They Switched My Groom So I Married The Wrong Man Chapter 08
The Man I Recognize
Sophie messages me the day she leaves the hospital.
I’m sorry.
I stare at the screen.
Another message arrives.
I ruined your wedding because I was selfish.
Then:
But Ethan really isn’t to blame. I begged him. Please don’t throw away all those years because of me.
I don’t answer.
Because Ethan isn’t innocent.
Sophie could have begged for my dress a thousand times.
She could have cried.
She could have threatened to never speak to him again.
None of it would have mattered if Ethan had simply said no.
He didn’t.
And that is enough.
Looking back, I realize something else.
Whenever it was the three of us, I was always the one being laughed at.
I delete Sophie’s message.
Then her number.
I don’t make the same mistake twice.
A month passes.
My mother calls me from a number I don’t recognize.
I answer because I assume it’s work.
“Claire.”
I almost hang up.
“Your father hurt his ankle.”
I wait.
“He’s in the hospital.”
“I’ll arrange a caregiver.”
Silence.
Then she says quietly,
“He wants to see his daughter.”
“I’m working.”
“Claire.”
“Ask Sophie.”
My mother doesn’t answer.
That tells me enough.
“What happened?”
She hesitates.
“Sophie’s mother came back.”
I remember her mother leaving years ago.
“She did well overseas. She came back recently and asked Sophie to move with her.”
I almost laugh.
“So now that your other daughter has her real mother back, you remember me.”
“Why do you hold grudges like this?”
I lean against the kitchen counter.
“There has to be something to remember before I can hold a grudge.”
She goes quiet.
“I’ll pay for the caregiver,” I say. “Send me the hospital information.”
Then I end the call.
When I turn around, Mrs. Walker is standing behind me with a bowl of fruit.
I don’t know how long she’s been there.
I tighten my grip on the phone.
“Do you think I’m cruel?”
She frowns.
“For what?”
“For not going.”
“You’re still arranging someone to take care of him.”
“Because he’s my father.”
“Exactly.”
She puts the bowl on the counter.
“Love isn’t supposed to mean letting people hurt you whenever they want.”
I look at her.
“If people treat you well, you want to treat them well.”
She shrugs.
“If they don’t, protecting yourself doesn’t make you cruel.”
Something in my chest loosens.
Then she sits beside me.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“I know you and Ryan didn’t exactly get married because you were madly in love.”
I nearly choke.
She laughs.
“Please. My son called me with one hour’s notice.”
“I thought maybe he told you—”
“He did.”
My stomach drops.
“Everything?”
“Enough.”
I look down at my ring.
“Then why didn’t you stop us?”
Mrs. Walker smiles.
“Because he likes you.”
I look up.
“What?”
“He has for a long time.”
I stare at her.
Ryan’s disappointment when I didn’t remember his name.
The way he said he only wanted to see me in my wedding dress.
Before I can ask anything else, the front door opens.
Ryan walks in carrying several bags.
He stops when he sees us.
“Why do you both look like that?”
“Like what?” his mother asks innocently.
“Like you’ve been talking about me.”
“We haven’t.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
He puts the bags on the table.
I stare at the pile.
“What is all this?”
Ryan looks confused.
“You wanted it.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
I think.
Then realize.
“I was asleep.”
“You were talking.”
I start laughing.
“You bought food because I asked for it in my sleep?”
His face falls.
“You don’t want it?”
Mrs. Walker covers her mouth to hide a laugh.
Ryan looks so genuinely disappointed that I stop teasing him.
I reach across the table.
“Give me the fries.”
His expression brightens immediately.
He pushes them toward me.
A month ago, I thought I knew exactly what my life would look like.
I thought I knew who I would marry.
I was wrong.
Maybe forever isn’t something I need to promise today.
Ryan gave me a year.
More importantly, he gave me the right to leave before that year was over.
And somehow, that makes me want to stay.
He sits across from me, ice-blue hair falling over his forehead.
Impossible to miss.
For years, people used my face blindness as an excuse to decide what was real for me.
Ryan never asks me to recognize his face.
He simply makes sure I can always find him.
I reach across the table and take his hand.
He looks down at our fingers.
Then at me.
This time, I know exactly who I chose.