Beg Me in the Mud

When the wedding limousine pulled up to the venue, Jack didn't get out right away. He rolled down the window halfway, looking at me through the falling white rose petals.

His gaze was entirely too calm. "Mallory is back." The bridesmaids' laughter died instantly. I stood frozen on the steps, clutching the bouquet he had personally arranged for me.

He flicked the ash from his cigarette. "She called me in the middle of the night. Said she couldn't survive over there anymore." "When I arrived at her place, she was on the floor.

Half a bottle of sleeping pills next to her, three deep cuts on her wrists, blood everywhere." A sudden, violent chill swept through me, starting from my toes and seizing my chest.

Mallory was his first love. Five years ago, she had supposedly gone abroad for terminal cancer treatment, vanishing without a trace.

Only thirty minutes ago, he had sent me a voice note: "Fiona, my hands are shaking. I'm so nervous.

I can't believe I finally get to marry you today." Jack flicked his cigarette again, ignoring the gray ash smudging his custom tuxedo. "She was clutching the matching rings we bought back in college." "Fiona, if I go through with this wedding today, she won't survive." He pulled out the diamond ring—the one I had waited seven years for—extended his hand out of the window, and simply let go.

The ring dropped into a muddy puddle at the bottom of the steps, splashing dirty water over the pavement. "Consider it my debt to you." "Fiona, I'm sorry.

We have to call off the wedding." "She needs me." ... After the limousine drove away, I knelt down, my heavy silk train soaking up the muddy water, clinging to my knees.

I reached blindly into the puddle for the ring. Hearing a car door click open behind me, I assumed one of my bridesmaids had come down to help. I didn't look up.

But then a shadow fell over me. Jack was standing there, holding a black umbrella, shielding the woman beside him from the wind. He hadn't actually left.

The door to the luxury van at the back of the caravan was still wide open, showing a glimpse of blankets, an IV drip, and a firstaid kit.

Mallory had been in the procession the entire time. He had brought her to my wedding. He frowned, looking down at me on my hands and knees in the mud. "Fiona, don't.

It's dirty." I looked up. He tilted the umbrella back slightly to cover Mallory, who stood there wrapped in his suit jacket, thick white gauze wrapped around her wrist.

She spoke in a weak, fragile voice. "Jack... maybe you should go inside with Fiona.

It's your wedding day, after all." Jack looked down, his voice softening into a gentle murmur. "Don't think about that.

I told you, I'm never leaving you alone again." My fingers finally closed around the ring that was supposed to go on my left ring finger.

I held it tightly and let out a quiet, hollow laugh. We had been together for seven years. Back when he had nothing, he saved up for three months just to buy me a cheap silver band.

His ears had turned bright red when he slipped it onto my finger. "Fiona, one day, I'll buy you a better one," he had promised. He did buy a better one.

But he let someone else wear it first, and then he threw it into the mud. My mother, her face completely pale, came rushing out of the hotel lobby. "Jack!

What on earth are you doing? All our friends and family are waiting inside! How can you just call it off like this?" Jack lowered the umbrella, his voice incredibly steady. "Mrs.

Sommers, I am deeply sorry. I will cover all the wedding expenses in full.

Fiona can keep the house in Bellevue and the financial settlement." My mother’s eyes filled with tears. "Is that what you think this is about?

Fiona waited seven years for you!" Suddenly, Mallory whimpered, swaying on her feet as she clutched her bandaged wrist, which was beginning to show a faint spot of red.

Jack immediately caught her, his voice instantly turning sharp and defensive. "Mrs. Sommers, Mallory literally just returned from the brink of death last night.

She cannot handle any stress right now." My mother gasped, silenced by his sheer coldness.

I squeezed the ring in my hand until the metal bit into my palm. "Jack, she can't handle stress? But I can?

Standing here like this?" He was silent for a moment before looking at me. "Fiona, you’ve always been the sensible one." "Sensible." I had heard that word from him from the age of twenty to twentyseven.

When his startup was struggling, I ate instant noodles with him. When he lost his funding, I gave him my wedding dress savings to keep his business afloat.

I spent our anniversaries alone so he could work. It turned out that being "sensible" was just his license to hurt me without feeling guilty.

Mallory tugged weakly at his sleeve. "Jack, don't fight with Fiona because of me. I can leave.

I'll be fine on my own." She made a motion to slip off his jacket, exposing the faint red marks on her wrist, but Jack quickly held her hands down. "Where would you go?

You just got discharged.

You don't even have a place to stay." Mallory looked down, whispering, "But Fiona is your fiancée." Jack glanced at me. "She'll understand." A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest.

The hotel manager jogged out, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Mr. Grayson, the guests are waiting inside.

Should we begin dismissing them?" Jack nodded. "Put everything on my card." He paused, then added, "Keep Fiona's dressing room open for her so she can change out of her dress." Even in the middle of ruining my life, he still remembered to be polite enough to let me take off my ruined gown.

I stood my ground, wiped the mud off the ring, and held it out to him. "You say the wedding is off. What about us? Our relationship?" He stared at the ring but didn't reach for it.

Beside him, Mallory murmured, "Fiona, Jack is just overwhelmed right now. Please don't force him." Jack didn't correct her.

He wrapped his arm around Mallory's shoulders, pulling her close. "Let's go. Your nerves are shot today." Those words weren't meant for me.

Muddy water slowly dripped from between my fingers. I pulled my hand back and walked into the hotel.

Behind me, I could hear Mallory’s quiet sobs and Jack’s gentle murmurs: "Don't worry. I'm here." My train dragged along the carpeted stairs, leaving a long gray streak.

The wedding dress I had tried on a dozen times was completely ruined. I sat in front of the vanity mirror, my hands shaking so hard I couldn't unpin my veil.

I pulled at it, but the lace only tangled further in my hair.

My bridesmaid, Bridget, pushed the door open, tears streaming down her face as she looked at me. "Fiona, I'm going to go out there and rip him apart." I caught her wrist. "Don't." Bridget was furious. "He left with her!

Your mother is sitting out there, nearly faint with rage, and you're still trying to save his dignity?" I sat pale and silent. Heavy footsteps echoed outside.

For a fleeting second, I thought it might be Jack. Instead, the door swung open to reveal Mallory.

Her eyes were red, but she had already changed into a cozy knit dress with fresh bandages wrapped around her wrist, carrying a designer shopping bag. "Fiona, Jack wanted me to bring this to you." She placed the bag at my feet and pulled out a credit card. "Jack said you can pick up the keys to the lake house from the property manager whenever you want.

And this card has five million dollars on it. The PIN is your birthday." "Fiona, please take the money. Jack said you went through a lot of hardships with him in the early days.

He wants you to have this so he can have some peace of mind. I'm so sorry." Bridget lunged forward, pushing her back. "Are you insane?

You steal her fiancé and then come in here acting like a martyr?" Mallory stumbled back, her shoulder hitting the doorframe, her face draining of color.

Right at that moment, Jack appeared in the doorway.

His gaze immediately locked onto Mallory before shifting to Bridget. "Have you lost your mind?" Bridget let out a harsh laugh. "You're asking us?

Who ruined the wedding today?" "This is between Fiona and me," Jack said coldly. Mallory tugged at his sleeve. "Jack, don't blame them. I shouldn't have come.

I just wanted to deliver these things to Fiona myself." He looked down at her wrist, noticing a tiny speck of red bleeding through the clean gauze. "Your wound is opening up again." Mallory shook her head. "It's fine.

It doesn't hurt." The sheer theatricality of it was almost comical. Jack stepped toward me, keeping his voice low. "Fiona, take the card.

Your mother's health isn't great, and she needs the financial security. Don't let pride make you do something stupid." "Jack, is that what you think I'm doing?

Holding out for more money?" He frowned. "Stop making a scene." "Then what should I say? Should I congratulate you on your beautiful reunion?" He had no answer for that.

Mallory spoke up, her voice trembling. "Fiona, I know you feel wronged. But I didn't leave him because I wanted to. I was alone in a foreign hospital for five years with no family.

Jack was the only thought that kept me alive." She raised her arm, showing the bandage. "You had him for seven years.

I only wanted to see him one last time." I stared at her, momentarily speechless.

Jack reached out, gently holding her wrist to support it, a gesture so practiced and familiar it made my chest ache.

I remembered the night before the wedding, when he had wiped away my tears in that exact same way.

I had asked him if he was nervous, and he had kissed my forehead, whispering that his only fear was me changing my mind.

Now I realized he wasn't afraid of me backing out—he was terrified Mallory wouldn't let him back in.

Bridget was practically shaking with rage, but I placed a hand on her arm to quiet her. "Mallory, you think I 'had' him for seven years?" I stood up, dragging my heavy gown across the floor until I was standing right in front of her. "Do you have any idea what those seven years looked like?

When he had a high fever, I was the one who stayed awake all night. When his company was drowning in debt, I was the one working overtime to pay it off.

The first time he landed a major client, he drank until his stomach bled, and I carried him on my back to the emergency room at three in the morning." Mallory’s face went white.

Jack immediately stepped between us. "That's enough, Fiona. I remember everything you did.

That's why I'm making sure you're taken care of." "Taken care of." That was what my seven years were worth to him. "Mallory was on the brink of death last night," he insisted. "She has absolutely nothing left.

Don't push her." I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my skin. "And what about me?" Jack fell silent for a few seconds. "You're stronger than she is." On the vanity, a corner of our customized wedding monogram sign peeled off, blocking my reflection in the mirror.

I ripped the cardstock sign down, crumpled it into a tight ball, and shoved it into his hand. "Take it," I whispered. "Since she has nothing, you might as well give her this too." My mother collapsed as the remaining guests were being ushered out of the venue.

Relatives crowded around us, whispering and casting sidelong glances at my muddy wedding dress.

My aunt lowered her voice, but her words still carried clearly: "The wedding is called off, and his family didn't even show up.

How is Fiona ever going to show her face again?" Another relative sighed. "Jackary is a multimillionaire now. Men always have a soft spot for their first love.

Fiona is just too stubborn. If she just humbled herself a little, she’d still be the one wearing the ring.

Now she's left with nothing." I held my unconscious mother close, my fingers freezing. The ambulance arrived soon after.

My mother spent the night under observation in the ICU before her blood pressure finally stabilized. The next day, she was transferred to a regular ward.

The doctor pulled me aside. "Your mother's heart is very weak. She cannot handle any sudden shocks or stress." I held her frail hand, nodding repeatedly.

A little while later, Jack showed up, but I blocked him at the door.

He placed a thermos of soup on the floor, keeping his voice low. "I didn't handle things well yesterday." I stared at him, cold and silent.

He sighed. "But Mallory's situation is unique. She almost died last night. She really can't take any more pressure." From the bed inside, my mother heard his voice.

She struggled to sit up, her chest heaving. "She can't take pressure?

What about my daughter?" I rushed back to hold her gently by the shoulders, then turned to glare at the man in the doorway. "Get out." Jack stood there for a long moment before finally turning to leave.

But Mallory just had to choose that exact afternoon to show up. It was on the third afternoon.

I had stepped out to the nurse's station to pick up some test results—a quick tenminute errand. When I returned, the door to the room was cracked open.

Mallory's soft voice drifted out. "Mrs. Sommers, please don't be angry with Jack. It's my fault. I never should have come back to disrupt their lives." My mother didn't answer.

Mallory sniffled, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I spent five years abroad, thinking about him every single day. But I knew he had Fiona. I didn't dare come back.

It was only when I couldn't hold on anymore that I finally reached out." She paused, her voice dropping to a loud whisper. "Actually, that night, I only wanted to catch one last glimpse of him from afar and then disappear.

But when he arrived, I saw his keychain. It was a photo of Fiona. I knew then that his heart belonged to her. Mrs.

Sommers, do you know how that felt?" She let out a fragile, bitter laugh. "I felt like those five years of suffering were for nothing.

The only hope keeping me alive had already become someone else's. That's why I did something so foolish." I threw the door open.

Mallory looked up instantly, tears pooling in her eyes. "Fiona, I was just trying to apologize to your mother..." My mother's face had turned an alarming shade of gray.

I pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Get out. Now." Mallory stood up but didn't leave immediately.

She looked down at the bed, her voice a soft, venomous whisper. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Sommers. Jack is just too softhearted. Please don't blame Fiona for not being able to keep him.

Any man would feel his heart break if his dying first love begged him in tears, wouldn't he?" She raised her bandaged wrist, turning it toward the bed. "Look, Mrs. Sommers.

I literally put my life on the line. Fiona only waited seven years.

I loved him with my life." My mother's breathing turned ragged, and the heart monitor beside her began to beep frantically.

I rushed to her side, gripping her hand as I used my free arm to violently shove Mallory away. "Get the hell out!" Mallory stumbled back, colliding hard with the doorframe, instantly clutching her wrist with a cry of pain.

The door swung open from the outside. Jack walked in, catching Mallory just as she began to collapse backward.

He saw the monitor flashing red and me pushing Mallory against the frame, and his face instantly darkened. "Fiona Sommers!" The alarm kept blaring.

My mother gasped for air, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. I shook off Jack's hand as he tried to grab my arm, and slammed my hand onto the emergency call button.

Jack held Mallory close, glaring at me. "Fiona, Mallory came here out of the goodness of her heart to apologize.

Was that really necessary?" I didn't even have the energy to argue with him. Fortunately, the nurses rushed in, and they managed to stabilize my mother's condition.

But from that day on, she was a shadow of her former self.

She refused to eat, refused to speak, and would only grip my hand tightly, repeating the same words over and over: "Fiona, sweetie... don't marry him." I looked into her tired eyes and held her hand to my cheek. "I won't, Mom.

I promise. I won't marry him."