I often think back to those weeks before my wedding, as if they were a faded chapter in an old diary, and still shiver at how quickly the story unraveled. I had believed I was about to become the wife of a prosperous businessman, only for his actual wife and their three children to storm the ceremony.
The girl, youve lost your mind! the couturier thundered, flinging his arms wide. Shes an exclusive dress you cant just stitch her up again! Its like asking Leonardo daVinci to draw a moustache on the MonaLisa!
Im paying £4000 for this gown and I expect it to fit perfectly, I said calmly, though my heart was racing. You can see the excess fabric here. Ive lost weight in the last month.
You weighed the same at the last fitting! the tailor retorted. A bride can lose a few pounds, but not like that. This dress was cut to your exact measurements.
MrClarke, I sighed, the wedding is in three days. I have no time for quarrels. Please make the alterations I asked for.
He gave me a sour glance, then nodded. The dress indeed hung loosely. Id shed five kilos in the month leading up to the weddingnot through diets, but through endless errands and nerves. Invitations, the venue, the photographer, the floristsall fell on my shoulders. Oliver was far too absorbed in his enterprises to bother with the minutiae.
Fine, MrClarke softened, pricking the fabric with his pins. Well make a queen of you. But stop losing weight, or I cant guarantee the result.
I smiled at my reflection, the white dress with its lace bodice and full skirt looking like something out of a fairy tale. I turned, admiring the silhouette. In three days I would be MrsOliver Smythe, the owner of a construction firm and, by all accounts, the most charming man I had ever met.
My phone buzzed. A message from Oliver: Running late at the meeting. See you tonight. Kiss.
I swallowed a sigh. It was the third delay that week, but business demanded attention. After the wedding we would finally have time for each other.
That evening, while waiting for Oliver at home, I thumbed through photos for the wedding album. There was our first seaside trip, a ski holiday in the Alps, and the restaurant where he proposed. Ten monthshardly a long courtshipyet when you know hes the one, why wait?
A knock soundedOliver returned, tired but smiling, tossing his jacket onto the armchair and pulling me into a kiss.
Sorry for the delay. Investors from Manchester needed my focus.
No trouble, I replied. Are you hungry? Ill heat up dinner.
I grabbed a bite in the office, he said, blinking. Tell me how the fitting went.
As I recounted the tailors temperamental whims, he nodded absentmindedly, his eyes drifting to the phone in his hand.
Youre not listening, I said.
Got an urgent matter, he typed quickly. What were you saying?
Never mind, I stood. Ill take a shower. Its been a exhausting day.
The water washed away the fatigue but not the unease. Lately Oliver seemed distantperhaps the tension of the upcoming wedding, perhaps work troubles? I stepped out of the bath, wrapped in a towel, and heard him speaking softly on the phone in the bedroom.
Yes, everythings fine. No, dont worry, Ive got it under control Yes, of course Me too
I froze in the hallway. Who was he speaking to so tenderly? I slipped to the door.
Ill be home soon, he said, ending the call.
Home? He *was* home. A cold knot tightened in my chest. I opened the door.
Who were you talking to?
Oliver startled, turned, and said, Victor, my deputy. We were discussing tomorrows meeting.
You said youd be home soon.
What? he frowned, then laughed. Ah, I meant Id be back at the office soon. Misspoke. Im exhausted, Marish.
I wanted to argue, but he already moved to embrace me. His scent was a blend of expensive cologne and a faint trace of something floralperhaps his secretarys perfume? I dismissed the thought.
Three days, and youll be MrsSmythe, he whispered. Sounds lovely, doesnt it?
I leaned into his chest, the doubts that fluttered from prewedding nerves feeling suddenly petty. What could possibly go wrong?
The next day I visited my friend Katherine to collect the beaded shoes she had been embellishing for the wedding.
You look worried, she observed over tea. Weddingday nerves?
Im not sure, I said, swirling the cup. Oliver was on the phone yesterday, said hed be home soon, even though he was already home.
Maybe he just misspoke, she suggested. And the perfume?
It just smelled different.
Katherine, youre being paranoid, she waved a hand. He runs a company with a hundred staff, half of them women. Of course he could have a hint of perfume.
Maybe youre right, I replied, though the anxiety lingered.
Weve spent weekends together, gone on holidays. Isnt that enough to know a man? she asked.
Sure, I said, but weve never met his parents.
They live in another town, elderly, cant travel. Theyll be at the wedding.
Its odd we never visited them in ten months.
Olivers busy, you know that.
Yes, construction firm, offices in the City, trips abroad Katherine listed. Why arent any of his business partners coming to the wedding?
Theyll be, I insisted. Victor will be there, along with a few others.
Just a few? she frowned. No friends?
He doesnt like big crowds.
Katherines skeptical look lingered. She had never trusted Oliver fully; he seemed too perfect, too mysterious, too occupied. But not every man is an open book.
That night I finally spoke to Oliver in the kitchen while he perused something on his tablet and I prepared dinner.
Oliver, may I ask are we truly ready for marriage? I began, stirring the sauce nervously.
What do you mean? he looked up, surprised.
Weve never been to each others homes, Ive never met your parents, I barely know any of your friends.
Weve talked about this a hundred times, he replied, setting the tablet aside. Ive spent most of the time in your flat while my house is being renovated. Youll meet my parents at the wedding. As for friends I dont have many. Im a workaholic, you know that.
Yes, but
No buts, he said, moving behind me and pulling me close. In two days youll be my wife. Well live in the new house I bought for us. A wonderful life, I promise.
I nodded. I had never seen the house he spoke of; he said it would be a surprise after the wedding. The thought was romantic, yet it also prickled my nerves.
By the way, have you collected the wedding rings from the jeweller?
Oliver paused.
Not yet. Ill drop by tomorrow.
Maybe I should go myself? I need to be in that area.
No! he snapped. Its my responsibility. Ill take care of everything.
That night sleep eluded me. Oliver lay beside me, breathing peacefully, while I stared at the ceiling, wrestling with my feelings. I loved him, trusted him, yet a part of me screamed that something was amiss.
At dawn Oliver left early, saying he needed to settle work matters before the wedding. I was alone and decided to act. I found Victors number in my contactsOlivers supposed deputyand called.
Hello? a male voice answered.
This is Marilyn, Oliver Smythes bride, I introduced. I need to confirm details for tomorrows event.
What event? Victor asked, confused.
Our wedding, I said, feeling a chill. Youre invited, arent you?
A long pause.
I dont know any Oliver Smythe, he finally said. Perhaps you have the wrong number.
But youre supposed to be his deputy in the construction firm
Im an accountant at a travel agency. Ive never worked in construction.
I sank into the chair, my legs numb. I thanked him and hung up, staring at the wall. Who was the man Id been planning a life with?
With trembling hands I searched the internet for the company Oliver claimed to own. I found a handful of firms with similar names, but none listed an Oliver Smythe as director. I checked social media, looked for news of major building projects, found nothing.
I opened the cupboard, pulling out a box of photos and documents Oliver had left. His passport was missing, but there were drivers licences and a business card. I examined the licencecould it be forged? I phoned the number on the card; the automated reply said the line didnt exist.
Just then Oliver slipped back in, catching me folding the papers.
What are you up to? he asked, kissing my cheek.
Just looking at our photographs, I lied. Tomorrows a big day.
Yes, he smiled, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. I got the rings. Want to see?
I nodded. He opened the box, revealing two gold bands set on a cushion.
Beautiful, I whispered, a lump forming in my throat.
Want to try them on? he offered, holding out the smaller one.
No, I stepped back. Bad omen. Youll wear them tomorrow.
He laughed. My superstitious bride. Fine, itll be a surprise then. He smelled of expensive cologne mixed with a faint floral noteperhaps his secretarys perfume. I dismissed it.
Im heading to Katies for the night, I announced. Old traditiongroom doesnt see bride before the ceremony.
Of course, he replied. Ill be at a friends. See you tomorrow, love. He kissed me long, as if it were our last. A tear slipped down my cheek.
At Katies, I poured out everything: the call to Victor, the fruitless search, the odd smells, the inconsistencies.
Im scared he isnt who he says he is, I concluded, wiping my eyes.
Lets check his full name, Katie said, already at her laptop. Oliver Ivor Smythe, born 15May1979.
She typed, brows furrowing.
No records, she said. Usually a successful businessman appears somewherenews, forums, social media.
Maybe hes secretive?
To that degree? Katie shook her head. And the fake Victor youre being duped. Why?
Money? I guessed. But I have none. Im just a schoolteacher.
No house, no car.
Maybe he plans to marry, take the gifts, and vanish?
Exactly, Katie replied. Ive read about such scams. They usually target welloff women.
I lay awake that night, the decision forming like a quiet tide. I would go to the ceremony, face the man who had lied for ten months, and ask why.
The wedding was set in a modest country restaurant outside the city. I arrived an hour early to change and ready myself. Guests were already gatheringmy parents, friends, colleagues. Olivers side was conspicuously empty.
In the bridal suite, my friends fussed over my dress and hair. The gown fit perfectly, yet it felt foreign, like a costume.
Olivers here, one friend announced, peeking in. Looking dashing in his suit!
My heart hammered. Was this the moment of truth?
Fifteen minutes remained before the ceremony. I stood by the window watching the last cars pull up. A silver minivan halted, and a welldressed woman stepped out, clutching three children. She whispered something, and the kids obediently followed her toward the restaurants entrance.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Something told me this was no accident. I slipped out of the suite and entered the main hall, where guests were already seated. I saw Oliver, his back to the door, chatting with the registrar. The doors swung open, and the woman with the children entered.
Silence fell. Oliver turned slowly, his face paling.
Peter? the woman said, voice trembling. Whats happening?
I moved closer, still bewildered. Was it Oliver or Peter?
Alice, he finally managed. What are you doing here?
What am I doing? Alices voice cracked. Your mother called me, said you were getting married! Peter, I have three kids!
The room erupted in murmurs. I felt the floor slip from under me and clutched a nearby chair.
Oliver, I called out. Who is this woman?
What Oliver? Alice shouted. His name is Peter DmitriKerr. Hes my husband, the father of these children. He works in a car dealership.
I looked at the childrena boy of about ten, a younger boy, and a little girland saw the confusion in their eyes.
Dad? the older boy asked. Why are you in a suit? Is there a wedding?
Quiet, Kirill, Alice snapped. Dad will explain later.
PeterPeterfinally found his voice.
Alice, children, meet me outside. Ill explain.
No, Alice crossed her arms. Im not leaving until I know whats going on.
I stepped forward, staring straight into the eyes of the man I had loved.
Who are you, really? I asked softly. What is your true name?
He lowered his head.
Peter Kerr.
Are you married?
Yes.
And these are your children?
Yes.
A wave of devastation crashed over me. All those months, the declarations of love, the plans for a futurenothing but a lie.
Why? I managed to say. Why did you do this?
Peter remained silent. Alice struck his sleeve, eyes blazing.
This has been going on for two years, hasnt it? Your trips, the late meetings Youve been living a double life!
Not now, Alice, Peter tried to interject.
No, now! she shouted. I endured your absences, believed every word you said! And you
I interjected, Why pretend to be a businessman? Why lie about your job, your parents, the proposal?
The hall was so quiet a moth could have been heard fluttering. All eyes watched the drama unfold.
I I didnt plan this, Peter began, his voice cracked. It just got out of hand.
Out of hand? I echoed. You dated me for ten months, proposed, arranged a wedding, and now its all out of control?
He swallowed. I met you by chance. You were beautiful, intelligent. I wanted to impress you, so I said I ran my own company. Then I couldnt stop.
Why marry me? Alice asked.
Peter fell silent, gaze downcast.
Perhaps he intended to disappear after the wedding, take the gifts, the money, and vanish, Katie said, stepping forward. Is that it, Peter?
No! he protested. I could never do that to Marilyn.
But you did deceive her. And your wife, Katie added. How long did you plan to keep two families?
Peter said nothing. The silence screamed louder than any accusation.
Alice, did you know he was married? I asked.
No, I shook my head. I learned he was lying only yesterday. I never imagined it would be this grotesque.
Disgusting? Alice replied. Exactly.
She turned to the children.
Lets go home. We have no business here.
The children obeyed, heading for the exit. Alice lingered a moment.
Ill take the kids and go to my mother. You can stay here, Peter, but dont expect to come back.
She left, head held high.
Peter stood alone, surrounded by judgmental gazes. I looked at him, the man I thought I loved, and saw only a stranger.
You must leave, I whispered.
Marilyn, please, I can explain
Theres nothing to explain, I said, shaking my head. Just go.
He lingered a heartbeat longer, then turned and walked out. No one stopped him.
I stood in the middle of the hall, clad in a white dress, guests hushed around me. A strange mix of emptiness and relief filled my chest. Katie came over, embracing my shoulders.
Lets get out of here. Ill drive you home.
No, I said suddenly. Weve already paid for the banquet. The guests are here. Lets just celebrate.
What are we celebrating? Katie asked, bewildered.
My freedom, I replied with a faint smile.And as the band began to play, I lifted my glass, toasted my newfound strength, and danced alone beneath the chandeliers, savoring the quiet triumph of a life reclaimed.
