My Bride's Groom was Her High School Sweetheart

For eight years, I waited for Chloe to love me back.

But it only took less than five minutes to find out that she had been waiting for someone else in all those years.

Three days before our wedding, I found something on her laptop—thousands of pictures.

All of the same guy. Her high school sweetheart.

I didn't ask who, when, why, how... There's only one answer—she had betrayed me. But I pretended she didn't like there's still some hope for us.

She was almost my bride, but I was never close to being the groom she truly wanted.

On the day of our wedding, I took a flight away from her, as if the marriage we were supposed to have had already turned into a divorce.

But when I finally let her go, why did she start waiting for me to say 'I do'?

——

"Mr. Langston, that spot in the overseas branch… Is it still open?" I asked my supervisor. He'd offered an overseas assignment for me once, and I decided it was about time I accepted it. "I've made up my mind—I'm in."

"Of course! I'll get your papers sorted right right away!" He sounded relieved, like he'd been waiting for me to back out of getting married and make this call. "Desmond, that's really great. I kept telling you that a man should focus on his career. Heard you were getting married, though…?"

"Yeah, well, n-not anymore," I said with a bitter smile. I forced a laugh just to be casual, but boy, my voice was shaking. "But don't worry about it."

Of course, he would. But I hung up before he could say he was sorry, before he could doubt I was fit for the overseas assignment, or before he could ask why Chloe and I were no longer getting married.

The endless pictures of the same guy in my fiancé's laptop—he's the why.

It was like opening a Pandora's box, except instead of chaos, it was his face—over and over again. Thousands, no, endless photos flooded the screen. Each one stared back at me, pixelated and mocking.

I stared at the screen for so long that my eyes couldn't keep up. They were bouncing from one image to another, zipping across the screen like I was scrolling through a nightmare in fast-forward.

It felt like the whole room was spinning. My brain couldn't process it fast enough, and soon enough, my head started to feel light, my stomach tight, like I was one picture away from passing out.

Chloe and I both started at the same company after graduation. We just worked in separate departments.

She was out tonight for her bachelorette party her friend organized.

Her supervisor couldn't reach her and urgently needed her proposal, so he called me instead.

That's when I opened her laptop for the first time. That's when I found out there's this man she's crazy in love with in all those years we were together. That's when I found out it was never me.

Dude. Eight long years of memories came crashing down on me. All at once.

Chloe wasn't like most girls.

I mean, she never had a single picture of me on her phone. I mean, not one. No photos of us together. Nothing. Sometimes, even I couldn't tell if we were a couple.

I'd even beg her, practically on my knees, like, "Come on, babe, let's take a selfie!" But she'd always say, "Seriously? We see each other all the time! No need to document it!"

Now, I get it. It wasn't that she didn't care about memories. It's that I wasn't worth remembering.

For eight years, I made excuses for her.

Sometimes I'd stay out late just hoping she'd show some sign that she gave a damn about me—her fiancé. Maybe text or call me, ask where I was, or when I'd come home—anything.

But nope. I'd walk in at 2 a.m. to find she was sleeping soundly. In the morning, I'd tell her I was sorry I came home late. But she didn't mind, as if she hadn't even noticed I was gone.

Looking back now, I feel like such a fool. How the hell did I not see this coming?

Once, her friend slipped up when she found out we were getting married.

"I always thought you'd die alone, waiting for Jaxson. 'You really getting married? 'You sure you're not just doing this to prove a point?"

I didn't catch Chloe's guilty look back then. I didn't even bother thinking who that Jaxson was. It didn't cross my mind that she could be guilty.

I even defended her in my head. I was like, 'Sure, Chloe may not be sweet, but she wouldn't stay with me this long if she didn't love me!'

I was too busy thumping my chest, convincing myself. 'She's marrying me because she loves me!' I thought over and over like a prayer.

Now? Yeah, dammit, I can't even say that without choking on it.

I shut her laptop and took a deep breath. I wanted to call her and end things right there.

But when I picked up my phone, I saw she hadn't even replied to the text I sent her about picking out her wedding dress.

I checked her social media. She hadn't posted anything.

Nothing but a dark profile pic. Nothing, except that one word in her bio: [Waiting.]

I let out a bitter laugh and just collapsed onto the couch.

Back then, I thought she was just... I don't know—shy? Not good with her feelings?

But now, I realize... I was a fucking idiot!

I'd asked her a million times what that 'waiting' thing meant. She never answered.

Now, I no longer had to ask.

Three days until our wedding, I set a countdown on my phone as the wallpaper. I watched the seconds tick away every time I looked at my screen.

It reminded me of how much time I had left to escape such a nightmare.

I was booking my flight when her friend called. "Hey, Desmond, Chloe's wasted... You should come pick her up. I'll send you the address," Diana said.

I could hear my fiancé in the background. She was calling out, "Jaxson!"

And my chest just... tightened.

Her friend was quick to muffle the phone and hung up.

I shook my head, trying to snap out of it. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.

That's when I saw the couple's keychains I bought for us. I had them custom-made for us, thinking they would mean something. I heard girls love that kind of thoughtful stuff.

But she called it childish and never used it once. And she tossed it carelessly on the shelf.

I picked it up, stared at it for a second, then threw it in the trash.

Then I noticed the matching mugs I'd bought—still in the box, unwrapped.

It was like the universe was mocking me. Just a constant reminder of how one-sided this whole thing had been.

Something bubbled up in my chest. I could feel it in my veins as I grabbed the trash can and dumped everything.

The mugs, the keychains. All of it.

Then I got in a cab and headed to the address her friend sent.

When I got to the door, I could hear them laughing inside.

Someone asked, "So what's up, Jaxson? 'Didn't expect you back today. 'Regretting letting Chloe get married?"

So the man my fiancé had been waiting for in eight years we were together... He was back.

I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and pushed the door open.

The second I walked in, the room went dead silent. Everyone stared at me awkwardly, like I was someone uninvited to a party.

And there she was—the woman I was supposed to marry in three days, snuggled up against some bastard.

She stared at him the way I looked at her—like she wanted to keep him forever.

I stared at that bastard.

He looked younger, but he's wearing that same old cocky face.

Like those pics my fiancé kept on her laptop, which she probably secretly dreamed of waking up in bed.