I was two days from marrying Charles, and my perfect wedding felt like a dream I didn’t belong in. The garden was draped in peonies, a cello played softly, and my gown shimmered with tiny crystals. Charles was ideal—steady, polished, with a ring my parents gushed over—but he wasn’t Jack, the wild-hearted man who’d stolen my soul. Jack and I met on a sunny beach after college. I tripped over a fishing line, and he, pulling a canoe, fell with me into the waves. Our laughter started a love that burned bright.
We spent three summers in a small apartment, eating late-night pizza and dancing under dim lights. Then Jack went swimming with friends. A fierce current swept him away. His friends returned; he didn’t. Searchers found only a shred of his board. I grieved, lost in memories, until life pulled me forward. I met Charles, who offered stability, and my family urged me to settle down. But as the wedding approached, I felt like I was sinking, smiling through planning while my heart ached.
The morning before the rehearsal, Charles left to check the venue, and I stood by the window when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was a caterer, I opened it—and froze. Jack stood there, older, with shorter hair and a rugged jaw, but those same warm eyes. “You’re marrying him?” he asked, voice breaking. “You’re dead,” I said, stepping outside, trembling. He explained a current knocked him unconscious, and fishermen saved him, but he lost his memory. A photo of me in a wedding dress restored it. “Do you still love me?” he asked.
He begged me to meet him by the beach rocks that night, vowing to leave if I didn’t come. That evening, Charles saw Jack on our camera. “You’re mine,” he said coldly. I ran to the rocks, but Jack wasn’t there. I waited, calling his name, until dawn. At the wedding, I approached Charles, empty, when Jack shouted my name. “You didn’t come,” I said, tears falling. “Charles had me arrested,” he said. Charles confessed, pushing for the vows. I said, “I never agreed.”
I told Jack, “I love you, but I can’t trust you’ll stay.” When Charles grabbed me, I pulled away. “I’m not yours,” I said. Holding Jack’s hand, I left the altar, walking past stunned guests into a new beginning. My heart chose love, and I felt alive again.
