The Don’s Last Regret

The wedding had been postponed ninety-nine times.

I called the wedding planner and told them to change the bride's name to Ivy Sterling, Charles Hart's childhood sweetheart.

Donna, are you sure? the planner asked cautiously. This time, the Don didn't postpone again.

I heard the surprise in his voice. My answer was calm. "Yes. Change it to Ivy Sterling."

From the very beginning, Charles gave only one instruction for the wedding: "Adjust the decorations according to Ivy's taste."

He explained that Ivy had good taste, that she would only serve as a reference for our wedding. But every choice, the flowers, the favors, the entrance music, was made by Ivy. Even my wedding dress. She had said lightly, "A mermaid silhouette suits her better."

So I decided to give the entire wedding, steeped in her presence, to them.

And I walked away from this farce completely.

From now on, let him keep his old dreams. I will go and enjoy my own boundless sky.

Chapter 1

"We'll make the changes immediately. But do we need to inform the Don in advance?"

The wedding planner's voice was careful.

I looked at the screen calmly. "No need."

The call ended. The computer screen went dark.

I looked around the villa, the home Charles and I were supposed to move into next month. Three floors. Every corner dripping with elegance.

But the crystal chandelier in the living room was installed because Ivy said it had "class." The silk bedding in the bedroom was chosen because Ivy said it was "soft on the skin." Even the diffuser by the entrance was Ivy's favorite scent: Bluebell.

I felt like a guest wandering into someone else's territory.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face. On the marble counter lay a used Tom Ford lipstick. The shade was Ivy's signature vintage red. Beside it, a delicate pearl earring.

My phone buzzed. A voice message from Charles.

"Serena, the wedding planner said you contacted them several times today?"

I typed a short reply: "Just a small detail. It's handled."

A few minutes later, he answered with a single word: "Okay."

Then another message. A photo.

Ivy was in a champagne-colored gown, turning in front of a mirror. "Ivy's trying on bridesmaid dresses. The zipper got stuck. I'm helping her." "The boutique has nice pieces. She can't decide which one. Want to come and help her choose?"

I stared at the screen. My hands and feet went cold.

Last week, I went alone to try on my wedding dress. In the fitting room, the intricate lacing choked me. I called him for help. He said, "Serena, ask the staff to help you. Ivy's car broke down. I need to pick her up."

I stood in that mermaid gown, chosen by Ivy, a size too small, for half an hour under the sympathetic gaze of the salesgirls.

And now, he was helping his childhood friend adjust her bridesmaid dress. And he wanted me to come play the audience.

I called him.

"Are you there?"

"No." My voice was steady. "Let's end this. The wedding..."

Before I could finish, Ivy's voice cut through the line, coquettish. "Charles, look at this one! Is it pretty? Don't just stand there on the phone. Help me decide."

Charles's tone shifted instantly. Warmer. Softer. "Beautiful. Everything our Ivy picks is beautiful."

Then he seemed to remember I was still on the line. "You said something about the wedding? Once it's set, don't keep changing it."

"Nothing. Take your time helping her choose."

I forced a smile, barely. Even disappointment felt like too much effort.

"Ivy is the bridesmaid. Her dress represents the Hart family's face. I have to be involved. Don't be too sensitive."

Then, as if to soften his tone: "I ordered a ruby necklace for Ivy. The store threw in a cheap diamond bracelet as a gift. I was going to refuse it, but Ivy said it would suit you. I'll bring it back later."

Ivy's voice slid in again, sweet as syrup. "Don't mind him, Serena. He's just a typical man. I know the gift piece isn't the best quality, but you dress so simply usually. It'll be just right on you. On the wedding day, we'll wear them together. It's my little gift to you both."

She wanted to wear the main piece, the ruby, and have me wear the giveaway. On my wedding day. To show everyone who was really cherished in the Hart family.

This had been the pattern ever since Ivy returned a year ago.

When he traveled, Charles brought Ivy limited-edition bags worth hundreds of thousands, and picked up a random discounted perfume for me at the duty-free shop. When she wanted a limited-release luxury item, he postponed our wedding again and again.

When I confronted him, he was unapologetic. "Ivy is used to the best. You don't dress up much anyway. A cheap one is fine for you. And those postponements were just accidents. Next time, I promise, I won't delay again."

And Ivy would always laugh and play the peacemaker. "Don't be like that to her, Charles. You know, I still have some of the things you gave me back then. I could give them to her."

I smiled into the phone. "Thank you, Miss Sterling. And thank you, Mr. Hart."

Then I hung up.

Funny. When disappointment piles up high enough, even the words you want to say feel like a waste.

I went back to the bedroom and opened the closet. More than half of it was filled with the latest season's clothes Charles had bought me, to "keep up appearances," he said. The tags were still on.

I pulled out my old suitcase and packed a few changes of clothes and my laptop.

A message from my editor at the magazine.

"Serena, the transfer order for the Paris bureau just came through. Are you sure you're leaving tomorrow? Isn't tomorrow your wedding?"

I looked at the bluebell fragrance filling the room, at Ivy's lipstick on the bathroom counter.

"Yes. Because the bride has changed."

Chapter 2

That night, Charles and Ivy walked in together.

"Here, Serena."

Charles handed me a black velvet box without any wrapping. Inside lay a thin diamond bracelet. The giveaway piece.

Around Ivy's neck gleamed the ruby necklace. The main piece. The blood-red gem pierced my eyes. My fingers paused for just a moment.

On our first anniversary, I had once admired a ruby necklace in a shop window. Charles pulled me away. "Too flashy. You'd look like a nouveau riche."

It wasn't that the ruby was flashy. It was that I was the wrong person to wear it.

"See? Charles is such a typical man. He didn't even wrap it," Ivy said, touching the ruby at her throat. "But the diamond bracelet really suits you. You don't go out much anyway. Anything more would be wasted."

I closed the cheap black box. "You're right. It would be wasted on me."

Charles looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He must have noticed how quiet I was tonight.

But Ivy had already settled onto the sofa. She pulled out the wedding itinerary from her limited-edition bag.

"By the way, I swapped the main wedding car for a Porsche convertible tomorrow. I get carsick easily. Charles said the fresh air would help. You don't mind, do you?"

My wedding. The car changed for the bridesmaid.

I looked at the suitcase by the door. "Do whatever you want."

Charles followed my gaze and saw the old suitcase, the one I had brought when we first moved in together.

"Are you going on a business trip?" He frowned. "The wedding is tomorrow."

Before I could answer, a sharp gasp.

Ivy's water glass crashed onto the carpet. "Charles, I'm sorry..." She clutched her chest. "I suddenly feel dizzy."

Charles's face changed instantly. "Did you catch a chill outside? Is your heart acting up again?"

His voice was full of worry and tenderness.

My words died in my throat.

I looked at the shattered glass on the carpet. Our couple cups. Last year, Charles gave Ivy a whole set of Italian handmade porcelain. I asked him if there was anything in our relationship that belonged only to me. He frowned and called me petty.

Then he bought these two mugs. The only real comfort he had ever given me. Mine had a cartoon of my face. Now it was broken.

"I've told you not to drink cold water. How many times do I have to say it?" Charles scolded Ivy, his face stern but his eyes soft with concern.

Last winter, I ran a fever of 104. I could barely stand. Charles only said: "Drink some water, take your medicine, and sleep it off. You'll be fine tomorrow."

Now Ivy had only dropped a glass. And he acted like it was an emergency.

Ivy leaned against him, looking weak, and glanced at me. "Charles, the first dance at the wedding tomorrow... you really want to dance it with me? Won't Serena be angry?"

Charles patted her back. "You've dreamed of dancing a waltz in a wedding hall since you were a child. I promised you. I never break my promises. Serena is sensible. She's not the jealous type."

The first dance at my wedding. The groom would dance it with the bridesmaid.

I watched them, their bodies pressed together, and suddenly I laughed.

Charles saw the curve of my lips and seemed pleased with my "understanding." "I knew you'd get it. I've always treated Ivy like a little sister. I'm used to taking care of her."

Ivy snuggled closer into his arms. "Don't overthink it, Serena. I still remember when we were kids. I wanted to see fireworks, so Charles sneaked me out over the wall. His father made him kneel all night as punishment. And the first time I learned to dance, I fell and cried. He carried me all the way home."

She sighed. "We're just like brother and sister. You're so lucky, Serena. After tomorrow, you'll be the real Mrs. Hart."

Charles looked down at her indulgently. "Feeling better?"

Ivy wrapped her arms around his neck. "A little. Just a tiny little bit."

Charles's eyes softened. "All right. I'll carry you to your room to rest."

Then he finally remembered I was still standing there. "We have a wedding tomorrow. Go to bed early. I'll come back once Ivy is settled."

He carried Ivy upstairs, disappearing behind the master bedroom door.

The door closed, muffling the soft laughter inside.

I didn't go to my room. I walked calmly to my suitcase and tucked in the last of my documents.

As I zipped it shut, a violent cramp twisted my stomach.

I collapsed to the floor, cold sweat soaking through my clothes. I fumbled for my phone.

"Charles... I have a stomach cramp. It really hurts. I can't walk. Can you take me to the hospital?"

Chapter 3

Two seconds of silence on the line. Then Ivy's nasal, sleepy voice: "Charles, my chest still feels tight..."

Charles's voice dropped low. "Serena, Ivy just recovered from her heart episode. She has a bad heart. She can't be left alone."

I curled on the carpet, the pain twisting like a knife in my gut. "I'm really in pain."

Another pause. Ivy whispered, "Charles, maybe you should go check on her..."

He cut her off. "Don't push yourself."

Then back to me: "Don't overthink it. Heart problems are dangerous. It's just a stomach ache. I'll call an ambulance for you right now."

He hung up.

I looked at the closed master bedroom door. From the living room to the stairs, only a dozen steps. But he wouldn't take them.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. He still didn't come down.

I dragged myself along the wall, inch by inch, to the entrance.

The paramedics saw my pale face and rushed to help me.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was still dark outside. The smell of antiseptic filled my nose. A needle was taped to the back of my hand, cold fluid dripping slowly into my vein.

Charles walked in. Ivy followed.

She wore a white mini dress, his suit jacket draped over her shoulders. The ruby at her throat gleamed under the hospital lights.

Charles saw I was awake and seemed relieved. He came to the bedside and adjusted my IV bag, but he didn't speak.

I looked at him. The leftover pain in my stomach still throbbed.

But I felt strangely calm.

"Charles," I said. "I'm really looking forward to the surprise I prepared for you at the wedding."

"What surprise?" He looked at me with a flicker of anticipation, an expression I hadn't seen in a long time.

When we first started dating, I made him a birthday cake. The frosting was a mess. But he held it and stared at it for a long time. He said, "Serena, anything you make for me, I love."

Back then, he really did see me.

I wasn't wrong about him then. He just changed.

Now, as I watched that rare glimmer of hope in his eyes, I started to speak.

Ivy leaned in. "What surprise? Serena, did you prepare a gift too?"

I didn't answer.

The nurse came to remove my IV. A bead of blood welled up where the needle came out. Charles glanced at it. For a second, something almost like remorse crossed his face.

"The wedding is about to start. Get some rest."

The door closed.

I peeled off the medical tape.

Half an hour later, I was back at the villa.

The bluebell fragrance hit me first, cloying, thick.

The welcome gifts and bouquet from the wedding planner sat in the living room. Champagne-colored ribbons draped down the staircase. Every detail was Ivy's taste.

I dragged my suitcase upstairs. The master bedroom door was ajar.

No Charles. No Ivy. Wherever he had gone to "rest," it wasn't here.

Ivy's shawl lay on the bed. Her lipstick and earrings were scattered across the vanity.

My wedding room. Like a hotel she had lived in for years.

I didn't look again.

I opened the drawer and took out the wedding ring Charles had given me. A thin band. He had said, "A wedding ring is just a formality. No need to be flashy."

Ivy's ruby necklace could have bought fifty of these rings.

I set the ring next to the diamond bracelet gift.

Then I placed the villa keys, the access card, and the wedding itinerary on the coffee table.

Finally, I picked up the invitation card. The bride's name had already been changed to Ivy Sterling.

I took a black pen and wrote one line in the blank space: "Wishing you both a happy wedding."

I clicked the pen shut. The sound was soft, like a lock turning.

My phone buzzed. A message from Charles.

I didn't read it. I blocked him.

At the door, I looked back one last time. This house had never really been mine.

At the airport, check-in, security, everything went smoothly.

I turned off my phone. Cut off the past.