After six years of being in love, just when Jonah and I were discussing marriage, he suddenly told me to wait a little longer. His reason? He had to hold a grand wedding with his first love before he could marry me—because it was his first love’s dying mother’s final wish.
He couldn’t bear to let the elderly woman pass away with regret, so he tearfully made a promise by her hospital bed, swearing that he would give her daughter a home.
But he forgot that my mother had also been longing for my wedding for a long time.
I stood there, stunned, my chest tightening with disbelief. “What about me?”
Jonah exhaled sharply, his brows knitting together in frustration. “Can’t you have a little empathy? It’s just a two-month delay—are you that desperate to get married?”
His words struck like a slap.
I swallowed hard and tried again, my voice quieter. “Jonah… my mother has a heart condition. She’s been waiting for this for years. She—”
Before I could finish, he took out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly. Right in front of me, he booked his marriage registration appointment with Nadia.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
He didn’t even hesitate.
“Either way, Nadia will be the bride for this wedding. Your mother has to wait, even if she’s on her deathbed, for all I care.”
I stared at him, barely recognizing the man in front of me. The same Jonah who had once held my hand and vowed to love me forever was now casting me aside like I was nothing more than a trivial inconvenience.
As he turned on his heel and walked away, I felt something inside me snap. My fingers clenched around my phone as I dialed a familiar number.
“Ronan,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “I need a new groom for the wedding in ten days. Can you help me find one?”
——
Silence. Then, my brother’s incredulous voice. “Arabelle, what the hell is going on? You’re replacing the groom? Marriage isn’t a joke! Mom will be devastated if she finds out!”
It was precisely because I knew my mother couldn’t handle the shock that I turned to my brother for help. For six years, Jonah had refused to meet my parents. So, even though my mother knew I had a boyfriend, she had never seen his face.
“Ronan, I’m serious. I can’t marry him.”
I had no intention of committing bigamy.
I expected my brother to lecture me, to tell me I was acting recklessly. Instead, after a beat of silence, he let out a heavy sigh.
“I told you to be careful with him when he started seeing you behind my back. If you hadn’t been so damn crazy about him, I wouldn’t have even bothered acknowledging him.” His voice lowered, almost contemplative. “But honestly? This is probably for the best.”
He hesitated, then added, “You know, before Mom and Dad even knew about you and Jonah, they already picked out someone for you. Remember that guy who always stared at you like he was hypnotized? Turns out, he’s been waiting for you to break up. Just the other day, he was joking about crashing your wedding if he thought Jonah wasn’t good enough…”
At his words, an old memory resurfaced—one I had buried long ago.
Back then, my parents had indeed mentioned another suitor, but Jonah and I had already been secretly dating for two years.
I was devoted to Jonah. How could I have even considered marrying a stranger?
I still remembered the way Jonah had reacted when I told him.
He was furious.
The moment I hung up the phone, he had pinned me against the wall, his kisses burning with possessiveness, as if he could erase the mere thought of another man.
“Arabelle, you can only marry me—no one else!”
His voice had trembled, his eyes red with emotion. That night, he had held me so tightly, whispering over and over that I was his forever.
He had even finally admitted to my brother that he had been dating me, confessing that we had already made a lifelong commitment to each other.
Ronan had scolded him for sneaking around behind his back, but in the end, he let it go—on one condition.
“Promise me,” my brother had demanded, “that you’ll love and cherish her more than I ever could.”
Jonah had knelt right then and there, swearing without hesitation.
“In my life, I will only love Arabelle.”
His “life” turned out to be incredibly short.
The wedding was just ten days away and I had no time to waste.
I cut my brother off before he could say anything else. My voice was calm, but my decision was already set in stone.
“Then let him be my groom. He doesn’t need to crash my wedding.”
As soon as I finished speaking, movement by the doorway caught my eye.
Jonah.
He had returned—probably to grab the ID card he had forgotten—but now, he stood frozen in place, staring at me as if I were a stranger.
“Crashing the wedding?” His voice was sharp, laced with suspicion. “Who’s crashing a wedding?”
His expression darkened as he took a step closer, his gaze locking onto mine.
“Arabelle, I said I’m marrying you and I mean it! If you still want to be my wife, then stop playing games! If you dare to ruin my wedding with Nadia, don’t blame me for leaving you!”
The absurdity of his words nearly made me laugh.
He was the one marrying someone else. And yet, in his twisted mind, I was the villain.
For six years, on every birthday, he had promised, “We’ll get married next year.”
But every “next year,” he had always come up with an excuse. A delay. A reason to avoid meeting my parents. A reason to postpone the wedding.
And now, he had found the perfect excuse. His first love’s mother’s dying wish. How poetic.
I met his gaze, my heart eerily calm. For the first time in six years, I didn’t feel the urge to cry.
I only felt exhausted.
Jonah always had a reason to delay our wedding.
At first, he said I was too young and he didn’t want to tie me down with marriage. Then, he claimed he wanted to start a business first to provide me with a better life and put my family at ease. Every excuse sounded noble, as if everything he did was for my sake.
I loved Jonah, so I believed him. I truly thought he had my best interests at heart. Whenever my brother grumbled about wanting to beat Jonah to a pulp, I defended him.
I waited for six years. My friends even joked that if I didn’t get married soon, the relationship would fall apart before I ever became a bride.
Finally, Jonah proposed.
The wedding date was set, the preparations were underway—but he still refused to meet my parents. He claimed he wanted to surprise them at the wedding.
Then, just like that, Nadia returned with her terminally ill mother.
That was when I realized—I had been a joke all along.
I let out a self-deprecating laugh and pulled Jonah’s ID card from the drawer, tossing it toward him.
“Relax, I have no interest in marrying a second-hand husband.”
The words seemed to hit him hard. His brows furrowed and he said,
“How many times do I have to explain this before you get it? What I’m giving her is just a show, a wedding in name only. Once it’s over, I’m completely yours. Why can’t you be satisfied with that?”
“Right, of course. Go ahead and get your marriage certificate then.”
Jonah’s fingers trembled slightly as he took the ID card.
Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe he was just trying to convince himself, but he hastily added, “Look, I’m not actually going to register the marriage with Nadia. We’re just going through the motions at the City Hall…”
If it was just for show, why did he need his ID?
I responded with a simple “oh,” my expression indifferent. Jonah seemed momentarily thrown off by my lack of reaction.
He hesitated, then stepped forward, trying to kiss me as if to soothe me—but before he could, Nadia, who had been eavesdropping at the door for who knew how long, suddenly barged in.
She lunged between us, using just enough force to knock me backward.
I lost my balance, stumbling onto the floor. At the same time, she flung herself dramatically into Jonah’s arms.
He caught her instinctively, but the momentum sent them both toppling over.
I sat on the cold floor and watched as Nadia ended up straddling Jonah. Her cheeks flushed, her breath shallow and then—she murmured in a voice just loud enough for me to hear,
“Jonah, your abs are still as hard as they used to be…”
Jonah stiffened, coughing awkwardly. He looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t push her away. His hands remained firmly on her waist.
Nadia turned her gaze toward me, her eyes welling up with tears. She bit her lip, as if on the verge of sobbing.
“Arabelle, I’m so sorry! Please, you can yell at me, hit me, do whatever you need to—just don’t take it out on Jonah! If he gets hurt…”
Disgusted by their pathetic act, I pushed myself up from the floor and walked straight out of the room.
“If you’re so worried, then go ahead and check him out. Want me to give you some privacy?”
Jonah’s expression twisted. His face, already tinged with lust, darkened instantly. I wasn’t sure if he was holding something back or just furious.
“Arabelle! That’s disgusting.”
Disgusting?
It hadn’t even been thirty seconds and he was already reminiscing about old times with Nadia. Who was being disgusting here?
I turned back and kindly closed the door for them.
As I waited for the elevator, I heard hurried footsteps behind me.
Nadia, her face still glowing, her lips suspiciously moist, rushed over to block my path.
“Arabelle, I’m really sorry! Please don’t misunderstand things between Jonah and me. That was truly just an accident! If it weren’t for my mother insisting on seeing a marriage certificate, I wouldn’t have asked Jonah for this favor. I beg you, please don’t cause trouble at the wedding.”
She even made a move to kneel before me.
Before she could, Jonah—now looking perfectly composed—grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. His glare was ice-cold.
“Arabelle, I’m warning you—don’t take this too far. If things spiral out of control, you won’t be able to fix it.”
His voice was laced with authority, a command I was supposed to obey.
“From today until the wedding is over, you are to stay at home and behave yourself. I’ll arrange for a bodyguard to keep an eye on you.”
Jonah didn’t even hesitate. He pulled out his phone and called his assistant, instructing him to send someone over to keep an eye on me, making sure I wouldn’t “cause trouble.”
Then, after glancing at the time, he hurried off with Nadia to the City Hall.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I caught the fleeting smugness in Nadia’s eyes—the subtle arch of her brow, the slight tilt of her lips. A silent taunt.
And then, Jonah’s voice drifted through just before the doors fully closed.
“Nadia, did you bring your ID?”
It was never about her mother. This whole show was just for me.
Before the bodyguards Jonah arranged could arrive, I grabbed my keys and left. I had something more important to do.
The bridal shop was quiet when I arrived. The familiar scent of fresh flowers and delicate fabrics filled the air, but something felt off. The shop owner, usually warm and welcoming, looked startled to see me.
“Miss Arabelle… you’re here?”
I nodded. “I came to pick up my wedding dress.”
At that, the owner’s face twisted in hesitation. “Oh… Mr. Jonah already picked it up a few days ago.”
A cold prickle ran down my spine. “What?”
“He even brought a woman to try it on,” the owner added, voice dropping. “I wasn’t in the shop at the time, but…”
My expression must have darkened because he immediately turned to the computer.
“Let me pull up the surveillance footage.”
On the screen, Nadia stood in front of the mirror, draped in my wedding dress. The ivory silk cascaded down her body, hugging her figure perfectly. She took slow, deliberate steps toward Jonah, who stood frozen, staring at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen.
“Jonah, do I look good?”
Jonah’s lips parted slightly. Then, a smile broke across his face.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “Even more stunning than I pictured in my dreams.”
Nadia bit her lip, her eyes misting over. “Jonah… pinch me. I need to know if this is real. All this time, I’ve only been able to picture us like this in my dreams…”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Jonah, visibly distressed, bent down and brushed his lips against her skin, kissing the tear away.
“Silly girl,” he murmured. “It’s a good thing you showed up. Or I might have found someone else to marry…”
The owner, standing beside me, looked beyond uncomfortable.
“Miss Arabelle, I—I’m so sorry. This was a mistake by my staff… I’ll find an excuse to get the dress back for you.”
I let out a slow breath. There was no mistake.
Everyone could see it—I had been played for a fool. Cheated on. And my wedding dress had been stolen right from under me.
The owner, fuming on my behalf, immediately dialed Jonah.
The call barely rang before Jonah’s sharp voice came through.
“Did Arabelle ask you to get the dress back? Tell her it’ll be returned once we’re done with it—no one is stealing from her!”
Shameless. Absolutely shameless.
I didn’t even want him anymore. Why would I want a dress Nadia had already worn?
The owner, holding the abruptly disconnected phone, looked at me, visibly mortified. “Miss Arabelle, I… I can compensate you—”
But I wasn’t interested in compensation. I knew exactly who should pay for this.
Without hesitation, I sent Jonah a screenshot of the original wedding dress order, complete with the price.
Not even a minute later, my phone rang.
Jonah’s voice was laced with irritation. “Arabelle, what do you mean? Just borrowing your dress and you’re asking me for money? Shouldn’t you be grateful it’s getting extra wear?”
I almost laughed.
Yet, the moment Nadia’s voice cooed in the background—”Jonah, I want to keep it as a keepsake…”—the line went silent.
Then, a notification popped up on my screen.
[Bank Transfer Received.]
And a second later, Jonah’s text followed, [When we get married, just rent a dress from the shop. No need to waste money.]
I stared at the message. Six years together and for the first time, I realized—I never truly knew Jonah.
My gaze flicked to the location tracker in our couple’s app. He was still at the City Hall.
I thought it would hurt. But I felt nothing at all.
With a quiet exhale, I disabled our shared location.
Just then, the arrival of Jonah’s assistant, Zane, broke the silence. Two bodyguards trailed behind him.
Zane, who had once greeted me with warmth and respect, now looked at me with undisguised contempt. His tone remained polite, but it carried a distant coldness.
“Miss Arabelle, as long as you refrain from causing any problems, we won’t interfere with where you go.”
A warning.
I couldn’t be bothered with fair-weather lackeys. Without another word, I drove straight to my office and resigned from my job.
But when I finally returned home, something else was waiting for me.
At the parking garage, my car slowed as the automatic gate failed to lift. I rolled down my window. The security guard checked the system, his brows furrowing.
“Apologies, Miss. Your usual parking spot is now registered to another car.”
I scanned the code again, but the parking garage gate remained stubbornly closed. Through the barrier, I saw a sleek, unfamiliar car parked in my designated spot.
Recognition struck me instantly. It was the car Jonah had promised to give me two months ago.
But now, the person stepping out of it wasn’t me. It was Nadia.
She saw me immediately, her gaze flickering in my direction. But instead of acknowledging my presence, she put on a deliberate act—lifting a bright red marriage certificate and waving it in front of Jonah.
“Jonah,” she said, “as soon as the City Hall opens tomorrow, I’ll go with you to apply for a divorce. That way, I won’t delay your wedding with Arabelle.”
The only thing redder than the marriage certificate was Nadia’s teary eyes.
Jonah reached out, rubbing her head with an affectionate indulgence. His voice was low, coaxing.
“Silly girl,” he murmured. “Just wait a little longer. Arabelle won’t marry anyone but me. She’d wait years if she had to.”
They turned away, walking hand in hand toward our—no, their—home. I stood still, watching their retreating figures, but I felt no pain. Just a quiet, simmering exhaustion.
Without hesitation, I booked myself a hotel.
But the air in the room felt suffocating, so I changed into my running gear and headed to a nearby park.
The rhythmic pounding of my footsteps against the pavement was grounding, but the tightness in my chest refused to ease. I pushed forward, completing one lap, then another, letting the motion carry me through the hollow ache of betrayal.
And then I saw them.
Jonah and Nadia, fingers interlocked, strolling through the park.
Jonah had never liked night runs. But there he was, indulging her, listening as she whispered sweet nothings, her laughter like a delicate chime in the night air.
I had no interest in their love-struck performance.
Slipping on my headphones, I turned in the opposite direction, increasing my pace. My mind was already elsewhere—so much so that I didn’t notice I was being followed.
Until it was too late.
A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me backward with brutal force. My body slammed against something solid—a car.
I thrashed wildly, trying to break free, but the grip was unrelenting. Through the reflection in the window, I caught a glimpse of my assailant.
A woman. A face eerily similar to Nadia’s.
Not an exact match—but close enough.
“If you dare to steal my daughter’s man,” she hissed into my ear, “you deserve to die!”
Panic surged through me. My eyes darted around, desperately searching for help.
And then I saw Zane. He stood not far away, phone pressed to his ear. Our eyes met for a fleeting second.
I pleaded silently, frantically waving my free hand. But he merely turned his back, taking a slow step away. The two bodyguards beside him followed suit, like they had seen nothing.
The woman behind me was shockingly strong—nothing like someone supposedly dying from a terminal illness.
Before I could react further, a sharp pain bloomed at the back of my skull. My vision blurred. My body gave out.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
***
When I came to, my limbs were leaden, my breath shallow. A metallic taste coated my tongue.
Something was wrong.
Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus. The air was thick with the scent of blood. I was in some kind of cheap motel room.
And then I saw her. Nadia’s mother lay crumpled on the floor, pale and motionless, blood pooling beneath her.
Before I could even process the scene, the door burst open with a violent kick.
Jonah stormed in, his face contorted in fury. His men followed closely behind.
A scream shattered the silence.
“Mom!”
Nadia shoved past them, her wail piercing. She collapsed beside her mother’s limp body, hands shaking as she tried to rouse her.
“Mom, what happened to you? Don’t scare me like this!”
Her cries were raw, filled with hysteria. Then, as if suddenly remembering my presence, she turned on me, her eyes blazing with accusation.
“Arabelle!” she shrieked. “What have I ever done to you? How could you be so cruel? My mom barely has any time left to live and you—”
She choked on a sob, her body trembling.
Jonah stood frozen, his usual composure cracking at the sight of so much blood. His hemophobia was well-known—he could hardly look, yet he forced himself to act.
Jaw clenched, he grabbed his phone, dialing emergency services. But that didn’t stop him from lashing out. With unbridled fury, he sent a vicious kick to my chest. Pain exploded through me, knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Arabelle, you’ve really disappointed me!” he spat.
As I struggled to breathe, Nadia latched onto his arm, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Jonah, forget it,” she pleaded. “This is all my fault. I never should have asked for your help. Right now, I just want my mom to be safe…”
Her voice broke on the last word.
Jonah’s anger flared anew. He turned sharply to Zane, his glare lethal.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on her? To make sure she didn’t cause trouble?”
Zane and the two bodyguards stiffened, exchanging quick glances before responding in unison.
“Miss Arabelle was driving too fast. We couldn’t keep up.”
It was a well-crafted excuse and Jonah didn’t even question it. After all, before I met him, I had a reputation for street racing. It was enough to make their lie believable.
Suppressing his discomfort, Jonah crouched down beside Nadia, his attention fully on her.
“Nadia, your mom’s strong. She’ll be okay.”
The woman on the ground trembled slightly. But she didn’t dare to open her eyes.
I let out a bitter laugh, the taste of blood thick on my tongue.
“Stop crying already,” I muttered, voice hoarse. “Or your mom won’t be able to keep up the act.”
The moment the words left my mouth, Nadia snapped.
With a wild, furious cry, she grabbed the blood-stained knife from the floor and lunged at me.
“Arabelle! I’ll give Jonah back to you, okay? Why did you hurt my mom and then slander her? Do you even have a conscience?”
Her grip on the knife was unsteady, her rage blinding.
Jonah moved in an instant, seizing her wrist before the blade could reach me. With a swift motion, he pried the weapon from her grasp.
Then, without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, holding her shaking body tightly against his own.
Nadia turned to him in disbelief, her voice shrill with anguish. “Jonah, my mother is barely clinging to life because of Arabelle and you’re still protecting her?”
Tears streamed down her pale face, her body trembling as if she would collapse at any moment. If I weren’t the one being framed, even I might have believed her—believed that I was some heartless monster who had done the unthinkable.
Under my gaze, Jonah gently wiped the blood off Nadia’s hands with his own sleeve, his touch tender. “I just don’t want you to dirty your hands,” he murmured, his voice soft in contrast to the madness unfolding around us.
Then, as if something in him shifted, he pushed Nadia aside and slowly walked toward me. His expression was unreadable, his steps unhurried, deliberate. My body tensed involuntarily, a chill creeping up my spine.
There was no warmth in his eyes as they locked onto mine. Only a cold, merciless calculation.
“Jonah, I didn’t hurt her mother!” My voice came out hoarse, raw. “She kidnapped me and staged this whole act! If you don’t believe me, you can—”
The words never left my lips.
A sharp, searing pain shot through my body.
I gasped, staring in disbelief at the knife now embedded in the back of my hand. The cold metal sent shockwaves of agony through my nerves, the pain so intense it forced blood up my throat. I coughed violently, splattering red across the floor.
Jonah, now spattered with my blood, stood unmoved.
His lips quivered slightly as he asked, almost absently, “Why… didn’t you dodge?”
Dodge?
He actually thought I let this happen. As if I could have done anything at all.
I was drugged. My limbs felt like lead. My body refused to move.
Yet, what truly twisted the knife deeper wasn’t the pain, but the memory of who he used to be.
There was a time when he would panic if I so much as lingered in bed a little longer. He would fuss, insist on taking me for a full medical checkup, afraid I might be ill.
Now, he couldn’t even see the bruises on my neck from being strangled. He couldn’t see that I could barely stay conscious.
All he saw was Nadia’s tears.
“Arabelle, don’t blame me.” His voice was eerily calm. “This is your punishment for your mistake. I hope you’ll learn from it…”
He had already passed judgment—without hesitation, without verification.
The ambulance arrived swiftly, but I was not among the priorities. They took Nadia’s mother away, Jonah by her side, holding her hand as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
I, however, was left behind, discarded in a corner like an afterthought. With the knife still lodged in my hand.
A kind stranger took me to the hospital, where I finally regained consciousness hours later. The first thing I did was report the incident to the police.
Jonah stormed into my hospital room not long after, his face dark with fury. “Arabelle, what the hell are you doing?”
His voice was laced with impatience, as if I were a nuisance. “The evidence and witness testimonies are all against you. Have you lost your mind? Call off the report immediately! I can’t marry a woman with a criminal record—”
I didn’t even look at him.
“Okay,” I said flatly.
For the first time, Jonah hesitated. Perhaps he expected me to fight back, to plead. But I didn’t.
Satisfied, he left without a single word of concern.
The day of my discharge, I went home to pack my things—only to find the entrance decorated for the wedding, the one that should have been mine. And the door had a new passcode.
I hired a locksmith to break in, gathered my belongings and left. After all, I had a wedding to attend.
As my plane landed, my phone buzzed with a call from my lawyer. There were new developments in the case.
I glanced at the damning evidence in my hands, my lips curling into a cold smile.
I sent Jonah a message. [Congratulations on your wedding.]
Jonah, standing at the entrance of the venue, glanced at his phone. His expression darkened as he turned to Zane.
“Make sure to guard all exits,” he ordered. “Arabelle must not be allowed to cause trouble.”
Zane, after skimming the latest news headlines about my wedding, thumped his chest.
“Rest assured, Sir. She’s too busy trying to get your attention—she won’t be coming to make a scene.”
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