Wrong Time, Right Person

Allen's Perspective

One month before I was supposed to marry my girlfriend, Cecilia, she asked me to let another man wear my wedding suit and move into my house.

It all started three months ago when her "old friend" Darren returned from overseas, supposedly with less than a year to live. A week ago, Cecilia told me Darren's dying wish was to be a groom before he passed, and she was the chosen bride. I kept saying no. But she brought it up every day, insisting she had to help Darren because he'd helped her when her company was in crisis three years ago. She needed to fulfill his wish.

I was furious.

But in the end, I gave up the house and left.

"You're insane," I said, staring at Cecilia angrily. "We're about to get married. Our wedding. The one I've been planning for six months."

"I know, we will. But Darren—"

"No." I took a step back. "I don't care if he's your best friend. You can't give our wedding day to someone else."

"We have this house because of him!" Cecilia looked at me, somewhat impatient. "That big contract three years ago, the one that let us buy this land, that was Darren's doing. His family's company was the client. I called him, asked for a favor, and the deal was done the next day. Without that money, we'd still be saving."

"Cecilia, that contract—"

"Was Darren!" she interrupted. "His family made one call, and everything was settled. Don't you understand? We owe him. This house exists because of him."

"Owing a favor doesn't mean giving him our wedding!"

"He's dying, Allen! He has one wish, and you're being so selfish—"

"Selfish?" I snapped. "I've spent three years building a life with you. I designed this whole house. I planned our wedding. And now you want to hand it all to another man out of guilt?"

"It's just a ceremony. One day. That's all I'm asking."

"No. Absolutely not. It's our wedding. Mine and yours. Not his."

Cecilia gave me a helpless look, grabbed her purse, and walked out.

From that day on, she started freezing me out. She didn't answer my calls or reply to texts.

This morning, I came to the house alone to handle the final details.

When we were decorating before, I used to ask Cecilia what she thought. She always gave the same answer: "You're the designer. Whatever you think looks good."

I thought she trusted me, believed in my taste. Now I wonder if she just didn't care at all.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out. An email notification, sender showing "A Friend."

I frowned. I didn't recognize the address. But I opened it anyway.

The email had no body, just two attachments: a PDF and a video file.

I opened the PDF first. It was a scanned copy of a property transfer agreement, with Darren clearly listed as the beneficiary, dated exactly when he reappeared in Cecilia's life. The remarks even said, "As compensation for the marriage."

I stared at the screen until the text blurred. Then I opened the video file.

The video was shaky, clearly secretly recorded. The angle showed Cecilia sitting on a hotel bed, her face in profile. A man's voice off-screen said:

"What if Allen doesn't agree to let me have the wedding?"

Cecilia sighed. "He won't find out. I'll plan everything with him as usual. But on the wedding day, it'll be you walking down the aisle. By the time he realizes what's happening, it'll be too late."

"You really think he won't notice?" Darren laughed. "That house he designed for so long... his heart will break when he finds out."

"He'll get over it," Cecilia said carelessly. "Darren, you helped me when I had no one. And you're... you are now. I have to help you. I'll handle things with Allen. He won't leave me."

"I'll prepare a room for you in the house. You can live there. If I say you're sick and need help, Allen won't suspect anything."

The video ended.

I stood frozen, staring at my phone screen.

The phone slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor. I didn't pick it up.

This house. Our wedding. All of it, my dream, my work, my heart, and she planned to give it all to him. But she knew what this house meant to me!

My mother died when I was eight, and my father remarried six months later. My childhood was spent on relatives' couches and in empty rooms because my stepmother made me feel like a burden. After being with Cecilia, I dreamed countless times of having our own home, but clearly, she had forgotten all that.

I blinked, tears immediately welling up. Then I slumped weakly to the floor. I didn't know how to process this. In that moment, I finally understood my opinion meant nothing, and her love for me was negligible.

Then I wiped my eyes and struggled to my feet.

I was going to ask her in person if she really thought that way, as in the video. This was my last chance for her. If she didn't choose me... then I would choose to end it.