My Fiancé Celebrated Seven Wedding Anniversaries with Another Woman

A few rounds into the night, when Ethan Brooks set his glass on the table and suggested a reverse game of Never Have I Ever. The rules were simple. Everyone took turns naming something they'd done. Anyone who hadn't done it put a finger down. The first person to put all five fingers down had to take a dare chosen by everyone else at the table. So when Ethan grinned and said, "I've dated a Grant," I laughed and raised my hand too. "What do you know? So have I." The whole table cracked up. When it was Claire Howard's turn, she lazily swirled the drink in her glass. She glanced at me, then looked at Noah. "Last month, Noah and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary." My smile slowly faded. "Don't joke about that." But Leah Collins, sitting next to her, burst out laughing. "Who says she's joking? We were all there for that 'wedding' of theirs." Seven years. Noah and I had only been together for five years. And our real wedding was still nine days away. I turned to Noah on instinct. He had his head down, fiddling with his phone as if he hadn't heard a thing. But the screen was still open to his text thread with Claire, and at the very bottom was a kissing-face emoji she'd just sent. I ended up with the dare. Ethan egged me on to use Noah's phone to call the third number on his recent-calls list and put the call on speaker. A woman's voice came through the speaker, warm with laughter. "Babe, you left your underwear in my bathroom when you showered here yesterday. Are you coming by tonight to pick it up?" The room went dead silent. I knew that voice. Leah. The others didn't even look shocked. Each of them had a piece of Noah's past: flirty jokes they'd once shared with him and secrets only his friends were in on. Some of them had even slept with him. And I, the woman who was marrying him in nine days, was the outsider. "You all win this game," I said, looking at him. "But him? I don't want him anymore." Chapter 1 The room was so quiet that the only sound was ice clinking against glass. Ethan was the first to look away. Claire leaned back in her chair and took a sip as if nothing had happened. "Irene, we've all had a few drinks. We're just talking. Don't make this ugly." I stared at her. "What do you mean, your seventh wedding anniversary?" Before she could answer, Noah slammed his phone facedown on the table. "Enough. Everyone's been drinking. Do you really have to question every word tonight like this is a trial?" I glanced down at the engagement ring on my finger. I'd worn it for two years. With the wedding nine days away, I'd already been to four dress fittings and redone the seating chart three times. I'd made dozens of calls just to arrange hotels and rides for our out-of-state guests. At that moment, my wedding dress was hanging in our guest room, and the designer and I had selected every pearl on the skirt all over again, one by one. But the man standing in front of me thought I was killing the mood just by asking about a pair of underwear and a "wedding anniversary." I ignored his irritation and asked, "Why did Leah say your underwear is at her place?" Noah's face darkened. "A few of us were drinking at her apartment yesterday, and somebody spilled red wine on my pants. I used her shower. That's all." "She doesn't have a dryer?" "Irene." There was a warning in his voice now. "So did you leave in wet pants, or did you come home with nothing on from the waist down?" Ethan coughed hard, and someone beside him lowered their head to hide a laugh. Noah's embarrassment finally turned into anger. "What is your problem?" The whole thing suddenly felt absurd. He was the one leaving behind all these suggestive clues, yet I was the one being scolded in public for being "immature." "What about Claire?" I continued. Claire gave a little laugh. "That was years ago. The year we all started working, a bunch of us went to Las Vegas. We got drunk and posed for mock-wedding photos at one of those little chapels. The ceremony wasn't even legal. Everyone still jokes about it every year, and Noah takes me out to dinner. That's all it is." She said it as if it meant nothing and even smiled. "Hard to believe it's already been seven years." Seven years. I'd spent five anniversaries with Noah. And in all five years we'd been together, he'd never once missed another woman's "wedding anniversary." I grabbed my bag and walked out. Noah caught up with me at the door and grabbed my wrist. "If you walk out like this tonight, how are we all supposed to look each other in the eye tomorrow? We're about to get married. Can you act like an adult? I've known Claire for over ten years. She just doesn't think before she talks. Leah just got dumped, and she's all over the place. Do you have to assume the worst about everyone?" I pried his fingers off me, one by one. Behind me, Claire called out, "Irene." I turned around. She was smiling, her glass raised. "Noah really does love you, you know. After all these years, you're the one he chose to marry." No one at the table seemed to hear anything wrong with that. Someone even jumped in to smooth things over. "Yeah, Irene. Who didn't have a few messy relationships when they were young? If he's ready to get married, that means you're the one he really wants to settle down with." And suddenly, I got it. In their world, Noah could cross every boundary in his relationships, past and present, and it still didn't count as cheating. As long as I was the one standing beside him at the wedding, I was supposed to be grateful that I'd "won in the end." Noah followed me to the elevators. "I'll take you home." "Don't bother." "Irene, that's enough." The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in. He followed me inside, his expression grim. "Your parents are coming down from Maine tomorrow. I don't want them to arrive in Boston and walk straight into a fight between us." I watched the floor numbers count down, my temples throbbing. "Noah, have you slept with Leah?" He was quiet for a full three seconds. "No." "What about Claire?" "Are you ever going to drop this?" The words were barely out of his mouth when his phone rang. Claire's name was on the screen. He answered. I don't know what she said, but his tone changed almost instantly. "Where's your stomach medicine? Sit down and stay put. I'm coming over now." He hung up and wouldn't meet my eyes. "Her stomach's acting up." "So?" "Get yourself an Uber home. I'm just going to check on her. I'll be back in half an hour." At 1:17 a.m., back at our apartment, I was scrolling on my phone when I saw a post Claire had just shared on Instagram. The photo showed a bowl of hot soup. Part of a man's hand was visible in the frame beside it. The watch on that wrist was the anniversary gift I'd given Noah last year. I set my phone facedown on the dining table. For the first time, one thought came to me with perfect clarity: maybe the wedding nine days from now didn't need to happen after all. Chapter 2 The next morning, our wedding planner, Tessa, came by with the final seating chart for us to sign off on. The tables closest to ours were reserved for both sets of parents, the wedding party, and a few of our closest relatives. I scanned the list and quickly spotted a name that didn't belong among them. That person had been assigned the seat closest to us. Claire Howard. I turned the tablet toward Noah. "Why is she sitting here?" Noah was answering emails and didn't even look up. "The tables for our other friends are all full. It'd be awkward to squeeze her in by herself. What's wrong with letting her sit a little closer?" "Why does she have to sit next to our parents? That's the problem." He finally looked up, frowning, and lowered his voice. "You already humiliated her in front of everyone last night. Her stomach was killing her, and she kept asking me if she'd said something wrong. Irene, can you please stop making everyone out to be a villain?" Tessa, sitting across from us, looked uncomfortable. I took a deep breath and let it go. But when we got to the ceremony section of the schedule, Noah pointed to the line that read "Music Before the Bride's Entrance." "Let's change this. Claire's a good singer. We can have her sing a song as her way of wishing us well." I put my pen down. "No." "Why not?" "I don't want a woman who's celebrated seven 'wedding anniversaries' with my fiancé taking the stage at my wedding in a gown, holding a microphone, and wishing me well. Just the thought makes me sick." Noah's expression darkened instantly. "Are you seriously never going to let go of what she said last night?" "I'm not the one who said it. She did." "It was a joke." "And she makes the same joke with you every year?" "Irene." He rubbed his forehead, annoyed. "It's just a wedding. Why do you have to make everything so exhausting?" For a moment, I didn't say anything. I'd spent seven months planning this "just a wedding." From the RSVPs, travel arrangements, and hotel bookings to the flowers, menu, and vows, I'd handled every single detail on my own. Every time, Noah said he was busy with work and told me to decide. I'd always thought it was because he trusted my taste. I'd thought that as long as he was waiting for me at the end of the aisle on our wedding day, none of the work it took to get there would matter. Only now did I realize that trust had nothing to do with it. He just never thought any of it was worth his time. That night, I started getting chills. When I took my temperature, the digital thermometer read 103. Every bone in my body ached, and the fever medicine barely helped. My parents had just checked into their hotel, and I didn't want to worry them in the middle of the night, so the only person I could call was Noah. He took a long time to answer. "What's up?" he drawled. "I have a fever. I took something, but it won't go down." I could hear water running steadily through the phone. Then I heard Leah's voice. "Noah, where'd you put the towel that was by the bathroom door? The floor's soaked." My grip on the phone slowly tightened. "Where are you?" "A pipe burst at Leah's apartment, and maintenance can't come until tomorrow morning. I came over to help her shut off the main valve." "Can you come home now?" I almost never talked to him like that, practically begging. The line went quiet for a few seconds. "Okay," he said. "Give me half an hour." I wrapped myself in a blanket and sat on the couch to wait. The living room light stayed on the whole time. 12:30. One. Two. Three. The fever left me drifting in and out. When I woke again, it was already light outside. At seven in the morning, a text from Noah finally popped up. "Was wiped out last night and fell asleep on Leah's couch. Is your fever down?" Less than ten seconds later, a second one came in. "Oh, and let's have Claire sing at the wedding after all. She's been practicing for ages. Don't let all that go to waste." I leaned back on the couch and stared at those two texts for a long time. Then I swiped the notifications away and locked my phone. I didn't answer either one. Chapter 3 When Noah and I first got together, he wasn't like this. Five years ago, my father had a heart attack and was rushed to the ER in the middle of the night. Noah was out of state on a business trip, but after I called, he drove for more than three hours through the night to get back. At four in the morning, he sat with me in the hospital hallway, put his jacket over my shoulders, and said just one thing. "Irene, don't be scared. I'm here." Those words stayed with me for five whole years. When my father had surgery, Noah took three days off work to help me deal with the insurance, pick up prescriptions, and drive my mother back and forth. The day my father was discharged, Noah carried two big bags in one hand and kept the other free to hold mine. Back then, I truly believed this was the man I'd spend the rest of my life with. That was exactly why, whenever he let me down, I'd instinctively excuse the man in front of me by remembering the man he'd been back then. One year, for his birthday, I booked a table at his favorite restaurant a month in advance. I waited from early evening until ten that night. He never showed. His excuse was that Claire had just gone through a breakup and was crying so hard in a bar bathroom that she couldn't stand up. Over the phone, Noah said, "She hasn't had anyone close to her in years. If I don't go, something could really happen to her." In the end, I blew out the candles alone, boxed up the cake with his name on it, and took it home. Our worst fight ever was over Claire too. That night, she got drunk and kissed him. She didn't come clean about it. I saw it myself when I drove over to pick Noah up. In the parking lot, Claire had her arms around his neck, and their lips were pressed together. When Noah saw me, he shoved her away like she'd burned him. When we got home, he spent two hours explaining. "She was blackout drunk. She had no idea what she was doing. I didn't react in time, and by the time I pushed her away, you'd already seen us. Irene, if I really had feelings for her, why would I still be with you?" I asked him just one question. "From now on, can you keep your distance from her?" He said yes without a second's hesitation. "Of course." The next day, he took me to look at apartments. Standing in an empty living room, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and said, "Once we have a home that's really ours, you won't feel insecure anymore." So I forgave him. Again. We ended up buying that apartment. But once we actually moved in, Claire got a spare key, Leah knew the codes to the garage and the front door, and Ethan and the rest of them never gave us a heads-up before coming over to drink. Many nights, I'd come home late from work, open the door, and find seven or eight people in the living room. Someone would be wearing the slippers I'd bought for myself. Someone would be drinking out of my mug. Someone else would have piled takeout containers on the dining table I'd just wiped down. Claire's favorite thing was lying on the couch I'd spent two weeks picking out, hugging a throw pillow and smiling at me. "Irene, your couch is so comfy." Noah would correct her without a second thought. "Your place, my place, what's the difference? We're all family here. Make yourself at home." And everyone would laugh. Except me. I'd be standing in the entryway like a renter who'd wandered in by mistake. I was already exhausted by then. But every time I wanted to blow up, I'd think of the Noah in that hospital hallway at four in the morning. I kept telling myself Noah was just too involved in his friends' lives. He was softhearted. He didn't know where to draw the line. None of that meant he didn't love me. Until seven days before the wedding. I was in the study looking for my passport and birth certificate for our marriage-license appointment the next day when I came across a red velvet box at the very back of a drawer. I thought it was a wedding surprise from Noah. But when I opened it, there was a delicate diamond bracelet inside. I'd seen it before. A few months earlier, Claire had posted a selfie with one hand raised to block the sun. The bracelet was on her wrist. I sat in the study with the box in my hands for a long time. When Noah came home that night, I set the box down in front of him. He took one look at it and frowned. "You went through my stuff?" "You gave her this bracelet?" "Yes." "For Valentine's Day?" "She was in a really bad place back then." "And what about me?" Noah took off his jacket like he couldn't understand why I cared at all. "It's not like you need stuff like that. She was posting things like 'What's the point of living?' every day back then. So I bought her a little something to cheer her up. What's the big deal?" "But you promised me you'd keep your distance from her." He'd finally had it. "How long ago was that? If your memory's so good, how come you never remember the good things I do for you?" I didn't say anything else. He put the velvet box away, then stopped at the bedroom door and turned back. "Don't change Claire's seat for the wedding. She asked me today if you even want her there." I sat on the couch and watched the sky outside the window slowly go dark. After a long time, I texted Tessa. "Could you please send me digital copies of all the contracts, payment records, and cancellation policies we have so far?" She wrote back quickly. "Are we making more changes to the schedule?" I looked at the folder on the table that held the insurance papers for my engagement ring, then slowly typed out my answer. "Yes. Maybe a lot." Chapter 4 On the morning of the wedding, Noah came to pick me up wearing a sharp, perfectly tailored dark suit. He stood at the door of my hotel suite, looking as relaxed as if nothing had happened in the past few days. For a second, he even looked like the young man who'd stood outside the ER five years ago after driving all night to be with me. "Ready?" He smiled and pinched my cheek, completely sure of himself. "I knew you couldn't actually go through with calling off the wedding." I didn't answer. When we pulled up at the hotel by the river, I walked into the bride's dressing room. The first person I saw was Claire. She wore a long, pure-white silk dress and pearl earrings, her hair carefully pinned up. Anyone who saw her alone in a wedding photo would probably assume she was the bride. I stopped. "Who told you to wear white?" Claire glanced down at her dress with an innocent expression. "Is this white? I switched dresses at the last minute this morning. I didn't give it much thought." Noah walked in just then and frowned, trying to smooth things over. "It's just a dress. You're the one in the wedding gown today. Who could actually steal your spotlight?" "This is my wedding." Claire's eyes immediately turned red, as if she'd been deeply wronged. "Forget it, Noah. Don't fight because of me. I'll just change." She covered her face, turned, and ran out. Noah glared at me, his chest heaving. "Happy now?" I ignored him. At 11:58 a.m., the ceremony began. The ballroom doors slowly swung open. Arm in arm with my father, I walked down the aisle as the band played. Noah stood in the center of the raised platform at the front of the ballroom. Above him was the white rose arch I'd personally approved, and every candle lining the aisle was lit. More than 200 guests rose from their seats and turned to look at me. I was halfway down the aisle when a commotion broke out in the back rows. Someone cried out, "Claire fainted!" I stopped. Claire was on the floor next to her chair, deathly pale and shaking all over. Noah barely hesitated. He ran straight down from the platform. The officiant froze in place, but the music kept playing. More than 200 guests turned their heads in unison to watch him. Noah pushed through the crowd and scooped Claire up off the floor. She clutched his collar, her voice weak and trembling. "I can't breathe... Noah, don't leave me here alone." The hotel manager had already asked someone to call 911. With my arm still linked through my father's, I stood in the middle of the wedding I'd spent seven months planning and watched my groom carry another woman in a white dress out of the room. I called out to him. "Noah." He looked back. "If you leave now, what happens to the wedding?" He looked frantic. "Look at her. How can I not help?" "The paramedics are on their way. The hotel staff are with her." "I still can't just leave her lying here alone!" "And what about me?" Noah finally seemed to lose patience with me, and his voice rose sharply. "Irene, she can't breathe! What's the big deal if the wedding's an hour late? Do you really have to compete with a sick woman right now?" The whole ballroom went silent. I looked at him. "Noah, if you carry her out that door, don't bother coming back." He looked at me for a few seconds. Right on cue, Claire started shaking again in his arms and clung tighter to his neck. Noah gritted his teeth. "Don't make me choose like this when someone's life is on the line." Then he carried her out without looking back. The band kept playing. Behind me, a slideshow of our engagement photos played on a loop. In one, Noah leaned down to kiss my forehead while I smiled with my guard completely down. People in the audience started whispering. I let go of my father's arm, gathered the heavy skirt of my gown in my hands, and climbed onto the platform one step at a time. The officiant's hands were shaking as he handed me the microphone. "Everyone." More than 200 pairs of eyes were on me. "Today's wedding is canceled. The food and drinks are already paid for, so please stay and eat. I'm sorry you came all this way just to see this circus." A wave of hushed gasps rippled through the room. Noah's mother was on her feet almost instantly. "Irene, don't do anything rash. Whatever the problem is, it can wait until Noah gets back. I'll make him apologize to you." I looked at her and gave a small smile. "Mrs. Grant, he's not going to be my husband." I took off my veil. Then I reached for my engagement ring. After two years, the ring was a little tight. I had to twist it several times to work it over my knuckle and off my finger. Then I set it down in the center of the platform. My finger suddenly felt impossibly light.