The Wedding He Stole for Her Birthday

A decade with Alexander Adams had been a series of sacrifices—but this one cut deeper than the rest.

My mother was dying. Her frail body fought against time, her only wish to see me married, to witness the ceremony that would seal my happiness. For that dream, I swallowed my pride, begging Alexander ninety-nine times before he finally agreed. His reluctance stung, but it was nothing compared to the light in my mother's eyes when she heard the news.

Despite her failing strength, she climbed Everwood Summit, step by painful step, praying for our future. Desperate for certainty, she consulted a mystic, convinced that timing held the key to our salvation.

Night after sleepless night, her trembling hands embroidered a love knot—a symbol of eternal devotion.

Then, three days before the wedding, Alexander shattered everything.

He stood before me, cold and unyielding. "Madeline's birthday falls on the same day. We'll have to postpone."

I dropped to my knees, my voice breaking. "This date was chosen by someone my mother trusts. She's holding on just to see this day. Madeline will have another birthday—my mother won't have another chance."

He barely glanced at me, too busy scrolling through cake designs for Madeline Landers.

"What do I care if your mother lives or dies?" he said flatly. "Even if she's on her deathbed, she can wait until Madeline's celebration is over."

With that, he walked away, arm in arm with his childhood sweetheart, leaving me behind without a second thought.

So I moved on. Found someone who actually deserved to stand beside me.

On Madeline's birthday, paranoia gnawed at Alexander. Convinced I'd make a scene, he ordered his assistant to watch me.

"Sir, relax," the assistant assured him. "Miss Carter is getting married today—she doesn't have time for your drama."

The hospital room was dim, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and fading hope. My mother sat on the edge of the bed, her frail fingers tracing the embroidered love knot over and over, searching for imperfections she could no longer see.

The cancer had stolen her vision, but not her determination. Every misplaced stitch forced her to undo and redo her work, her hands shaking with pain.

Yet, when she reached for me, her smile never wavered. "It's such a blessing to see my baby so happy," she whispered. "I can leave this world without regret."

Her words cracked something inside me. Before the tears could spill, I rushed out, pretending I needed air.

Outside, my phone buzzed. Alexander's message was cold, detached—just two words: "Wedding postponed."

I sank to the floor, biting my hand to muffle the sob tearing from my chest. Hot tears blurred my vision as my mother's muffled groans of pain seeped through the door.

Wiping my face, I stood. Then I called him.

The private room was alive with laughter, a love song drifting through the doorway. I didn't need to look to know Alexander and Madeline were singing together.

I pushed the door open.

Silence.

Every head turned, their stares sharp, hostile. These weren't strangers—they were Alexander and Madeline's inner circle, the people who had never accepted me.