We were just a week away from the wedding I had waited two long years for. No more delays, no more excuses—this time it was real. But that night, everything fell apart.
I found Wade in the garage, sobbing in a way I’d never seen before. His whole body shook as he clutched something close to his chest.
It was a small red jacket. One I didn’t recognize.
When I asked what it was, his voice cracked.
“It’s his,” he said. And just like that… everything changed.
I’m not ungrateful. I swear I’m not.
Wade proposed to me on a chilly October morning, two years ago. His hands trembled like leaves in the wind. He opened a tiny velvet box with a ring inside that sparkled like a promise.
“Forever, Em. I want forever with you,” he said.
I didn’t even hesitate. I said yes.
But now, lying awake at night, I sometimes wonder… Did he ever really mean it?
Two years passed. Two years of planning and hoping. But every time we got close, something got in the way. The dates kept getting pushed. The calendar looked like a battlefield—so many crossed-out plans.
“Money’s tight, babe,” Wade would say as he kissed my forehead.
Or, “Forecast says rain. We can’t risk it, not for our big day.”
Then it was Aunt Ruth’s hip. His grandma’s dizzy spells. The flu. Trouble with the farm.
Even once, he just said, “It’s not a perfect date.”
Excuses fell around us like leaves in a storm. Always something. Always some reason.
But this time? This time was supposed to be different.
We had the date locked in. The church was booked. The invitations were out. Even Wade’s father, Dale—the toughest man I’ve ever met—pulled him aside and said:
“Son, you stallin’ long enough. Don’t let her slip through your fingers.”
That morning, Wade flipped pancakes and hummed as he moved around the kitchen. He kissed my cheek and whispered:
“Almost there, Em.”
But all day, he acted like a shadow. Distant. Tense. Like something was chewing at him from the inside.
That night, I woke up to a strange sound. Not loud—but soft, broken.
Like breath catching in the dark.
I pulled on Wade’s old flannel shirt—it smelled like cedar and soap—and walked down the hall barefoot. The light under the garage door was on.
My hand paused on the knob. I heard it: crying.
Not just sniffling. Not even the quiet kind you hide. This was the kind that comes from deep inside. Raw and heartbreaking.
I opened the door.
There he was.
Wade, curled up on the cold garage floor like a lost child. His arms were wrapped around something. His body rocked with every sob.
“Wade?” I whispered.
No answer. Just pain.
Then I saw it—the small red jacket. Worn, faded, the sleeves frayed like they’d been chewed.
“What is that?”
He looked up, eyes red, cheeks blotchy.
“It’s his,” he whispered. “It’s Adam’s.”
We sat on the cold concrete floor. Neither of us moved.
Finally, he spoke, voice rough like gravel.
“He was seven.”
I blinked. “Who?”
“Adam. My little brother.”
I froze. I’d never even heard of him.
“You never told me you had a brother.”
Wade stared at the ground. “That’s because… I didn’t.”
I frowned. “Wait, what?”
A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him.
“It’s taboo. After the accident, no one talked about him again. Not even his name. It was like… he never existed.”
He stared at nothing as he told the story.
“We were kids. Playing by the river. Just us two. Skipping rocks. Daring each other.”
His voice dropped.
“I told him to cross the old log bridge. Told him it was fine. I was supposed to hold his hand. But I let go.”
He repeated it, quieter this time.
“I let go.”
The silence between us was heavy—full of things I couldn’t fix.
“I thought I buried it all,” he continued. “But today, I found the jacket. It was in one of Dad’s old boxes. I wasn’t looking for it. I didn’t even remember it. But the second I saw it…”
His voice broke again. He wiped his face like a little boy trying to hide his tears.
“We made a promise. Me and Adam. Said we’d be best men at each other’s weddings.”
He turned to me, tears in his eyes.
“That’s why I kept postponing. Getting married felt like I was leaving him behind.”
I reached for his hand.
“Come to bed,” I whispered. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
The next morning, he sat at the kitchen table, stirring coffee he didn’t drink. The clinking spoon was the only sound in the room.
Then he whispered:
“I think we should move the wedding.”
My fork slipped from my hand.
“Again?” My voice was sharper than I meant.
He didn’t even flinch.
“The dreams… they’re back. I just need more time.”
I swallowed my anger. Instead, I stood up, kissed his forehead, and said:
“I understand.” But inside, something in me cracked.
That afternoon, I drove out to his parents’ farm. I thought maybe I could help—maybe if I told them about Adam, it would lift the weight from Wade.
Bonnie opened the door, sweet tea in hand and a warm smile on her face.
“We’ll postpone the wedding,” I said gently. “Wade’s not ready… The memories of his brother are still too much.”
She blinked.
“His what?”
“His little brother. Adam.”
Her smile dropped. She stepped back.
“Emily… Wade never had a brother.”
I could barely drive home. My hands shook the whole way. My thoughts spiraled. No brother? No Adam? No accident?
Then… what had I witnessed?
When I walked into the house, I didn’t yell. I just stood there.
He was on the couch, staring at the TV screensaver.
I asked quietly: “No brother?”
He turned slowly. His eyes were full of fear.
“Emily…”
“It was all a lie?” I said, voice shaking.
“The sobbing. The story. That jacket. What kind of person does that?”
He dropped his head.
“I panicked. I didn’t know how to say I wasn’t ready. Everyone kept asking. You kept believing in me.”
I stepped back.
“Two years, Wade. I gave you space. Time. Grace. And you gave me a lie.”
He buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. Let’s marry. I’m ready now. I promise.”
I nodded, silently.
But I already knew what I was going to do.
The church was full. The air smelled like lilies and old wood.
Wade stood at the altar in his best suit. His hands trembled, eyes scanning the aisle.
The music never started.
The guests shifted. Whispers. Tension.
Then I stepped out—not in a wedding dress—but in my favorite blue dress. The one with the pearl buttons.
Gasps echoed through the church.
Bonnie’s mouth fell open.
Wade’s eyes found mine. A flicker of hope. A smile trying to grow.
But I didn’t smile back.
I walked to him, heels echoing in the silence.
Then I stopped and said clearly:
“There won’t be a wedding today.”
His face crumbled.
“I needed to believe you wanted this as much as I did,” I said. “But all you’ve shown me is doubt.”
He reached out.
“Emily, please—”
I took a step back.
“I gave you years. I gave you grace. Now I give you goodbye.”
I turned and walked away. The double doors opened.
The sun hit my face.
And with every step I took, my heels clicked like freedom.
Like I had finally chosen myself.