notebooks. The same hand that had signed our engagement party invitations just months ago. Now, it was here, tethered to a man named Parker.

The world turned cold, a sharp, crystalline frost settling into my bones. The reality was as absurd as it was undeniable.

My fiance, Diana, was living a double life. She wasn't just cheating; she was planning a whole other forever.

I felt my knees weaken. I reached for a glass of water on a nearby side table, forcing myself to take a slow sip. I studied Parker. He looked to be in his early twenties, radiating a restless, boyish energy. There was a haunting similarity in the set of his eyes and the curve of his jaw to my own.

The realization didn't bring comfort. It made me feel sick. He was a younger, shinier version of the man I used to be.

"Fine," I said, setting the glass down. "He can have the suit."

Parker grinned, unsurprised. He turned to head toward the dressing rooms, but I reached out and caught his sleeve.

"This suit has a very specific silhouette," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Let me style your hair for you. It needs the right look to really work."

Parkers private suite was a testament to excessplush velvet sofas, a fully stocked bar, and rows upon rows of designer labels. He noticed my gaze lingering on the racks.

"My fiances doing," Parker said with a casual shrug. "She says since I spend half my life in here picking out clothes, I might as well be comfortable."

I forced a thin smile. "She sounds very devoted."

Parker arched a brow and sighed, though his smirk betrayed his pride. "She loves throwing money at me, yeah. But shes always 'too busy' to actually show up for the fittings."

The assistant, who had followed us in to help with the pins, chimed in. "Oh, don't say that, Mr. Parker! Miss Beaumont was here for almost every other session. She must be truly swamped at the office today to miss this one."

Parker beamed at the compliment. "True. She hates being away from me. I'm sure shes miserable in whatever board meeting shes stuck in."

The words felt like shards of glass in my chest. I remembered how Diana had been so "checked out" during our own wedding planning. When I asked her about the venue, shed just say, Whatever you want, Adrian. When I booked the photographer for our engagement shoot, she stood us up three times.

I had told myself she was just stressed with the merger. I told myself she was doing it all for our future.

It wasn't that she didn't have the time. She just didn't have the heart for me.

I picked up a curling iron and began to work on Parkers hair.

"So," Parker asked, looking at me through the mirror. "Was that suit for a client? The staff said it was a 'not-for-sale' piece."

I paused, the heat of the iron radiating against my palm. "No," I said softly. "It was meant for my own wedding."

Parker blinked, looking genuinely sheepish for a fleeting second. "Oh. Man, Im sorry. Thats... awkward."

He said he was sorry, but there was no move to give the suit back. He tilted his head, his eyes bright and pleading like a spoiled puppy. "Its justIm so incredibly picky, you know? And this is the first thing thats felt right. Youre clearly talented, though. Im sure you can whip up something even better for yourself. Youve got this!"

I managed a nod. "It's fine. I'm in no rush."

As I worked, Parkers phone buzzed on the vanity. He couldn't reach it because of the styling, so he hit the speakerphone.

"Hey, babe," he chirped.

"Parker, hows the fitting going?"

The voice was a warm honey-pour I knew by heart. It was the voice that used to whisper Wake up, Adrian, into my ear every morning when we first moved in together. Back then, she was like a child, full of light, tickling me until we both collapsed into breathless laughter on the floor.

I turned my head away, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. I had almost forgotten what she sounded like when she was being gentle. She hadn't used that tone with me in years.

"I'm getting my hair done, actually," Parker said, grinning at the phone. "This suit is perfect, Diana. Its going to look amazing next to your dress. Its such a shame youre not here to see it."

"I know, honey," Diana soothed. "Im buried in the board meeting. Ill make it up to you, okay? I promise."

Parker pouted. "But this might be the last time I try it on. Don't you want to see us together before the big day?"

A soft sigh came through the linethe sound of her giving in. "Alright, you win. Ill head over as soon as we wrap up. I can never say no to you."

I let out a silent, bitter laugh. Last night, I had begged Diana to come with me to pick up the suit. I told her it was a big moment for me.

She had looked at me with cold, judgmental eyes. Adrian, stop being so needy. I have work.

Then she had walked away without a second glance.

Apparently, her schedule was flexible after all. I just wasn't the one worth bending it for.

Parker hung up, looking victorious. The assistant sighed wistfully. "You two are just goals, Mr. Parker. Truly."

Parker laughed, then looked at me. "So, man, whens your big day?"

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a guillotine.

Before I could answer, a rival designer from the shopa guy who had always hated my "artistic" approachwalked in with a tray of accessories. Hed caught the tail end of the conversation.

"Hes been working on that suit for months," the guy sneered, looking at me with pure schadenfreude. "But weve never even seen this 'fiance' of his. Honestly, we were starting to wonder if she even existed."

He turned to Parker, his face instantly transforming into a mask of sycophancy. "Now, you, Mr. Parkeryoure the lucky one. A woman like Miss Beaumont? She clearly cant breathe without you."

I looked down, unable to find a retort. It was true. Diana hadn't even set a date with me yet. Every time I brought it up, she found a reason to delay. I had been planning a wedding for a ghost.

Parker frowned, seemingly coming to my defense, though his voice held a note of condescending pity. "Really? She hasn't been helping? Thats a red flag, brother. You should watch out for that."

I played along, my heart a lead weight in my chest. "Maybe you're right. I should rethink things. What about you? When are you two tying the knot?"

Parker thought for a second. "The big ceremony is later this year, but we actually already made it official."

My breath hitched. "Official?"

Parker nodded proudly. "Yeah, we eloped at City Hall on May 20th. I insisted on the date5/20 sounds like 'I love you' in the old tradition, right? She was supposed to be on a business trip, but I talked her into it."

May 20th.

My thirtieth birthday.

I had waited up for her until 2:00 AM that night. She had texted me saying she was stuck at a conference three states away, exhausted and alone. I had felt guilty for even wanting her there.

And all the while, she was signing a marriage license with a boy who shared my eyes.

We had been together since we were eighteen. For a decade, she was the girl who couldn't wait to turn twenty-one just so we could legally elope. Then, as her career took off, she became the woman who was "too busy for paperwork."

She had cried when I proposed. We were under a canopy of fireworks, and she had clung to me, sobbing Yes, yes, forever.

I realized then that "forever" was just a word she recycled for whoever was currently holding her interest.

Parker went into the dressing room to change into the final look. I followed him in to help with the delicate tailoring of the jacket.

"Hey," Parker whispered, leaning in close. "Could you guys let out the waist on the wedding dress a little? Just a preemptive strike?"

I blinked. "The dress?"

Parker smirked, a secret shining in his eyes. "She thinks shes surprising me, but I know shes pregnant. I don't want to ruin her surprise, but I know shell be showing by the time we do the big reception. Can you make sure the designers know? Keep it on the down-low, though."

The world went silent. A cold, crushing weight settled onto my lungs.

Pregnant.

Dianathe woman who had told me for years that she was "strictly child-free"was carrying a child.

She had told me she was afraid of the pain, afraid of losing her career, afraid of being "trapped" by motherhood. I had respected her choice. I had defended her when her family pressured us. I had made my peace with a life that was just the two of us.

And now, she was having a baby with him.

I mumbled something incoherent and bolted out of the dressing room. I leaned against the door in the hallway, my chest heaving.

The cruelty of it was breathtaking. Maybe she didn't tell him because she planned on "handling" it. Or maybe, she just didn't want a life with me.

Parkers phone rang on the sofa again. It was Diana.

"Adrian!" Parker yelled from inside the room. "Can you grab that? My hands are full!"

I stared at the phone. A dark, jagged urge took root in my mind. I wanted to see her world burn the way mine just had.

I picked up. "Hello?"

There was a pause. She didn't recognize my voice through the digital filter of the phone. "Who is this?"

"I'm an assistant at the boutique," I said, my voice flat. "Mr. Parker is in the dressing room. Can I take a message?"

She didn't suspect a thing. "Oh, fine. Just tell him I ordered some afternoon tea to be sent over. Make sure he eats; he gets migraines if his blood sugar drops."

The tenderness in her voice was nauseating. It was a ghost of the woman I used to love.

"Of course," I said.

"And one more thing," Diana added, her voice dropping an octave. "Regarding the dress I ordered... tell the lead designer to adjust the waist. Make it larger."

My grip tightened on the phone. "Is there a specific reason for the change?"

There was a long silence. Then, softly: "I'm pregnant. But please, don't tell Parker. I want to surprise him. Just make sure the designer handles it."

I hung up and slowly sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

It wasn't that she didn't want children. She just didn't want my children.

Ten years. I had given her a decade of my life, and I was nothing more than a placeholder.

Parker stepped out of the room, looking radiant in the suit I had built for myself. It fit him perfectly. We really did have the same tastein clothes, and in women.

The staff hovered around him, showering him with praise. Parker lived for it. He snapped a selfie and sent it to Diana. Babe, look at this. Im a masterpiece, right?

Her reply came instantly: Stunning. You were born to wear that.

I watched him, a boy vibrating with a happiness I once owned.

I remembered when I first started in design. I had no formal training, just a sketchbook and a dream. Everyone told me Id fail. Except Diana. She was my fiercest advocate.

Back then, there was a vintage gown in a window downtown that I used to stare at. I loved the craftsmanship, but I was a broke student and buying a wedding dress seemed like a jinx. I never told her. I just looked.

The next day, it was sitting in my bedroom.

I remembered the way she looked at me thenwith a fierce, unwavering devotion. Adrian, if you love it, its yours. Whatever you want to do, Im behind you. Always.

She had loved me once. I knew she had. But time is a slow, silent thief.

Parker was preening in front of the mirror when his assistant suggested a pop of colora brooch, perhaps.

"You're right," Parker said, snapping his fingers. "I almost forgot. I just picked up that piece from the auction house today."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a velvet jewelry box. He pinned a shimmering object to his lapel and turned to me.

"What do you think? My fiance won this at an estate auction for me. Goes great with the suit, right?"

My heart stopped.

I stared at the brooch. I moved closer, my eyes wide, my breath hitching in my throat. It couldn't be.

But it was.

It was a vintage emerald and gold piecemy mothers only heirloom. An antique that had been in my family for generations.

Years ago, when the Beaumont firm was on the verge of bankruptcy, Diana had been desperate. I couldn't stand to see her lose everything. I had sold that broochthe only thing I had left of my motherto inject capital into her company. It was the seed money that saved her empire.

I had spent my life feeling guilty for losing it. Diana knew how much it meant to me. She had promised me, a thousand times, that she would find it and bring it home.

She had found it.

And she had given it to Parker.

I felt the blood drain from my face, replaced by a searing, white-hot rage. My nails bit into my palms until I drew blood.

How dare she? How dare she use my mothers legacy to buy the affection of a boy she was using to replace me?

The door to the lounge swung open. A familiar silhouette stepped in, bathed in the soft glow of the boutique lighting.

"Parker, honey? Are you ready to go home?"

I turned slowly.