His Wedding My Exit Chapter 02
The Novels Starts From Here
Chapter 01
A month out from the wedding, Hayden decided the photos I’d chosen were too tacky, so he rounded up a handful of his fraternity brothers to score them.
The candid shot I loved most, a four.
The hair and makeup I’d sat three hours for, a five.
The occasional eights only landed because my hairstyle happened to look like Adele’s, or my makeup did.
At last Brody threw a photo of Adele up beside mine on the big screen. “On the left is your girlfriend. On the right is the girl every guy in the fraternity wanted—the one you chased for two years and never won over. If you had to choose again, who would you pick?”
The whole room broke into laughter.
Hayden only laughed and swore at him. “Screw off.”
Adele sat all the way in the back, taking a slow sip of her drink. “Stop messing around. Freya will get upset.”
His brothers laughed even harder. “Why would she be upset? She’s the one marrying Hayden in the end, isn’t she?”
I didn’t argue. I just lowered my eyes and typed out a message to my wedding planner.
“I signed all the contracts, and I paid for everything with my card. If I cancel now, can I cut my losses?”
The reply landed in under a minute.
“Freya, if you cancel before ten tomorrow morning, you’ll only lose the deposits.”
The photos held on the big screen for a good ten seconds. On the left was me; on the right was an old college shot of Adele.
I was in a heavily embellished wedding dress, my hair and makeup the product of three full hours. She wore nothing but a white slip dress, her short hair barely brushing her ears, standing at the edge of the track and smiling.
Brody studied it for a moment. “Freya looks pretty enough on her own, but putting her next to Adele makes her pale in comparison.”
Someone beside him jumped in at once. “They’re not the same type. Freya is the kind of girl who makes a guy want to settle down.”
“Adele can’t settle down?”
“How is that the same? Adele was the undisputed goddess of our fraternity back then. The guys chasing her lined up from our apartment all the way off campus. Hayden chased her for two years and still couldn’t win her over.” The whole group started laughing.
My eyes went to Hayden without my meaning them to.
He wasn’t angry. He only lifted a foot and kicked Brody. “Get out of here.” There was even a smile in his voice.
Brody clutched his leg. “What, I can’t even talk about it? If Adele had nodded yes back then, who knows who would be standing on the left in these wedding photos now.” Someone let out a whistle.
Hayden finally frowned. “That’s enough.” But he didn’t deny it.
And he didn’t shut off the big screen.
Adele finally set her glass down. “Alright, today is about helping Freya pick photos. Stop joking about our college days.” She was telling them to let it go.
But she made a point of stressing “our college days”—a stretch of the past I had never belonged to.
The screen sat frozen a beat before Hayden reached out and clicked to the next photo. “Shall we continue, then?”
I nodded. “Continue.” The next one was my absolute favorite.
When the image switched, it caught me glancing back over my shoulder just as the wind lifted my veil a little. I wasn’t looking at the camera, and my smile was entirely natural.
Brody barely glanced at it. “I’ll give this one a four. It’s too plain. Hayden standing next to her makes it look like he brought an assistant.” A few of the guys laughed out loud.
I asked Hayden, “What do you think?”
He looked for two seconds. “There’s really no need to keep it.”
“But I really like it.”
“The display photo is for everyone else to look at. What’s the point if you’re the only one who likes it?” I said nothing.
Beneath this photo in the gallery, the studio had left a note: Natural candid, client favorite. Hayden waved a hand. “Delete it.” He didn’t actually delete it; he only unchecked it from the selections.
In the next photo, my long hair was pinned up, just two loose strands left to frame my face.
Brody said, “Eight.” The highest score of the day so far.
Someone next to him stared for two seconds. “No wonder Hayden likes it. Isn’t that the hairstyle Adele wore all the time in college?” Hayden’s hand stilled.
But Adele laughed. “How many years ago was that? You guys still remember?”
Brody said, “It doesn’t matter if we remember, as long as someone does.” Adele didn’t reply. She only tilted her head and cut a glance at Hayden.
Next photo.
Someone said, “These earrings are nice. Freya doesn’t look so plain wearing them.”
Adele said softly, “Didn’t I have a pair just like those back then?” Next photo.
“This veil is a seven.”
Adele laughed again. “Wasn’t the one I wore in my graduation photos similar to that?” Another photo.
Photo after photo of my wedding shoot, and it had somehow turned into a game of spot-the-difference. They weren’t checking whether I looked beautiful.
They were checking where I looked like Adele.
Until someone said, “This wedding dress is nice. It finally has a bit of high-end elegance.”
Adele had been looking down, answering a message, but at those words she jerked her head up and fixed on the camellia at my waist. She studied it a few seconds, then smiled all at once.
“Hayden, you still kept this design?” The living room dropped silent in an instant.
I turned toward her. “What do you mean?”
Adele pretended she’d just caught her own slip. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “Nothing. I made a mistake.”
But Brody’s curiosity was already lit. “You mean that drawing from college?”
Adele frowned. “Brody.”
“Why can’t we talk about it?”
He pointed at the camellia on my waist. “Didn’t Hayden draw a dress for you during junior year? It had this exact same flower on the waist.” A buzzing rose in my ears.
Adele frowned. “Brody.”
“Why can’t we talk about it?”
He pointed at the camellia on my waist. “Didn’t Hayden draw a dress for you during junior year? It had this exact same flower on the waist.” A buzzing rose in my ears.
When I’d first gone dress shopping the year before, Hayden had only stayed with me a single afternoon. He called the first one tacky, said the second made me look fat, and when I stepped out in the third, he frowned. “Why do you always like these flashy, complicated things?”
The bridal consultant tried to smooth it over. “Actually, Freya looks beautiful in this dress. It’s one of this year’s new arrivals.”
Hayden kept his head down, toying with his phone. “Even the new arrivals are tacky.” I didn’t choose a single dress that day.
That night, probably sensing I was low, he did something rare. He sat down beside me with his tablet. “Stop looking. I’ll draw one for you.”
I’d been stunned for a long moment. “You know how?”
“I’ve seen enough to figure it out.” He stayed up over that design until two in the morning.
When he handed it to me the next day, I stared at that camellia on the waist for a long time.
My mom’s eyes had welled up the first time she saw the finished dress. “Hayden is so busy, but he still designed your wedding dress himself. You really matter to him.” I had believed the same thing.
And now here was Adele, sitting across from me, tossing it off so lightly, “We were all young back then. He just drew it for fun. I had almost forgotten about it.”
I looked at Hayden. “What about you?”
His expression had already soured. “It’s from ten years ago. How could I possibly remember?”
I looked at Hayden. “What about you?”
His expression had already soured. “It’s from ten years ago. How could I possibly remember?”
Adele suddenly laughed. “You don’t remember?” She looked at the camellia on my waist.
“But the position of the flower hasn’t changed at all.” The air froze on the spot.
Hayden shot her a sharp look.
Adele, playing at only now realizing she’d said too much, dropped her eyes. “Sorry. I just thought it was a coincidence.” She paused, then looked at me again.
“But it suits Freya.”
“Hayden used to say that this design was only suited for people with narrow waists.”
Adele smiled once she’d finished. “You probably look better in it than I would have back then.” It had the shape of a compliment.
But every syllable was telling me: The thing you’re wearing is something I had ten years ago.
Brody, never one to pass up a bit of drama, added, “So Freya’s basically wearing the dress Adele never got to wear.” The guys started laughing again.
I asked, out of nowhere, “Is it funny?” The laughter cut off.
Brody waved a hand. “Freya, it’s just a joke. Don’t take it so seriously.”
I looked at him. “When you get married, if your wife puts your wedding photo on the big screen right next to her ex-boyfriend’s photo, has a whole room of people rate who is more handsome, and then tells you that the best things about you are the parts that look like her ex, would you find that funny too?” Brody’s face went stiff.
No one was laughing anymore.
No one was laughing anymore.
Hayden’s voice dropped. “Freya.”
I turned to him. “What?”
“That’s enough.” I looked at him, and all at once the whole thing struck me as absurd.
“Are we picking out my wedding photos today, or are we picking out where I look like Adele?”
Hayden’s face darkened. “They were just making a joke. Why do you have to twist it into a personal attack?”
Adele stood up right away. “Freya, please don’t misunderstand. They’ve always been like this. Hayden and I are truly in the past.” I hadn’t even said anything.
She added softly, “Besides, you’re the one he’s marrying in the end. There’s really no need for you to mind these things.” You’re the one he’s marrying in the end.
It came out sounding like charity. As if she’d graciously stepped aside from a seat she no longer wanted and handed it down to me, and I was supposed to feel thankful.
Hayden frowned too. “Adele already explained. What more do you want?” I looked at him.
And suddenly I didn’t want to say a single word.
I held the remote out to Brody. “Continue.”
Brody didn’t take it. “Freya…”
“Weren’t we rating them? Don’t skip a single one.” For the next twenty-odd photos, they really did go through and score every one.
Threes, fives, sixes. The rare sevens and eights came only because my makeup looked like Adele’s or my hair did. The few photos that were truly mine got the lowest marks.
Three, fives, sixes. The rare sevens and eights came only because my makeup looked like Adele’s or my hair did. The few photos that were truly mine got the lowest marks.
I suddenly remembered the note the studio had clipped to the gallery on delivery—Choose your absolute favorites. But Hayden had frowned. “Her taste has always been pretty bad. It’s better to let everyone help pick.”
I asked, “My taste is bad?”
“You didn’t know?” He said it like the question itself was hilarious.
“It was the same when we were decorating the apartment. You insisted on warm-colored walls, a fabric sofa, and you even wanted to put a whole row of flower stands on the balcony. Would that even look good?”
Someone laughed. “Freya is that family-oriented?”
Brody chimed in too. “Like I said, the kind of vibe that makes a guy want to settle down.”
But Adele smiled and said, “Warm colors are actually quite nice.”
Almost on reflex, Hayden answered, “The warm colors you like are nice. What she picks is a completely different vibe.” The living room went quiet for a second.
Hayden caught it himself, but he offered no explanation. Adele looked down and sipped her water, though I saw the corners of her lips tug up. And in that moment I found myself back in our second year of dating. The first time I was going to meet this crowd, I’d gone out and bought a floral dress specially.
Right before we walked out the door, Hayden frowned. “Can you change into something else? That’s too tacky.” I ended up in a white button-down shirt and jeans. When we arrived, they were flipping through college photos. In the pictures, Adele was wearing the exact same white button-down and jeans.
Someone laughed and said, “Freya’s outfit actually looks a lot like what Adele used to wear.” Back then, I’d actually been a little happy.
I took it to mean I had finally dressed right for once. Over the next six years, I changed my style of clothes. I changed my hair. I changed my makeup. Every time I bought something, I’d even ask him on instinct, “Is this okay?”
After being turned down so many times, I really started to doubt myself, wondering if I simply didn’t know how to dress, if my taste truly was that awful. Not until today did it come clear. I had never once chosen wrong. It was only that the correct answer was never the color, the dress, or the hairstyle.
It was Adele. As everyone was filing out, Hayden slung an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll use that last eight-point photo for the welcome display. It’s settled.”
I pulled his hand down. “Okay.” He plainly froze.
He probably hadn’t expected me to give in so fast, but what he didn’t know was that earlier, while I sat there listening to them score me, I’d already sent a message to the wedding planner. I needed to confirm something. If I didn’t want to go through with this wedding.
What was the latest I could cancel.
Chapter 02
It was already 9:00 PM by the time I got home. A few cardboard boxes were stacked by the door—the newest batch of wedding materials from the planner: welcome boxes, save-the-date cards, and gold-stamped cards for the wedding website.
Hayden took a phone call and went straight into the study.
I sat in the living room and opened the boxes one by one. Everything was black and gold. He’d chosen that, too.
I had originally liked dark red.
He’d said, “Red is too tacky. It looks like a template invitation from a cheap wedding company.” So I’d changed it.
I slid out the first save-the-date card. The whole card held just a single line of text.
“Hayden Calderon’s Wedding Weekend.”
I stared at it for a few seconds, then pulled out another. The exact same line. The third. The fourth. All sixty of them, identical.
I called my wedding planner right away. “Why isn’t my name on the save-the-date cards?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Freya, are you talking about the batch going to Hayden’s friends?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hayden asked me last week at the last minute to change the signatures on the save-the-date cards, the welcome boxes, and the wedding website for his friends to only include his name. He said his friends all know you, and writing two names would be too crowded.”
I pinched the card between my fingers. “Why didn’t anyone ask me?”
Robin said, awkward, “Hayden said you wouldn’t mind.” I let out a short laugh.
Robin said, awkward, “Hayden said you wouldn’t mind.” I let out a short laugh.
Here it was again. He made the call for me, then decided on my behalf that I wouldn’t mind.
I asked, “Is the one Adele received also the kind with only Hayden’s name?” “Yes, the same batch.”
The card Adele got carried a single line on the front.
“Hayden Calderon’s Wedding Weekend.” My name was nowhere on it.
All she needed to know was that he was getting married. Who the bride happened to be didn’t seem to register at all. I hung up and opened a welcome box. Inside the black velvet case sat candles, chocolates, and a metal commemorative token. The front bore only his name.
“Hayden Calderon.” The back had the wedding date, and under it, again, just the one line. “Hayden Calderon’s Wedding Weekend.” Still no me. A laugh burst out of me. This wasn’t a printing error.
In this entire run of items going out to his friends, the bride didn’t exist. My phone buzzed right then. Over in Brody’s group chat, some of them had already gotten their samples.
“The wedding weekend box Hayden put together is pretty sick.”
“You can tell it’s Hayden’s style at first glance.” Brody posted a photo of the metal token.
Someone asked, “Where is Freya’s name?”
Brody replied, “As long as the person shows up, what’s the point of a name?” A row of “hahaha”s scrolled beneath it.
Less than a minute later, Hayden liked that message. I stared at the notification. So he hadn’t merely overlooked it. He genuinely felt it made no difference whether my name was there. Soon after, Adele sent a message too.
“Black and gold still looks as good as it used to.”
“Black and gold still looks as good as it used to.”
Brody jumped in at once. “You even remember that?”
Adele replied, “He said back in college that he wanted his future wedding to be black and gold, and that he didn’t like red.”
Brody fired off an over-the-top emoji. “Tsk, you’re still the one who understands him best.” Hayden didn’t push back.
A while later, Adele messaged me privately, out of the blue.
“Freya, are you upset?” I didn’t answer.
She sent another.
“They were just running their mouths today. Please don’t fight with Hayden over those things from the past. He hates it most when people force him to explain the past.” I stared at the message.
I asked her, “You know him very well?”
She answered instantly, “We’ve known each other for over ten years, so I understand him a little.” A few seconds passed.
She unsent it and typed a new one.
“I used to know him well, but now, of course, you know him better.” I didn’t reply.
The study door happened to swing open.
Hayden came out, saw the materials strewn across the floor, and asked, “Why did you open all of these?”
I held out the save-the-date card. “Explain this.”
He glanced down. “What?”
“Where is my name?”
“Isn’t it written on the formal invitations?”
“I’m talking about these save-the-date cards sent to your friends.”
“Isn’t it written on the formal invitations?”
“I’m talking about these save-the-date cards sent to your friends.”
I passed him the metal token next. “What about this?”
“What’s the difference?”
“This is our wedding.”
“So what?”
I asked, “Why do the things being sent to your friends, from the save-the-date cards to the wedding website to the welcome boxes, only have your name on them?”
Hayden was clearly losing patience. “Because they’re my friends. Who doesn’t know who you are? Do we really have to print both names for it to count as getting married?”
“What about Adele?”
“Why are you bringing her up again?”
“The card she received doesn’t have my name on the front either.”
His face went fully dark. “Freya, do you really have to treat a single name like it’s the biggest deal in the world?” I froze.
He went on, “It’s just a name. Do you have to turn it into a matter of principle? A wedding is about two people living their lives together, not about you using a save-the-date card to make yourself feel important.”
“I want my name to appear on the wedding materials sent to your friends, and you call that wanting to make myself feel important?”
“If you care so much, just reprint them. Problem solved.”
“Who’s paying for it?”
My question grated on him. “If you insist on changing them, you pay for it yourself, obviously.”
I looked at him. “My parents are the ones paying for the wedding.” He paused.
I looked at him. “My parents are the ones paying for the wedding.” He paused.
“So what?” I smiled all of a sudden.
“Nothing.” Ten minutes later, Hayden’s mother called.
Her opening line was, “Freya, sweetheart, this batch looks quite elegant. Hayden’s taste has always been better than yours, so don’t go insisting on changing them to red again.” I said nothing.
She pressed on. “When Hayden’s father and I got married, the Calderon family decided all those details too. The people in this circle—are they looking at the Calderons or the Merricks? Don’t let the people at the club make a joke out of us just over a name.”
I dropped my gaze to the words on the card.
Hayden Calderon’s Wedding Weekend.
“You really don’t think that matters?” I asked.
“Of course it doesn’t matter. This wedding is about the Calderon family’s standing at the club and its old connections. Once you’re part of the Calderon family, you’ll understand—a name on a card won’t change the Calderons’ place in this circle.”
“Okay.” I hung up.
Hayden came out of the kitchen, saw me repacking the materials into the cardboard boxes, and his face finally eased. “You figured it out?”
“Yes.”
“You should have just done this earlier.” He turned and went to shower.
I picked up my phone. Robin, the wedding planner, had just answered my message.
“Freya, you paid for basically all the wedding expenses, and you were the one who personally signed the contracts for the hotel, the planning, the photography, the wedding transportation, and the florals.”
Hayden Calderon’s Wedding Weekend.
“You really don’t think that matters?” I asked.
“Of course it doesn’t matter. This wedding is about the Calderon family’s standing at the club and its old connections. Once you’re part of the Calderon family, you’ll understand—a name on a card won’t change the Calderons’ place in this circle.”
“Okay.” I hung up.
Hayden came out of the kitchen, saw me repacking the materials into the cardboard boxes, and his face finally eased. “You figured it out?”
“Yes.”
“You should have just done this earlier.” He turned and went to shower.
I picked up my phone. Robin, the wedding planner, had just answered my message.
“Freya, you paid for basically all the wedding expenses, and you were the one who personally signed the contracts for the hotel, the planning, the photography, the wedding transportation, and the florals.”
“So as long as you want to, you can cancel at any time. But the final payment for the hotel and catering, as well as the confirmed table count, must be finalized before ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“If you cancel before ten, you only lose the deposit and cancellation fees. After ten, the system will automatically deduct the second payment, and you’ll lose much more.” I read it through twice.
Tomorrow morning at ten. As long as I signed, this wedding without my name on it could genuinely go on without a bride.