I Gave My Future to Another Man

Seven days before my wedding, I discover that my stepsister Harper Brooks' wedding invitation lists the same groom as mine—Jeffrey Sullivan. At first, I assume the printing company has made a mistake. So, I take the invitations to my mom to ask what's going on. Before I can knock, I overhear her talking to Harper through the door. "Marry Jeffrey first. Once the baby's born and everything's settled, he'll go back to Barbara. She owes you her life. Letting you marry him first is the least she can do." Tears stream down Harper's cheeks. "But what about Barbara?" Mom sighs, then says matter-of-factly, "They've been together for 12 years. One piece of paper isn't going to change much. But your situation is different. Your baby needs a father." Outside the door, I grip the invitations so tightly they crumple in my hands. Only then do I realize why Jeffrey skipped my wedding dress fitting three months earlier. He claims he's busy with work, but in reality, he's taking Harper to a prenatal appointment. At the time, I just laugh and tease him. "Stand me up on our wedding day too, and I'll find another groom." Jeffrey smiles as he settles my veil over my hair, then leans down and kisses me. "Don't be silly. I'm the only man you'll ever marry." Now, that promise seems every bit as ridiculous as these two wedding invitations. When Jeffrey finds me, he doesn't deny any of it. Instead, he pulls me into his arms, his eyes red-rimmed. "I've always loved you. But I have to take responsibility for the baby she's carrying," he says. "I'll marry her, but my heart will always belong to you." I know exactly what he means. He wants Harper to be his wife while turning me, the fiancee who's loved him for 12 years, into his mistress. I look at Jeffrey and smile. "Okay." He thinks I've agreed. But he doesn't know that on our wedding day, he'll marry Harper, and I'll marry someone else. Chapter 1 The moment I said yes, my fiance, Jeffrey Sullivan, visibly relaxed. Then, he handed me a list, saying, "Harper will move into the master bedroom tonight. Go ahead and pack up your things." I stared at the list, a knot forming in my stomach. I had put down the entire down payment on this house, and I had drawn up the renovation plans from scratch. "Why am I the one who has to move?" I demanded. Jeffrey couldn't bring himself to meet my eyes. "Harper's morning sickness has been pretty bad, and the master bedroom is closer to the bathroom. Besides, the guest room's too small for her. I'll find you somewhere better later." He said it so casually, as though it were perfectly obvious that I should be the one to step aside. Though I had already decided to let go, hearing him say that still sent a sharp ache through my chest. … I dragged my suitcase back to the house to pack my things. Out of habit, I punched in my birthday, only for the lock to flash an error. Before I could react, Jeffrey opened the door from the other side. On the shoe cabinet in the entryway, I spotted a note with the new code. It was my stepsister Harper Brooks' birthday. A pair of Harper's slippers sat by the door. The wedding and honeymoon plans I had once taped to the refrigerator were gone. A list of her dietary restrictions was there instead. I walked toward the master bedroom, each step heavier than the last. The photo of Jeffrey and me from our trip was gone from the nightstand, replaced by a blurry ultrasound printout. Then, I stepped into the walk-in closet and realized that my wedding dress was gone. I called the bridal boutique at once. The employee who answered told me, "Mr. Sullivan already gave Ms. Brooks permission to take the dress in for alterations." I hung up and turned to Jeffrey. "I spent three months designing that wedding dress. Who gave you the right to make the decision for me?" A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes as he stepped forward and reached for my hand. "Barbara, she'll only wear it once. I'll find another designer and have a new one made for you." I avoided his touch. My eyes stung as tears welled up. "It's not the same." He paused for a moment before lowering his voice. "It's just a dress. Do you really have to make such a big deal about it with Harper right now? "Her father died in a car accident years ago while he was out buying you a cake. She has no one else in the world. Can't you just consider this a favor you owe her?" For 13 years, I'd heard the same thing over and over. Whenever Harper wanted something, they would bring up her father's death and use it to pressure me into giving in. In that moment, I finally understood what despair really felt like. Just then, Harper called. "Jeffrey, my belly is cramping so badly. I'm scared," she whined. Jeffrey didn't even stop to grab his coat before heading out. The moment the door closed behind him, I finally broke down and sank to the floor. Chapter 2 After packing up my things, I had no choice but to go back to my mother's place. But when I pushed open the door to my old bedroom, I found a crib and baby toys taking up most of the space. Even the wallpaper had been changed to pink. Just then, Mom came out of the kitchen. She wiped her hands on a towel and said, "Harper's due soon. We had to get a room ready for the baby." I looked at the few cardboard boxes shoved into the hall closet. They were all that remained of me in this house. "Where am I supposed to stay when I come back?" I asked softly. Mom frowned, clearly displeased. "You have Jeffrey and that huge house of yours. Why are you fighting Harper for this little room?" Suddenly, a coldness crept into me, so deep it seemed to seep into my bones. As it turned out, they weren't asking me to step aside for a while. They had already planned to cut me out of their lives. Later, I dug out my old phone and called my high school classmate, Clifford Nash. "Will you come get me on my wedding day?" I asked him. There was a long silence on the other end. Without asking why, Clifford replied, "Okay. Send me the address. I'll come get you." After hanging up, I texted the hotel manager. The message read, "Please keep the smaller room next to the ballroom reserved. And make sure no one goes in before 12:20 pm." … Five days before my wedding, Mom called. "Harper cried all night. She's worried you got the wrong idea. Come over and clear things up with her in person. She's bleeding and can't handle stress right now, so watch your attitude." I did my makeup, then deliberately chose a bright red trench coat before heading out. I wanted to see who Jeffrey would choose when it came down to it. … Clifford drove me to the hospital. When he pulled up at the entrance, he kept the engine running. "If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming up." … The door to Harper's hospital room was slightly ajar. I spotted Jeffrey sitting beside her bed, peeling an apple for her. At that moment, a nurse walked in with a clipboard. "Who's here with the patient? I need someone to sign this." "I'm the baby's father." Jeffrey immediately took the pen and signed. Back then, whenever my stomach hurt so badly that I broke out in a cold sweat, I'd ask him to peel an apple for me. Yet, he'd always get annoyed and snap, "I'm not your maid. If you want fruit, order some yourself." And now, Jeffrey was carefully peeling the apple, the skin coming away in one long, unbroken spiral. Moments later, Mom came back carrying a thermos of hot water. When she saw me, she walked right past without a word. Instead, she went straight to Harper's bedside and tucked the blanket around her. "Oh, sweetheart. You've been so sick these past few days. Just look at you. You've gotten so thin." She fussed over Harper like she was her own daughter, barely sparing me a glance. Harper propped herself up, pulled a stack of prenatal records from beneath her pillow, and handed them to me. "Barbara, I never wanted to come between you two," she said. "But my baby needs a father. Please… Just let me have the baby." I opened the first report. The date on it was the very day Jeffrey and I announced our plans to get married. The ultrasound report stated that Harper was eight weeks pregnant. Tucked inside the folder was a photograph. I recognized the man beside Harper immediately. He was her college sweetheart, Eric Miller. But Jeffrey had told me they'd slept together a month before we announced our plans to get married. So, how could Harper already be eight weeks pregnant? I slapped the report against Jeffrey's leg and asked, "Are you sure something actually happened between you two that night?" Jeffrey glanced at the report, clearly not understanding it, and blurted, "You're really going to start this now? I was blackout drunk that night. When I woke up, she was already beside me. "I know I messed up, and I'll take responsibility for it. I'm not going to let Harper take all the blame." I pressed on, "What about three months ago, when I was trying on my wedding dress? You didn't answer my calls then, either. Were you blackout drunk that day too?" "The results from her checkup that day weren't good. The doctor was worried she might miscarry. She was alone at the hospital, crying. I couldn't just leave her there." Jeffrey held my gaze as he spoke, and I knew he meant it. Out of nowhere, Harper pressed a hand to her stomach. "Jeffrey, my stomach hurts." Jeffrey immediately tossed the paring knife aside and pulled her into his arms. Clinging to him, Harper pleaded, "Barbara, please don't pressure him. It was all my fault. I'm the one who got pregnant." "Barbara Weber! Stop it!" It was the first time Jeffrey had ever yelled at me. He went on, "She's having a difficult pregnancy. If you're angry, take it out on me. Harper hasn't done anything to you. I think it'd be better if you just stay away for the next few days." Watching them together made my stomach turn. I said nothing more, slipped the prenatal records and photograph into my bag, and walked out. Chapter 3 Back in the car, I showed Clifford the photo and the prenatal records. "The baby isn't Jeffrey's." "Why didn't you just tell him?" Clifford asked as he pulled away from the curb. I watched the scenery blur past me and replied, "I wanted to see if he'd still choose her if the baby weren't in the picture." Clifford gave the steering wheel a light tap. "How much longer are you going to wait?" I closed my eyes, forcing down the ache inside me. "Until I've had enough of waiting." … Three days before the wedding, Mom invited relatives from both families to dinner. On the surface, it was a dinner to discuss the final wedding details. But in reality, Mom was making sure everyone stuck to the same story about Harper and Jeffrey. It wasn't until I reached the door of the private room that I realized what Mom had done. She'd already told everyone that Harper was the bride-to-be. According to her, I'd called off the engagement because Jeffrey and I simply weren't right for each other. During the dinner, one of our relatives asked about the house Jeffrey and I shared. "Barbara's always been so understanding. She's letting Harper stay there for now. It's close to the hospital, so it'll be easier for her," Mom replied before I could answer. At that, I set my utensil down. "I'm the one who paid the down payment on that house," I said, my voice icy. The entire room fell silent. Under the table, Jeffrey gripped my hand and muttered, "She's pregnant. What's wrong with letting her stay there for a while? Don't make this awkward for everyone." I looked at him. "Then where am I supposed to stay?" "A hotel, or a friend's place. What's the big deal?" He sounded irritated. "I'll figure something out for you after Harper gives birth." Just then, my phone lit up with a message from a friend who had originally agreed to be my bridesmaid. The text read, "Barbara, your mom said Harper's the bride now. Are we supposed to go with her to get her hair and makeup done?" I tapped open the group chat. The name had already been changed to "Jeffrey and Harper's Wedding". The chat was filled with messages about Harper's hair, makeup, and wedding shoes. She'd even posted photos from my wedding dress fitting. She'd written, "I had the dress altered a little, and now it hides my bump perfectly." Everyone was gushing about how sweet and beautiful she looked. Yet, not one person asked about me. At that moment, Harper walked up to me with a sheet of paper. "Barbara, I've never been very good at putting my feelings into words," she began. "Could I use the vows you wrote? After all, you know Jeffrey better than anyone." I'd spent several nights working on those vows. I looked at Jeffrey and asked, "Did anything else happen between you after that night?" The others were deep in conversation, paying no attention to us. He was silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "I held and kissed her. And later, it happened again. I was sober that time. But Barbara, I never meant to leave you." I forced a smile, but it felt like something inside me had been ripped away. "You held her. You kissed her. You're going to marry her and move her into my house, but now, you're telling me you never meant to leave me?" When I refused to hand it over, Harper reached for the draft in front of me. Then, her elbow accidentally knocked over the bowl, sending scalding soup spilling across my wrist. My skin turned red almost instantly, and a searing pain shot through my wrist. Startled by the heat, Harper stumbled back and hit the chair. She immediately clutched her stomach and cried out in pain. Jeffrey had seen me clutching my wrist, my hand trembling. Yet, he walked right past me and caught Harper. "Go run your wrist under cold water!" he barked. Then, he anxiously asked Harper if she was okay. Mom, too, rushed over. She grabbed Harper's hand and shot me a glare. "Couldn't you be more careful? You know she can't be frightened like that!" I looked down at my blistered wrist. Harper had knocked over the soup. I was the one who got burned, and somehow, I was still the one being blamed. Both Jeffrey and Mom took Harper to the hospital, leaving me alone in the private room. A server handed me an ice pack. I took it, held it against my wrist, and left the wedding group chat. Chapter 4 Two hours later, Jeffrey texted me. He wrote, "Harper's fine. Does your hand still hurt? And can you review the wedding itinerary and menu and send them back to me?" I stared at the screen until tears finally streamed down my cheeks. Later, I sent in my resignation and made arrangements to hand over my work before calling Clifford. "I don't want to wait anymore. If you still want this, I'll marry you tomorrow." … On the morning of the wedding, Mom opened my room door. "Barbara, Harper and Jeffrey have signed the paperwork," she said with a pleased smile. "Don't worry. Once she has the baby, Jeffrey will make it up to you." I stuffed the last of my clothes into my suitcase and nodded. "Okay." Mom ran a hand through my hair. "I knew you'd understand. You'd never make things difficult for me." She didn't know that Clifford and I had gotten married the evening before. Before we made it official, he had asked me thrice, "Are you sure about this? "If you're only doing this to get away, you don't have to. I can get you out of here right now. You don't need a piece of paper to prove anything." I'd told him, "I'm not doing this to prove anything to them. I just don't want this relationship anymore, and I don't want to be part of that family anymore." Afterward, I slipped the key to Mom's house and the one to the home Jeffrey and I shared into an envelope. Then, I handed it to a hotel staff member. I wrote on the front, "You don't need to save a place for me anymore. I won't be coming back to make things difficult for anyone." … When we arrived at the hotel, Mom pulled me to the door of the adjoining room. "Just sit here for a while. Don't go into the ballroom. Harper's having a hard time right now. Once the ceremony's over, Jeffrey will come check on you." Jeffrey came over too, his gaze settling on my bandaged wrist. He lowered his voice and reassured me, "I'll come find you as soon as the ceremony's over. Just wait here for me." "Wait for what, exactly?" I asked, holding his gaze. "Until you marry her and come back to tell me I'm the one you love?" His eyes were red-rimmed. "Barbara, I'll make it up to you." Just then, Harper walked over in the wedding dress I'd designed. She was also holding the vows I'd written. "Barbara, can I read the part about how Jeffrey shielded you from the rain when you were 17? After today, everyone will think that was a memory he and I shared." After saying that, she leaned close and whispered in my ear, "You've always blamed yourself for Dad's death, haven't you? Well, let me have this wedding, and we'll call it even." I didn't take the paper she held out. "Harper, I always gave in to you because I thought I owed you something. But you were never entitled to my husband." … Soon, the wedding began in the ballroom. On the screen, I watched Harper walk down the aisle in my wedding dress, past the flowers I'd picked out, reciting the vows I'd written. But Jeffrey kept glancing toward the door. He still expected me to be sitting in some corner, waiting for whatever scraps of affection he was willing to throw my way. … At 12:20 pm, they began playing messages from the bride's friends and family. But I never appeared on the screen. Jeffrey furrowed his brow. He was about to send someone to find me when my favorite wedding song began playing from the room next door. Suddenly, panic seized him. He rushed to the adjoining room and shoved the door open. I was standing before Clifford in a simple white dress. The officiant held the microphone, and his voice rang out clearly across the room. "Barbara Harper, do you take Clifford Nash to be your husband?" I held Clifford's gaze and didn't look back. "I do."