The sound of the scissors cutting through the veil silenced the room.

Isabella stared at the torn fabric.

Natalia covered her mouth.

Sebastián grabbed my wrist.

—Have you lost your mind?

I looked at his hand.

—Let go.

—First put down the scissors.

—Sebastián.

My voice was quiet enough that he finally released me.

I placed the scissors on the table.

Then I walked toward Isabella.

—The necklace.

She instinctively touched the pearls.

—Valeria, I didn’t know it belonged to your mother.

Natalia immediately interrupted.

—I didn’t tell her.

I looked at the woman I had called my best friend since university.

—That doesn’t make it better.

Her face turned red.

—It was only for the photographs.

—You knew my mother wore that necklace at her own wedding.

She couldn’t answer.

I held out my hand.

—Take it off.

This time Isabella obeyed.

But when she tried to unclasp it, Sebastián stepped between us.

—Enough.

I almost laughed.

—You’re protecting her again?

—I’m preventing you from humiliating her.

I stared at him.

—She’s wearing my wedding dress, my mother’s necklace, and she’s legally married to my fiancé.

I pointed toward myself.

—Exactly which person in this room do you think has been humiliated?

Nobody spoke.

Sebastián lowered his voice.

—We’ll talk at home.

—There is no “home.”

His expression hardened.

I turned to the store manager.

—Cancel the wedding dress order.

Sebastián immediately said:

—Don’t.

The manager looked between us.

I took out my card.

—I’m the customer. Cancel it.

—Valeria—

—And cancel the venue reservation, flowers, photography package and catering under my name.

For the first time, Sebastián looked genuinely alarmed.

—You can’t cancel everything because you’re angry.

—Watch me.

Isabella suddenly began crying.

—This is my fault.

Sebastián immediately turned toward her.

That tiny movement told me everything.

Even now.

Even after all this.

Her tears still mattered first.

I took my necklace and walked out.

Natalia followed me downstairs.

—Valeria, wait!

I kept walking.

She grabbed my arm.

—I was trying to help.

I turned.

—Help whom?

She froze.

—Isabella was devastated.

—So you gave her my wedding.

—It was only pretend.

I looked at her for several seconds.

—Then pretend we were never friends.

Her face collapsed.

I blocked her number before reaching my car.

By that evening, I had canceled everything I personally contracted.

The wedding planner called seven times.

Sebastián’s mother called eleven.

Camila sent seventeen messages.

Lucas wrote an essay explaining why I was “throwing away seven years over one month of paperwork.”

I answered none of them.

Instead, I packed.

Not because Sebastián owned the apartment.

He didn’t.

We had rented it together.

But I had learned something important during those seven years:

Sometimes leaving first is worth more than winning possession of the room.

At nine that night, Sebastián came home.

He threw his keys onto the table.

—What did you cancel?

—Everything.

—The hotel called my mother.

—Then she already knows.

His expression changed.

—You promised we would tell her together.

—That was before you married Isabella together.

He walked toward me.

—Stop saying it like that.

—How would you prefer I say it?

I counted on my fingers.

—You signed a marriage certificate.

—You exchanged rings.

—You took wedding photographs.

—Your legal wife wore my wedding dress.

I lowered my hand.

—Which part should I describe differently?

He had no answer.

Then he noticed my suitcases.

—Where are you going?

—Away.

—For how long?

—Permanently.

His face finally lost that familiar confidence.

—Valeria.

I picked up my handbag.

He blocked the doorway.

—You can’t erase seven years overnight.

—You managed it in one afternoon at the civil registry.

His eyes reddened.

—I don’t love Isabella.

—That’s supposed to make this better?

He went silent.

I stepped closer.

—If you loved her, at least there would be a reason.

My voice trembled for the first time.

—But you’re telling me you destroyed our wedding for a woman you don’t even love because your friends thought fulfilling her teenage fantasy was more important than respecting me.

Sebastián looked away.

That was the moment I knew.

There was nothing left to discuss.

I moved past him.

He didn’t stop me.

Three days later, Isabella posted the wedding photographs.

Apparently nobody had told her that temporary marriages required temporary social media.

One photograph showed Sebastián fastening my mother’s necklace around her neck.

She captioned it:

“Some promises arrive late, but they arrive.”

The post lasted eleven minutes.

Then it disappeared.

But eleven minutes was enough.

Sebastián’s company had recently announced a major partnership with my family’s investment firm.

The agreement had been negotiated primarily because my uncle trusted the man I was going to marry.

By noon, my uncle called.

—Valeria, are you still marrying Sebastián?

—No.

—Are you certain?

—Completely.

He paused.

—Then there’s something you need to know.

The Moore family’s expansion financing hadn’t been finalized.

Our wedding wasn’t legally part of the deal.

But the relationship between our families had been the foundation of trust behind it.

Without that trust, my uncle wanted the entire proposal reviewed.

I didn’t ask him to cancel anything.

I didn’t need revenge.

I simply said:

—Make whatever business decision you would make if Sebastián were a stranger.

The next morning, Moore Industries announced that its financing negotiations had been suspended pending further review.

That was when Sebastián began calling.

Once.

Five times.

Twenty-three times.

Then his mother appeared at my father’s house.

—Valeria, couples make mistakes.

I looked at her.

—Did you know?

She became silent.

That was enough.

—How long?

Her eyes lowered.

—Three weeks.

I felt something inside me turn completely cold.

Everyone had known.

His sister.

His friends.

My best friend.

His mother.

Everyone except the woman who was supposed to become his wife.

—Please forgive him.

—No.

—Isabella is leaving soon.

—Good.

—Sebastián already filed to end the marriage.

I smiled faintly.

—Also good.

She stared at me.

—Then what’s stopping you from continuing with the wedding?

I looked at her in disbelief.

—Self-respect.

She left crying.

A week later, Sebastián finally found me outside my office.

He looked exhausted.

—Valeria.

I stopped.

He held a document.

—It’s done.

The dissolution.

His marriage to Isabella was ending.

He stepped closer.

—I fixed everything.

—No.

He frowned.

—I ended it.

—You ended your marriage.

I looked directly at him.

—You didn’t repair ours.

He swallowed.

—Give me one chance.

For seven years, I had imagined hearing those words after every argument where he chose someone else’s comfort over mine.

Now they meant nothing.

—You told everyone I was your final bride.

I smiled sadly.

—You never understood that I could also be the woman who says no.

I walked past him.

Then my phone rang.

It was the wedding venue.

I almost ignored it, but something made me answer.

—Miss Valeria?

—Yes.

The manager sounded uncomfortable.

—We’re calling regarding your canceled wedding date.

—What about it?

—Someone has requested to reactivate the reservation.

I stopped walking.

—Who?

There was a pause.

Then she answered.

—Mr. Sebastián Moore.

My stomach tightened.

—For what?

The manager hesitated.

—For a wedding.

I turned around.

Sebastián was still standing twenty meters away, watching me.

But he looked just as confused as I felt.

Then the manager added:

—The groom isn’t Mr. Moore.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

—Then whose wedding is it?

Her answer made me completely still.

—The bride is Isabella Reed.

And according to the new reservation…

She lowered her voice.

—She’s marrying Lucas.

Sebastián’s best friend.