In the End, I Married Another Man

1 At City Hall, the clerk pushed our papers back. Harrison was still married. His jaw tightened as he coaxed me to wait one more month to finalize things with Jane. I believed him.

Instead, I watched him live her life online. He took her whitewater rafting and skiing in Aspen while ignoring my requests.

I waited months for a Santorini reservation, only to see him take her, kneeling at the altar and tying a blessing cord on her wrist. He threw her the wedding we never had.

The roses, the chiffon drapes, the entrance song—all were my choices, stolen for her day. In the video, Jane wore the gown I’d tailored, glowing under the lights I designed.

I asked if he ever loved me. He stayed silent, then kissed her forehead. "I hate you," he said. Finally, I understood. Hatred is just unfinished love. And I was done waiting.

I closed out of the wedding video Jane had texted me and caught a cab straight to the hotel. The hallway was littered with champagne roses.

Half of a dismantled white chiffon arch leaned against the wall. Even the broken string lights scattered across the carpet were the exact ones I had bought for my own wedding.

The hotel banquet manager walked up to me holding a clipboard. "Miss Phoebe, I just need your signature on the final vendor clearance." I froze for a second before taking the clipboard.

Right there on the dotted line, printed in bold black ink, was Harrison's name. It hit me all at once. He did not just steal my entire wedding concept and give it to Jane.

He had actually put me down as the point of contact to clean up their mess.

I signed my name, turned around, and pushed open the heavy double doors to the bridal suite at the end of the hall. The moment the door opened, my feet rooted to the floor.

Jane was still wearing my custom gown. She was sitting squarely on Harrison's lap, leaning her flushed, seemingly drunken face against his cheek.

Her lipstick was smeared right at the corner of his mouth. Harrison was a massive germaphobe.

Normally, if I tried to kiss him right after dinner, he would frown, push me away, and tell me to go brush my teeth first. But right now, he was not pushing Jane away at all.

Instead, his hands were resting firmly on her waist, holding her steady so she would not slip. Jane turned her head and noticed me standing there.

She bit her lip and shrank back into Harrison's chest. "I am so sorry, Phoebe. I had a little too much champagne and lost my balance.

Harrison was just catching me." His first instinct was not to let her go. It was to tighten his grip and pull her closer, shielding her against his body.

I stared at the expensive silk of my wedding dress, now wrinkled and stained. "Why are you wearing my dress?" Harrison looked up at me.

His tone was perfectly flat. "Jane never got to wear a wedding dress when we got married.

It has always been a heavy regret for her." "You can just buy a better one later." Jane's eyes welled up with tears that immediately spilled over her lashes. "Phoebe, please do not be mad at him.

I will take it off right now and give it back to you." She reached behind her back, pretending to struggle with the zipper.

Harrison immediately caught her hand. "Do not take it off.

The AC is blasting in here, you will catch a cold." He personally adjusted the shoulder strap that had slipped down her arm, then picked up his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Watching how incredibly gentle he was with her brought back a bitter memory. When I went for my first fitting in that exact dress, the zipper caught the skin on my back.

The pain was so sharp I broke out in a cold sweat. I called out for Harrison to come into the fitting room and help me.

He stood completely still on the other side of the velvet curtain. His voice was freezing cold. "It is not appropriate for me to go in there.

Just call a sales associate." It was not about being appropriate. It was just because the woman inside the curtain was me. I did not say another word.

I walked straight past them toward the vanity mirror and reached for the velvet ring box sitting on the glass.

The second my fingers grazed the box, Jane lunged forward and slammed her hand over it. "I wore this ring tonight. Can I just keep it until tomorrow?

I promise I will return it then." I gripped the box and yanked it hard. Harrison immediately clamped his hand around my wrist. His grip was terrifyingly strong.

My bones ground together in pain. "It is just a piece of jewelry. Stop backing her into a corner." All the color drained from my face.

Cold sweat rolled down my temples from the pain. He did not even look at me.

He just leaned down and asked Jane in a soft whisper. "Did that scare you?" Jane shook her head, her fingers gripping the lapel of his shirt like a lifeline.

Harrison finally turned his head to look at me, his brows pulled together in deep annoyance. "Just go home." "Tomorrow morning, I am taking Jane to the lawyer's office to finalize the asset division." "Once the paperwork is signed, we are completely finished.

I will make this right with you then." I ripped my wrist out of his grip. I left the ring, turned my back on them, and walked out of the hotel.

The second I got into a taxi, my phone lit up. Jane had used Harrison's phone to text me a photo.

In the picture, she was wearing my wedding ring, and her hand was completely engulfed in Harrison's palm. The next morning, Harrison called me.

He told me to bring my birth certificate and ID to his lawyer's office.

He wanted me to personally witness him and Jane signing the final asset division. "I want you there so you stop overthinking and realize I have absolutely nothing left to do with her." I packed my documents in my bag and pushed open the glass door to the conference room right on time.

Jane was wearing Harrison's jacket again. Her bare feet were resting right next to his knee. Harrison was leaning over, carefully applying a bandage to a tiny scratch on her ankle.

His touch was incredibly light. I remembered the time I wore new heels and the blisters bled so badly I could barely walk. He did not even step out of the driver's seat.

He just rolled down the window and stared at me. "There are spare flats in the backseat.

Put them on yourself." But now, he was holding Jane's foot like she was made of antique glass that would shatter if he breathed too hard.

Hearing the door open, Jane made a fake attempt to pull her leg back. Harrison caught her ankle to keep her still. "Stop moving.

If the cut reopens, you are going to cry about the pain again." He smoothed the edges of the bandage before finally looking up at me.

He pointed to the empty leather chair across the table. The lawyer slid two thick stacks of paper into the center of the table. I thought it was the final divorce decree.

But when I read the bold font at the top of the page, a loud ringing started in my ears. "Deferred Asset Division Agreement." I pointed at the thick stack of paper and looked right at Harrison. "What the hell is this?" Harrison leaned back in his chair, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for argument. "Jane is in a very fragile state right now." "The art gallery, the lakehouse, and the offshore trust fund will remain exactly as they are." "Once her mental health stabilizes, we will deal with the paperwork." I stared at him. "Yesterday you told me you were cutting ties completely today.

How exactly is keeping joint assets cutting ties?" His expression darkened instantly. "Property is property.

Feelings are feelings." "Stop twisting every single thing into some kind of romantic conspiracy." Jane looked at me with bloodshot eyes, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. "Phoebe, I am not trying to compete with you." "I am just so terrified that once I sign my name, every single memory I have left of him will be erased." Harrison pulled a tissue from the box and reached out to wipe the tears from her face.

The warm pad of his thumb gently traced the corner of her eye. Watching them, my throat closed up tight.

Whenever I cried and fought with him, begging him to show he cared, he never once comforted me.

He would just slide the entire box of tissues across the table. "We will talk when you stop being hysterical." The lawyer pulled out a single sheet of paper and slid it in front of me. "Miss Phoebe, this is a declaration confirming you consent to Mr.

Harrison and his exwife maintaining joint assets.

Please sign at the bottom." Harrison looked at me, lowering his voice into a warning. "The more gracious you are about this, the easier it will be for her to let go of the past." "Phoebe, you have always been the mature one.

Do not throw a tantrum right now." I picked up the heavy metal pen and dragged a thick, black line straight through the signature box.

I dropped the pen onto the mahogany table. "I refuse." Seeing the blackedout signature, Jane let out a weak gasp and slumped directly into Harrison's chest. "I shouldn't even be alive.

I am just a burden to everyone around me." Harrison immediately wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back to calm her down. He looked up at me.

His eyes were like absolute ice. "Phoebe, are you really not going to stop until you completely humiliate everyone in this room?" I did not give him an answer.

I turned around and walked out of the conference room. The second I stepped into the hallway, my phone started ringing.

It was the city hospital. "Miss Phoebe, your mother's cardiac surgery has been moved up. We have to operate this afternoon." "It is a highly critical procedure.

We need a family member here immediately to sign the consent forms!" I rushed to the hospital as fast as humanly possible.

The charge nurse shoved a massive stack of liability waivers into my hands. "Sign these quickly, the surgical team is waiting." Looking at the dense paragraphs listing every possible fatal complication, my hands shook so violently I could barely hold the pen.

Harrison had promised me he would be right by my side today.

He had officially met my mother as my fiancé and swore to her that he would be there to hold my hand while she went under anesthesia. I pulled out my phone and called him.

The first call rang out completely. The second call was sent straight to voicemail. On the third try, the line finally connected.

But the only sound coming through the speaker was Jane's hoarse, breathless sobbing. "You cannot throw this picture frame away!

It is from the first time we went to the beach together!" I took a deep, trembling breath and asked him. "Where are you?" Harrison sounded completely exhausted. "Jane said she needed to grab a few things from the lakehouse.

Looking at all her old stuff completely broke her down." "I cannot just abandon her here while she is like this." I kept my voice dead level. "My mother is about to be wheeled into openheart surgery.

You promised you would be here." The line went dead silent for two seconds.

Then, he spoke with absolute, chilling entitlement. "Your mother is surrounded by top surgeons, and she has you." "Jane only has me right now.

She cannot be left alone." Listening to his voice, I closed my eyes. I remembered the very first time I brought him home for dinner.

My parents spent the entire afternoon cooking a massive feast of his favorite foods. Halfway through the meal, Jane texted him. [I found my old wedding ring.

I am having a panic attack.] Harrison dropped his fork, muttered an excuse about a corporate emergency, and walked out the front door without looking back.

He left me sitting alone at the dining table, staring at my confused parents and the cold food. Now, the woman lying on a stretcher waiting to have her chest cut open was my mother.

And he still chose Jane without a second of hesitation. "Do whatever you want." I hung up the phone, gripped the pen, and signed my name on every single liability waiver.

After they wheeled my mother through the double doors, I sat entirely alone on the freezing plastic bench in the waiting room. My phone screen lit up.

I was scrolling through Instagram and saw Jane's latest story. She had set it so only I could see it.

In the photo, Harrison's dress shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he was carefully adjusting a massive wedding portrait of the two of them on the wall.

Jane was barefoot, wearing his oversized slides. His jacket was draped over her shoulders again.

The caption read: [He said he would cut ties, but his hands always catch me first.] Staring at that picture, I thought about the very first day I moved into his apartment.

I brought out the only framed photo we had together and tried to put it on his nightstand.

He took the frame and placed it face down in a drawer. "Do not leave pictures out in the bedroom.

Visual clutter ruins my sleep." At ten thirty that night, Harrison finally walked into the surgical waiting room. "Your mom made it out fine, didn't she?" "Stop acting like the sky is falling every time something happens.

You are just stressing yourself out for nothing." I looked up at him. "You knew the mortality rate for this surgery was incredibly high. You knew she might never wake up.

And you still chose to go hang a picture frame with her?" His brow furrowed into a tight knot. "Jane is in a very dark place mentally.

The doctor said she cannot handle any emotional triggers." "Can you just be a little understanding for once?

Stop treating everything like a competition with her." Right on cue, his phone vibrated. It was a voice note from Jane. "Harrison, I am too scared to sleep in the lakehouse alone.

Please come back." Harrison stood up from the bench almost instinctively.

I reached out and grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "If you walk out of this hospital tonight, you and I are completely finished." He looked down at my knuckles gripping his sleeve.

He did not look panicked. He did not even stop moving.

He just gave me a look of pure, unadulterated exhaustion. "Stop using breakups as a threat." "Phoebe, you have always been the rational one.

Do not start throwing cheap, dramatic tantrums like she does.

It is not a good look on you." He ripped his sleeve out of my grip and walked out of the corridor with long, confident strides.

I watched his back completely disappear around the corner. Then I raised my left hand and pulled the diamond engagement ring off my finger.

I picked up my phone and called the county clerk's office. "Hello.

I need to secure the absolute first appointment for a marriage license tomorrow morning." The next morning, Harrison did not come home.

Around seven, he sent a text. [Jane finally fell asleep after taking her medication. I will take you out to dinner tonight.] I read the message and put the phone in my pocket.

At ten o'clock, another message came through. [I know I lost my temper last night, but I was just trying to keep her calm.

Stop forcing me to choose.] I stared at the screen and let out a dry laugh. I was never the one forcing him to choose.

It was just a simple fact that the moment Jane appeared, his gravity shifted entirely to her. And then he would turn around and demand that I be the understanding one.

The mature one. At noon, Harrison walked into the hospital room. "Your mom's vitals are stable now, right?" He pulled up a chair and sat down. "I wasn't out partying last night.

Jane kept screaming my name in her sleep.

I was terrified she was going to hurt herself if I left her alone in that big house." I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. "Because she screamed your name, it was perfectly fine to leave my mother bleeding on an operating table?" Harrison fired back instantly. "Your mom had a team of surgeons looking after her, and she had you." "Jane had absolutely no one but me." The words landed on me with the weight of a feather.

I was too drained to even feel angry anymore. I just felt a deep, freezing finality. Seeing my silence, Harrison assumed I was doing exactly what I always did.

Swallowing my feelings and backing down.

His voice softened, and he reached out to grab my hand. "Alright, enough fighting." "As soon as your mom is discharged, we are going straight to City Hall to get legally married." I pulled my hand away before he could touch me. "You told me you were in no rush.

Why the sudden desperation to get the paperwork signed?" He pulled his hand back, his tone filled with absolute certainty. "Because once we are officially married, Jane will see that I have my own family.

It will finally force her to give up." A sudden laugh escaped my throat. It was so pathetic I could feel tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

He was not rushing to marry me because he loved me.

He was only doing it because Jane was suffocating him, and he needed a human shield to block her. "So I am just a tool you are using to make her back off?" The color drained from his face. "What kind of crazy logic is that?

That is not what I meant." "You are the woman I want to marry. Jane is just my past.

The only thing I feel for her is a lingering sense of responsibility." Before he could finish his sentence, his phone started ringing in his pocket. It was Jane.

He glanced at the screen and hit decline. The phone immediately started ringing again. On the third ring, he caved.

Jane's hysterical, earpiercing sobs echoed through the speaker. "Harrison!

The maid threw away the porcelain bowl I bought for the cat!" "If you let them throw away the bowl, you are just throwing me away too!" Harrison shot up from the chair.

The annoyance he had directed at me just seconds ago completely vanished, replaced by sheer panic. "Baby, please stop crying.

Do not dig through the trash, you are going to cut your hands. I am on my way." He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.

I leaned against the wall and calmly reminded him. "You said you were having dinner with me tonight." He paused for a fraction of a second, his back still turned to me. "She is in a crisis." "Can you please stop keeping score over every little thing?" He pushed the door open and practically ran down the hall.

This time, I did not stay in the room waiting for him to come back. At two in the afternoon, I took my documents and walked into City Hall.

I filled out the registry, signed the documents, and stood before the clerk.

When the heavy ink stamp slammed down on the paper, I took my crisp, brand new marriage certificate and slid it into my purse.

At six in the evening, Harrison finally remembered I existed. He called me. "I handled the situation.

Pack your things." "Tomorrow at nine AM, I am taking you to City Hall to get the license." I looked out the window at the setting sun and gave him a threeword answer. "No need anymore." The line went dead silent.

His voice dropped an octave, laced with warning. "What does that mean? Phoebe, are you seriously throwing another tantrum?" I did not offer him a single syllable of explanation.

I hung up the phone and blocked his number. At eight that night, Harrison pushed open the door to his apartment. Half of the shoe rack in the entryway was completely empty.

My clothes, my books, my skincare bottles. Every trace of me was gone. The panic finally hit him. He started aggressively calling my phone.

Over a dozen calls, all sent straight to voicemail. He opened his social media app, ready to send me a furious message. Instead, he saw the post I had uploaded that afternoon.

It was a photo of two marriage certificates sitting side by side.

The caption was just one sentence. [Starting today, everything is brand new.] Harrison stared blindly at the screen.

The unsigned divorce decree slipped out of his fingers and hit the floor.