The first thing Vanessa did after seeing our wedding cake was laugh.
Not the polite little laugh someone gives when they are surprised. It was loud, sharp, and deliberate enough that the couple at the next table stopped talking and looked over.
I was still holding Ethan's hand beneath the table when Vanessa pointed toward the tower of glazed donuts between us.
“Is that really the wedding cake?”
I looked at the tower again, even though I already knew exactly what she meant. Sixteen glazed donuts were stacked in careful circles on a white ceramic stand. Two tiny sugar flowers sat at the top.
Ethan had picked them up that morning from the bakery across from the courthouse.
Eighteen dollars.
I thought they looked beautiful.
More importantly, they reminded me of our first date, when Ethan had bought me a coffee and a donut because neither of us had enough money for anything more expensive.
“Yes,” I said.
Vanessa leaned back in her chair, pressing one manicured hand against her mouth as if she were trying to stop herself from laughing again.
“Oh, Leah.”
There was something about the way she said my name that made my stomach tighten.
She had been doing that for years.
Whenever I told her Ethan had taken another weekend shift, she would sigh.
Whenever I mentioned that we were saving for an apartment, she would remind me that Julian Prescott owned three properties.
Whenever Ethan drove his old sedan to family gatherings, Vanessa would arrive in Mark's new SUV and make some casual comment about reliability.
She never directly ordered me to leave Ethan.
She didn't have to.
She had become an expert at making the life I had chosen sound like a punishment.
Across the table, Mark kept his eyes on his coffee.
He had barely said anything since we arrived.
That was unusual because Mark usually followed Vanessa's lead. If she teased someone, he laughed. If she changed the subject, he moved with her. If she praised Julian, Mark was usually the first person to mention one of his accomplishments.
Today, though, he looked tired.
Not bored.
Not embarrassed.
Tired.
I noticed it because I had known Mark for almost as long as I had known Vanessa.
“What?” Vanessa asked when she caught me looking at her.
“Nothing.”
She smiled.
“You're actually happy with this?”
I glanced at Ethan.
He was watching me, not her.
There was a small crease beside his left eye, the one that appeared whenever he was trying not to smile.
“I'm very happy,” I said.
Vanessa gave a little shrug.
“Well, I suppose that's what marrying for love looks like.”
Ethan reached for my hand.
His fingers closed around mine beneath the table.
He didn't argue.
That was one of the things I loved about him.
He knew the difference between defending himself and feeding someone else's need for an argument.
Vanessa, however, seemed disappointed by his silence.
She leaned forward.
“You could have bought Leah a proper cake.”
“This is a proper cake,” Ethan said calmly.
She looked at him.
Then at the donuts.
Then back at him.
“It cost eighteen dollars.”
“I know.”
That answer seemed to amuse her even more.
She laughed again.
I felt heat rising into my face.
“Vanessa,” I said quietly.
She raised both hands.
“I'm only saying.”
“No. You're not.”
The diner seemed suddenly smaller.
Outside the window, traffic moved through the afternoon sunlight. Inside, forks scraped against plates and the coffee machine hissed behind the counter.
Our wedding had been simple by choice.
We had gone to the courthouse that morning with two witnesses, signed the papers, exchanged rings, and walked out married.
No ballroom.
No rented mansion.
No string quartet.
No photographer charging thousands of dollars to capture every angle of the ceremony.
Just Ethan, me, two witnesses, and the strange, wonderful feeling that after three years of waiting, we had finally made it official.
The diner afterward had been my idea.
It was where Ethan and I had met.
He had been sitting alone at the counter when I accidentally knocked over my coffee.
He had handed me a stack of napkins before I even asked.
Then he had laughed when I apologized three times.
We talked for nearly two hours that day.
The bill had been twenty-three dollars.
I still had the receipt tucked inside an old book at home.
So when Ethan suggested donuts instead of a traditional cake, I loved the idea immediately.
Vanessa knew all of that.
She simply didn't think it mattered.
She picked up her glass of water.
“If you had listened to me three years ago, Leah, you'd be having a very different wedding today.”
Ethan's hand tightened around mine.
I already knew what was coming.
“Don't,” I said.
Vanessa tilted her head.
“What?”
“Don't bring Julian into this.”
She smiled.
“I didn't even say his name.”
“You didn't have to.”
Mark finally looked up.
“Vanessa.”
She ignored him.
“I'm just saying that Leah had options.”
I stared at her.
“No. You had an option for me.”
Her smile faded slightly.
That was the first time all afternoon that she looked genuinely annoyed.
Click here to continue reading: PART 2: For Three Years She Had Compared Ethan With Another Man, But She Still Didn’t Understand Why I Chose Him
My Sister Turned Our Small Wedding Into a Joke, Until My Husband Quietly Reached Inside His Jacket
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