After My Fiancée Left Me Thrice, I Married Another–She Begged Me Back!
“Eliza, would you come with me?”
The wedding hall fell into complete silence as I stood there, stunned, with the ring halfway onto Eliza Monroe’s finger.
Her long–lost love, Julian Hart, stood up yet again, shouting across the room at her.
“Eliza, I’m here to take you away. Will you come with me?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Eliza pulled her hand away from mine, lifted her dress, and walked gracefully toward Julian.
Tears glistened in her eyes, filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen before, as if Julian were the one she was meant to marry today. And there ! stood, the actual groom, under the glaring spotlight, reduced to nothing more than a clown in a suit.
With conviction, Eliza extended her hand to Julian, her voice ringing loud and clear for everyone to hear.
“Julian, I will!”
***1
It couldn’t be more evident. Eliza Monroe, the woman I loved, had been swept away by her long–lost love, Julian Hart.
But I didn’t feel angry. Instead, there was a strange sense of inevitability.
After all, this was the third time in a month that my wedding had been interrupted by Julian.
I let the ring fall from my hand, its imprint digging sharply into my palm. No one moved to stop them–not even Douglas and Vivian Monroe,
who sat unmoving at the head table.
I just stood there, watching their little drama unfold.
The first time Julian crashed our wedding, I was furious. I shouted at him with every ounce of rage I had. This my day. I had planned it meticulously, and I couldn’t let him ruin it.
was supposed to be Eliza’s and
Red–eyed, I rushed to tackle Julian, intent on stopping him from stealing the woman who’d promised to be my wife.
But our relatives blocked my path. Julian, standing protectively beside Eliza, smirked and said:
“See? He flies off the handle at the smallest thing. He’s bound to hurt you one day.”
“Be glad I’m testing this for you. Otherwise, think of how much you’d suffer in the future!”
In that moment, the crowd turned against me. Their whispers painted me not as the groom but as the villain. The voices surrounding me scolded me, saying it was just a test, and I had overreacted.
It ended with me handing out a few hefty checks, and Eliza reluctantly agreeing to marry me again.
The second time, I didn’t shout. I didn’t lose my temper. I fell to my knees, holding Eliza’s dress, pleading with her not to leave. I loved her, and I recounted every single reason why.
Julian pointed at me, disdainful.
“Pathetic. You think you can manipulate Eliza with this show of weakness? You’re just a coward. What do you bring to the table besides clinging to her?”
Once again, I was judged and condemned.
Everyone there was one of Eliza’s friends or relatives. I had no family–no one to stand by me. The verbal onslaught came from every side, and Eliza simply nestled into Julian’s embrace, a sweet smile on her lips.
Anger wasn’t enough. Begging wasn’t enough. Everything I did was wrong. So, I chose to do nothing.
I stood in silence, watching.
Julian’s voice cut through the room once more.
“See? Blake Carrington doesn’t even care enough to fight for your. How could you marry a man like that?”
“He’s failed all three tests. He’s not worth marrying.”
Anger failed. Pleading failed. Indifference failed.
What do you want me to do?
Eliza’s eyes flicked back to me, and she threw the bouquet at my chest.
“Blake! What are you doing just standing there? I’m being taken from you!”
“You don’t care at all, do you? You never loved me!”
Her expression was a mixture of rage and frustration.
But I merely brushed off the flowers clinging to my suit, straightened my tie, and walked toward the emcee, taking the microphone from him.
“Eliza, go. This wedding is over.”
