My fiancé died before our wedding; three months later, his mother saw me at another wedding and immediately tried to hide.
Adrian and I were supposed to exchange vows that summer.
We had already paid the deposit for the venue. My dress was hanging in the closet, waiting for the big day. We had even spent a whole afternoon arguing over whether to choose almond or lemon cake, laughing until our stomachs hurt.
Then, just six weeks before our big day, Adrian died in a violent car accident.
The damage was devastating; there was no choice but to hold a closed-casket funeral.
At the cemetery, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his mother, Colleen, clutching her fingers as he was lowered into the ground.
I thought my world had already hit rock bottom.
Twelve weeks later, I discovered just how naive I had been.
I work as a floral designer.
Ceremonies had always brought me immense joy. However, after burying Adrian, the mere sight of white roses tore at my soul with memories of my own thwarted plans.
Even so, the expenses of daily life don’t stop for grief.
Three months after his death, I finally forced myself to take on wedding commissions again.
That morning, a colleague in the industry woke up with the flu and begged me to fill in for her at an event.
I accepted the job.
At midday, while trimming stems in a banquet hall I had never visited before, a familiar figure caught my eye near the foyer.
Colleen.
I parted my lips to greet her.
At that exact moment, our eyes met.
The color instantly drained from her face.
Spinning on her heels, she ran off toward an empty hallway.
It made no sense.
It was true that Colleen and I had drifted apart during our grief, but that attempt to avoid me seemed completely unjustified.
I ran after her.
“Colleen?”
Her footsteps stopped. She turned and looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Meredith?”
“What brings you here?”
She shifted uncomfortably, looking uneasy.
“I could ask you the exact same thing.”
“It’s my job. I’m handling the centerpieces.”
“In this room?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?” Just as she was about to speak, an event planner hurried up behind us.
“Mrs. Parker, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. The groom needs his mother.”
I blinked, looking at Colleen.
A wave of realization hit me.
Adrian had an older brother named Julian.
Of course.
Julian had to be the one getting married today.
We’d always had a cordial relationship.
I have to admit, I felt a pang in my chest realizing I hadn’t been invited.
Then again, the family hadn’t exactly been in touch lately.
They probably assumed that being surrounded by vows and rings would break my heart all over again.
I let the slight slide.
That was when I noticed the wrist corsage she was wearing.
I had wired those exact ivory petals myself just a few hours earlier—for the groom’s mother.
Colleen shot me a wary look before hurrying off after the planner.
I told myself she was simply uncomfortable because of the unexpected encounter.
A short while later, I saw her hovering outside the preparation room.
My first impulse was to leave her be.
After all, a mother belongs by her son’s side on his wedding day.
However, she cast a furtive glance left and right before quickly slipping inside.
Colleen’s voice carried out into the hallway.
“You have to hurry. The ceremony starts in twenty minutes.”
A deep voice answered from inside.
I froze.
That voice didn’t belong to Julian. A shiver that chilled me to the bone ran down my spine.
I moved closer until I was just inches away from the ajar door.
Through the opening, I saw Colleen waiting.
Then, the man turned around.
I clapped both hands over my mouth.
Adrian.
Breathing. Alive.
He was standing there in the charcoal-grey tailored suit he had bought specifically for our wedding.
My feet were rooted to the carpet.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
Colleen adjusted his lapels with a steady hand.
“You look perfect.”
Adrian smiled.
“Good. I don’t want anything to go wrong today.”
I stumbled backward before either of them could see me.
Three months earlier, I had attended Adrian’s funeral, believing I would never hear his voice again. It turned out he was alive.
His mother knew.
And both of them had let me mourn him.
I turned and ran.
I barely made it to the bathroom before the tears came.
I locked myself in and wept until I could hardly breathe.
My phone started ringing.
It was my assistant.
“Meredith? The coordinator is looking for you. They’re about to start.”
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My eyes were swollen. My mascara was smudged.
“Meredith? Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to handle it?”
I thought of A
PART 2 / My fiancé passed away before our wedding; three months later, I caught his mother crashing another wedding.
