“My Fiancé Died Three Weeks Before Our Wedding — Months Later, I Followed His Mother and Discovered She Was Attending Someone Else’s Wedding Wearing the Dress I Never Got to Wear”

myself in the mirror.

My eyes were swollen.

My mascara was ruined.

“Meredith? Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to take over?”

I thought about Adrian.

Alive. Smiling.

Getting ready for a wedding while I’d spent three months grieving him.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

I wiped my face and picked up my florist badge.

And suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to do next — and how I was going to make Adrian regret what he’d done to me.

I stood in front of the mirror for another few seconds.

My hands were still shaking.

Part of me wanted to leave.

Another part wanted to find Adrian and demand an explanation.

But somehow, neither option felt remotely possible anymore.

He had watched me bury him.

His mother had held my hand while I cried.

Someone had arranged a funeral.

Someone had put a coffin in the ground.