A Woman Showed Up at My Wedding Claiming to Be My Fiancé's Wife

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I sat in front of the mirror, my fingers grazing the lace of my wedding dress, tracing the delicate floral patterns stitched into the fabric.


Today was the day.


A slow breath filled my lungs, thick with the scent of peonies and roses from my bouquet resting nearby.


I was marrying Sam.


The love of my life.


The young man who had once handed me a single daisy in the middle of a summer rainstorm, grinning as if he had plucked the sun itself just for me. The man who had memorized my coffee down to the extra shot of vanilla before I even realized I had a regular order.


The person who, without fail, kissed my forehead every night, whether we were wrapped up in laughter or tangled in an argument.


I knew him. I knew his steady hands, his quiet strength, the way his eyes softened when they found mine in a crowded room. '


Sam was my safe place.


A tear pricked at the corner of my eye, and I laughed at myself, dabbing it away before it could fall.


"Careful," my maid of honor, Lauren, teased from the doorway, holding out a flute of champagne. "We spent way too long on your makeup for you to ruin it now."


I took the glass, shaking my head.


"I just..." My voice wavered. "I can't believe this is real."


"You're about to be a wife," Lauren smirked.


A wife.


The word sent a thrill through me. Because this wasn't just a wedding.


It was our wedding. Our beginning.


And in just thirty minutes, I'd be walking down the aisle, toward the man I had loved for what felt like a lifetime.


Everything was perfect. The flowers, the music, the quiet hum of our guests. I stood at the altar, heart pounding, my fingers curled around my bouquet as I locked eyes with Sam, my fiancé of five years.


We were seconds away from forever.


I had imagined this moment a thousand times, pictured his expression when I said I do, the way his voice would sound when he promised to love me for the rest of his life.


Then, the door creaked open.


The sound cut through the silence like a knife, and every head in the room turned.


A woman walked in.


Her heels clicked against the floor in slow, deliberate strides. She was stunning. She had long, dark hair cascading over one shoulder, lips painted in a sharp, bold red.


But it wasn't her beauty that sent a chill through me.


It was the way she looked at Sam.


My Sam.


"Aren't you going to tell them?" she asked, her voice smooth and confident.


My fingers stiffened around my bouquet.


"Tell us what?" I swallowed.


She didn't even glance at me. Her gaze stayed locked on Sam.


"That you're already married, Sam," she said.


The room inhaled all at once, gasps and murmurs rippling like waves in every direction. My breath caught in my throat. The flowers in my hands felt heavier, like I was sinking under their weight. My engagement ring felt like it was branding my skin.


I turned to Sam, waiting for him to laugh, to shake his head, to just do something... anything! Anything that would prove this was some kind of sick joke.


But he didn't.


Instead, he stepped forward.


My heart slammed against my ribs.


Whispers erupted around us. I felt my mother tense beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. My bridesmaids shifted, wide-eyed, their bouquets lowered.


I could hear my heart pounding, each beat deafening in the silence.


And then, right there, in the middle of our wedding, he walked toward her.


I think all the air left my lungs.


My fiancé's movements weren't hesitant. He wasn't rushing to correct her, wasn't denying it.


And then, God help me, he wrapped his arms around her.


A stunned silence fell over the room.


The world tilted. My hands trembled. I wanted to move, to say something, to scream, but I couldn't.


Sam's lips moved, whispered something into her ear. Something only she could hear.


She let out a soft laugh.


It felt like the ground had cracked beneath me, and I was free-falling into nothing.


When he finally turned back to me, his face was filled with something I couldn't quite place.


Regret?


Pain?


Betrayal?


"I..." He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Hazel, I need to explain this."


"You..." My voice cracked. "You're married?"


"No." His voice was careful, too careful. It was like he was calculating how many words he'd need to explain.


"Not exactly, Hazel," he continued.


The woman, this stranger who had just shattered my wedding, laughed lightly, shaking her head.


"Wow," she murmured. "That's one way to put it."


I turned to her, my voice shaking.


"Who are you?"


Her eyes flicked to mine for the first time, and something in them softened.


"My name is Anna," she said simply.


Anna.


The name rang in my ears, the pieces clicking together too slowly, too painfully.... (continue reading in the 1st comment)

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