Cancel the Wedding, I'll Take Blood Instead

"Everything's going to be okay, Juliet," Penny murmured, wrapping her arms around me from behind as we stood before the fresh grave. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as the memory flashed through my mind—my mother collapsing beside me in that church. There I was, standing in my designer wedding gown, when my bridesmaid whispered the words that shattered everything: the groom was missing, and the ceremony couldn't start without him.

Mom had been fighting breast cancer for months. The doctors had been clear—her time was running out. Her last wish? To see me marry Samuel.

"Juliet, I need to know you'll be with someone who loves you before I go," she'd said after her diagnosis, her voice frail but determined.

"Of course, Mom. I love Samuel. He's the one," I lied through a forced smile, if only to ease her worry.

Later, I'd begged Samuel on my knees. "Please, just marry me for my mother's sake. You can be with whoever you want afterward—I just need her to have peace in her final days."

His icy stare cut through me. "Why should I? I don't love you."

"My mother is dying," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "This is all she wants. Please."

Reluctantly, he agreed. I should've known better than to trust him.

On the wedding day, Samuel never showed. The shock sent Mom into cardiac arrest. By the time we reached the hospital, she was gone. When I finally got through to Samuel, his voice was dripping with irritation:

"What do you want, Juliet? Nora cut her finger cooking for me. I'm busy."

"Samuel, wait—"

The line went dead. Pathetic, how I'd actually believed he'd keep his word.

Penny held me together through the funeral. The world blurred around me—one day Mom was here, the next, I was clutching her photo to my chest, whispering, "Goodbye," as if she could still hear me.

I returned to the penthouse we shared, but Samuel wasn't there. My legs gave out the moment I stepped inside. Tremors wracked my body; tears streamed unchecked. Of course he'd chosen Nora. He always did. Even during our relationship, she came first—midnight calls, last-minute cancellations, the way people smirked when they saw them together.

But abandoning me at the altar? That crossed a line. Maybe Mom would've had more time if he'd just shown up.

I forced myself to pack. If I wanted the life Mom dreamed for me, I had to start by cutting out the poison. Just as I zipped the last suitcase, the bedroom door swung open. There stood Samuel, with Nora glued to his side like a possessive limpet.

"Juliet, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, eyes flicking between me and the luggage.

"Why do you care?" The words tore out of me before I could stop them.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, this is about the wedding? Nora was hurt—she needed me. Get over it."

Nora blinked up at him, her only visible injury a cartoon-bandaged finger.

"Actually," I said, locking eyes with him, "we're done."