Canceled Weddings. I'm Done Being Your Perfect Bride

For our eighteenth wedding attempt, Julian yanked his hand away on the spot. All because I took one second too long to slide the ring onto his finger.

The disappointment in his eyes cut like broken glass. "You know I'm a perfectionist, Ellie.

Why can't you ever hit your cue on the first try?" "If you're going to miss your mark again next time, maybe Serena should just marry me instead." My best friend, Serena, was a selfproclaimed queen of punctuality.

Julian always used her as the gold standard to judge me. On a stormy, torrential night, I was only thirty seconds late getting downstairs.

He drove off with Serena, leaving me standing in the rain. On Valentine's Day, I was half a step behind Serena entering the restaurant.

He gave her the candlelight dinner that was meant for me.

For our custom anniversary ring, because I waited ten seconds longer at a red light, he casually slipped it onto Serena's finger.

He even canceled our wedding seventeen times, making Serena stand in as my double to try on the wedding ring seventeen times "for practice." To make sure the eighteenth time would be a success, I practiced the timing countless times.

But ten seconds before the vows, Serena, who was in charge of handing over the rings, suddenly let her hand "slip." She opened the box a second late. Julian didn't blame her at all.

He just took off the ring and called off the wedding. Again. It turned out my timing was never the problem. The problem was that the bride wasn't her.

Since he wanted a perfect wedding so badly, I decided to give him exactly what he wanted. Julian grabbed Serena's hand. "Watch closely.

We'll demonstrate it for you one more time." I smiled and slid the rings onto both of their fingers myself. "No need for a demonstration." "This time, you two finally hit the perfect cue." A dead silence fell over the hall.

The guests stared at me, seemingly unable to process what they had just witnessed.

Julian looked down at the ring on his finger, then looked up at me. "Who gave you permission to change the script?" He glanced at me coldly, annoyed by my sudden improvisation. "That line." "Delete it." I froze for a second.

It was hilarious. Even now, he thought I was still playing along with his perfect wedding game. My thoughts, my choices. He felt he could rewrite them whenever he wanted.

And it wasn't just this line. He had deleted my favorite tulips, replacing them with the white roses Serena liked.

He had removed my childhood best friend from the bridal party, making Serena my maid of honor.

Even the wedding dress we had picked out months ago was replaced by the design Serena had her eye on.

Whenever I showed any dissatisfaction, he would always say Serena's taste fit the wedding theme "more perfectly." His socalled perfection was built entirely on discarding everything I loved.

Yet this time, he threw his precious perfection out the window just to accommodate Serena's mistake.

Seeing me frozen in place, Serena stepped in with a sweet smile to smooth things over. "Don't be so rigid, Julian.

Ellie had good intentions." "Besides, I think Ellie did great." "Look, she finally hit the cue, didn't she?

Slipping the ring on my finger at the exact last second." I wanted to tell her not to bother. Once Julian made up his mind, he never looked back.

But in the next second, Julian crumpled under her gaze. He sighed helplessly. "Fine. At least she showed some awareness this time." My fingers curled slightly into my palms.

A sharp, tiny sting pricked my heart. It turned out he was capable of compromising. He just never compromised with me.

During our worst fight, I had insisted on wearing my late mother's heirloom necklace for the ceremony. I wanted my parents, watching from heaven, to see me find my happiness.

But no matter how much I begged, cried, or argued, Julian refused to budge.

Even when I pretended to agree and tried to slip it on right before walking down the aisle, he chose to cancel the wedding five times just to force me to submit to his rules.

But now, the iron gates I could never open swung wide open at a single word from Serena.

While I was lost in thought, Julian was already holding Serena, executing a perfectly timed, angled stagekiss. The crowd erupted into cheers.

Some of his friends laughed and teased. "Come on, Julian! We all know how much you love Serena.

You don't have to throw a fake wedding every few months just to show off." "We've seen this 'swapped bride' drama enough times. We're bored.

Change the script next time!" Julian didn't answer, but a clear smile danced in his eyes. He silently allowed this chaotic deviation from the schedule.

And he silently allowed me to remain the clown who had been replaced eighteen times in this play. I looked around.

Every guest in the room belonged to Julian's or Serena's social circle.

My own friends and family had been completely exhausted and embarrassed by the seventeen previous cancellations. None of them showed up today.

No wonder no one here recognized me as the actual bride. But Julian didn't know that even the most dedicated clown gets tired.

I wanted to take off the heavy costume and step down from his perfect stage forever.

Back in the dressing room, I stripped off the heavy gown. The moment I changed into a simple hoodie and sweatpants, the suffocating weight lifted off my chest.

As I was packing my things, Julian and Serena walked in.

He looked at me, falling back into his usual lecturing tone. "You walked off the stage five minutes too early, and you missed your cue during the vows.

That's a fivepoint deduction for this wedding performance." "Remember this lesson. Practice by yourself for another five months before the next wedding.

Stop dragging us down to pay for your mistakes." Julian loved using a point system to measure the perfection of our relationship.

A onepoint deduction meant I had to practice for another month. Five months after five months. Over eighteen weddings, I had waited for him for seven whole years.

A marriage that hadn't happened in seven years wasn't going to magically work in the eighth. I didn't have many sevenyear cycles left to waste. I was done waiting.

Since I remained silent, he took it as my usual submission. Serena, however, asked curiously, "How did she get a deduction?

I thought you used a reward system, Julian?" "What's Ellie's score right now?" My throat felt incredibly dry. "Negative five.

What about yours?" "Oh, I have over six thousand points!" I froze entirely. Thinking I didn't believe her, Serena eagerly unlocked her phone to show me her Instagram.

Her feed was flooded with photos of her and Julian. Every caption detailed her mounting points. Baked a perfect batch of chocolate chip cookies: +10 points.

Left work exactly on the second: +20 points. Getting a ride home in Julian's passenger seat and staying completely dry: +50 points.

At the very top was a post from three minutes ago: Perfectly cleaned up Ellie's wedding mess: +100 points! The account posting it was a handle I didn't recognize.

But I instantly recognized the profile picture. It was the luxury watch I had gifted Julian for our anniversary.

When I first found out Julian had added Serena on another account, I thought it was just a burner account he rarely used, a sign of him keeping his distance.

But now I realized the account on my friend list, the one that never posted anything, was the actual burner. I stared at those glaring numbers.

My eyes stung so badly I couldn't look up. Seven years of struggling and suffocating just to end up with negative points. It was a complete joke.

Serena seemed to realize she had crossed a line. She playfully punched Julian's arm. "It's all your fault! Ellie is your fiancée.

How can she only have negative five points!" They began to bicker playfully over the scoring system. I quietly pulled out my phone and sent a message to my client. "Mr.

Carter, is that offer for the overseas branch still open?" The reply came almost instantly. "Of course! My flight leaves the day after tomorrow.

Want to join me?" I looked up and met Julian's deep gaze. My heart skipped a beat.

But he just scoffed, looking annoyed. "Fine, I'll give you five points back so Serena stops calling me too strict." "But if you wear that dress again next time, it's a twopoint deduction." "You've worn it so many times.

It's old and dusty. Throw it away." His gaze fell on a corner of the wedding dress peeking out of my suitcase. My hand tightened on my phone.

I pressed send. "See you the day after tomorrow." Then, I pulled the wedding dress completely out of the suitcase.

Along with all the jewelry and clothes he had bought for his "perfect wedding," I threw it straight into the trash can. "You're right.

Old things should be thrown away." Julian stared at the trash pile, a flash of hesitation crossing his face. Before he could speak, the clock in the dressing room chimed.

I cut him off. "It's time for the reception speech. If you linger, you'll miss your cue." Meeting Serena's eager eyes, Julian turned and led her out.

Before closing the door, he paused. "For actively keeping track of the schedule, I'll give you three points. Just prepare for another week." "Don't worry.

The next wedding will definitely be a success." My hands didn't stop packing. My heart didn't flutter. He didn't know that in a week, there wouldn't be a wedding.

I didn't want his belated exceptions anymore.

When I got home, I booked my flight and packed only my essentials. Then, I went through the house and took down all thirtysix clocks he had installed to keep time.

One by one, I took out their batteries. Along with them, I threw out all the restrictive outfits and accessories he had mandated.

I would never need those torture devices designed to make me his "perfect girlfriend" again. Zipping up my suitcase, I let out a long breath.

Just as I was about to call Julian to end things, my phone rang. "Hi, is this Julian Sterling? I've got your DoorDash order with the hangover cure here at Building 3, Apartment 501.

The security guard won't let me up. Can you come down?" My heart stopped. A cold wave of suspicion washed over me.

Apartment 501 was the dream townhouse Julian and I had bought seven years ago.

But due to his perfectionism, he insisted we couldn't move in until we successfully completed our wedding.

So for seven years, we lived in a cramped rented apartment, promising to respect the boundary of our future home. When I drove over, the front door was slightly ajar.

Through the crack, a woman's giggling voice drifted out. "It's all your fault for giving Ellie a deduction.

You scared her away before we could even take a photo together!" The sound of playful kicking echoed, followed by Julian's fond chuckle. "You little drunkard." "Fine, fine, it's my fault.

I won't deduct points for her missing the photo session, okay?" He gently caught her flailing foot, rubbing it softly. The tenderness in his eyes was almost overflowing.

So, he did know how to take care of someone. But when I got drunk once and merely leaned against his shoulder, he locked me out of our rented apartment.

He told me to sober up outside and stop acting hysterical. In tendegree weather, I froze until my bones ached. I never dared to touch alcohol again.

Yet here he was, breaking his own sacred boundary, bringing a drunk Serena into our future home. He let her run wild, turning the pristine living room into a mess.

I pushed the door open. Julian looked up.

A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but it quickly turned into irritation when he saw the DoorDash bag in my hand. "Rule Number Three of the Perfect Girlfriend Rulebook: Respect privacy boundaries before marriage." "Checking up on my deliveries.

Tenpoint deduction." No explanation. Just blame. A wave of absurdity washed over me. I felt incredibly exhausted.

Talking to him was like shouting into a void. "Julian, let's break..." Before I could finish, a heavily intoxicated Serena suddenly stumbled over. "No deducting points from Ellie!" She pushed Julian aside and grabbed my hand tightly. "Ellie, my BFF!

You didn't take a photo with me today. Are you mad at me?" "I didn't mean to steal your wedding. Here, I'll give the ring back to you.

Let's make up!" She yanked the wedding ring off her finger, but her drunken hands couldn't align with mine. The heavy stench of alcohol hit my face.

Annoyed, I tried to pull my hand back. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my finger. Julian violently shoved me away, grabbing Serena's hand.

He looked at me as if I were a monster. "Ellie, are you insane?!" The cry of pain caught in my throat, choking me.

He kicked the bloodstained ring far across the room, lifted Serena onto the couch, and frantically ripped open the firstaid kit. The blood on Serena's finger had come from me.

It could have been wiped away with a single swipe. Yet, he wrapped her finger in five thick layers of gauze.

Then, as if remembering something, he scooped Serena up in his arms and rushed toward the door. "I'm taking Serena to get a tetanus shot.

Go back to the apartment and think about what you did!" "Until she forgives you, the wedding is postponed indefinitely!" He slammed the door and ran.

The rushing wind blew away my quiet whisper. "Julian... the one who got hurt was me."

By the time I walked downstairs, the car I had driven over was gone. Julian had taken it to the hospital.

He hadn't cared if I needed a ride, or how I would get home in the middle of the night. I opened my Uber app, but the search wheel kept spinning. No drivers were nearby.

My finger had already swollen into a dark purple line. Giving up on the hospital, I limped into a small 24hour clinic nearby.

The cold sting of the tetanus shot pierced my arm, making my face go pale. I mindlessly opened Instagram. Serena's post popped up immediately. "My first tetanus shot ever.

It hurts so much!" "But thank God someone is here to share the pain!" The attached photo showed Julian's side profile, a faint bite mark on his jaw.

He was smiling with pure indulgence. Julian always said a perfect girlfriend had to be independent.

So when I was in so much menstrual pain that I nearly blacked out, he ignored my pleas to go to the hospital. Instead, he just sent me a DoorDash link for painkillers.

I thought my pain tolerance had become incredibly high under his strict training. But tonight, the tears wouldn't stop falling.

The doctor paused, softening his grip as he pulled the needle out, telling me to sit and rest. I nodded, my eyes involuntarily sliding down to the comment section of Serena's post.

Julian's burner account had commented: Perfect behavior during the injection, no crying. +100 points. And a little surprise trip for you.

Clicking on the screenshot in the reply, I saw two tickets for a tour of Switzerland. My fingers froze in midair. Those were the tickets for our honeymoon.

Because our wedding had been canceled for seven years, this trip had been delayed for seven years.

He had told me that if the tickets expired, he would buy new ones, but the "perfect process" could not be violated. No one could bypass the rules for personal feelings.

Yet now, he was handing our honeymoon to another woman like a cheap party favor. Can a secondhand romance ever be perfect? I didn't know.

Wiping away my tears, I left a comment under his reply. "Have a safe flight." "Let's break up." I didn't want a secondhand honeymoon. And I didn't want him.

Within seconds, Julian's calls started flooding in. I declined them all. Then, the text messages came like rapidfire. "Is it fun throwing a tantrum on Serena's Instagram?

Have you reflected on your behavior at all?" "Serena was generous enough to forgive you. It's only fair that I compensate her with a trip.

Stop overreacting." "Rule Number One of the Perfect Girlfriend Rulebook: Always reply instantly.

Tenpoint deduction." Finally, he seemed to make a concession. "Tomorrow at 10 AM, be there on time, and we'll take you with us." Ignoring his wishful thinking, I blocked both him and Serena on everything.

Then, I opened my chat with Mr. Carter. "Our flight got bumped up.

We're leaving tomorrow morning." I replied, "Okay." After sleeping on the clinic's plastic chair for the night, I took an Uber back to the apartment at dawn.

I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight to the airport. While waiting at the boarding gate, I suddenly saw Julian staring at me in shock. I checked my watch. It was only 7 AM.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Serena's excited voice came from behind him. "Ellie! Are you coming to Switzerland with us too?" She dragged her suitcase over, looking exhausted.

Clearly, they had just arrived. Julian swallowed his words, his face hardening. "No, she's late again." See? His clock was only ever on time for Serena.

From the promised 10 AM to this blatant favoritism. From beginning to end, he never planned on letting me join their trip. After a tense silence, Julian sighed helplessly.

He pulled the wipedclean wedding ring from his pocket and gently slid it onto my ring finger. "Be good. We'll be back in seven days.

Get the wedding ready, and I'll be there on time." "Now, stop throwing a fit.

I won't even deduct points for your lateness, okay?" He was convinced I was still the same stupid Ellie who would wait for him forever.

The girl who would get jealous over his interactions with Serena but could be easily appeased with a cheap promise. But he was wrong.

When you've truly decided to leave, even an explanation feels like a waste of breath.

Watching their departing figures, I pulled the ring off my finger, tossed it into a nearby trash can, and walked toward my gate. I was heading toward a future without him.

Seven days later, the moment Julian stepped off his flight, he rushed to the wedding hall, hitting his arrival time perfectly. But the moment he stepped inside, he froze.

The grand hall was completely empty. No wedding decorations, no guests. A wave of panic surged in his chest. He grabbed the venue manager. "Isn't Ellie's wedding today?

Where is everyone?" The manager looked at him with confusion. "Ms. Sterling? She canceled all her upcoming bookings a week ago. I heard she moved abroad!"