Jane walked down the aisle, but not in the ivory gown we had spent months perfecting. Instead, she wore a jet-black dress. The shock wasn’t just the color—it was the reason behind it.
It all started with a joyous phone call.
“Mom! He proposed!” Jane’s voice was filled with excitement.
Jack had been part of her life for five years, and I believed they were truly happy. From that moment, wedding planning took over. The first thing we chose was the dress—custom-made by my best friend, Helen, a gifted seamstress.
For months, Helen meticulously crafted Jane’s dream gown—an exquisite ivory satin creation with delicate lace and a flowing train. I saw it nearly finished just days before the wedding, perfect in every way.
Then came the night before the big day. Jack seemed distant, distracted.
“You okay?” I asked when Jane stepped away.
Jack forced a smile. “Yeah. Just nervous, you know?”
It made sense, but something felt… off.
The next morning, the house buzzed with excitement. Makeup artists worked, bridesmaids flitted about, and Jane glowed with anticipation. Then Helen arrived, carrying the final piece—Jane’s gown.
She placed the box down with a proud smile. I lifted the lid—and my stomach dropped.
The dress inside wasn’t ivory. It was black.
“Helen… what is this?” My voice shook.
Helen remained calm. “Trust me.”
I turned to Jane, expecting shock. Instead, she gazed at her reflection with eerie calm.
“Jane?” My voice cracked.
She met my eyes. “I need to do this, Mom.”
The music started. Jane stood in her black gown, stepping into the aisle.
Guests gasped. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Jack, at the altar, turned pale. His hands fell to his sides.
And then I understood.
Years ago, Jane and I had watched a film where a betrayed bride walked down the aisle in black—a symbol of mourning, not love.
Jane had remembered.
The officiant hesitated. “W-We are gathered here today—”
Jack let out a nervous chuckle. “Babe, what is this? What’s with the dress?”
Jane didn’t answer.
The officiant cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?”
Jane nodded. “Yes. Let’s continue.”
Jack’s vows wavered. “Jane, you’re my best friend, my soulmate—”
Then it was Jane’s turn. She let go of his hands. The air thickened.
“With this dress, I bury all my hopes for this wedding—for us—because real love doesn’t betray you days before the ceremony.”
A stunned silence.
Jack’s face turned ghostly pale. “Jane—wait—”
“I trusted you,” she continued, voice unwavering. “I loved you. And then I found out the truth.”
Jack trembled. “It’s not what you think—”
Jane’s expression didn’t change. “It’s exactly what I think.”
Jack dropped to his knees. “Please, Jane. I love you!”
She didn’t move. His hands reached for hers, but she stepped back.
Tears welled in his eyes. “Just let me explain!”
Jane lifted her bouquet—and let it fall. The flowers landed at Jack’s feet. A silent goodbye.
Without a word, she turned and walked back down the aisle.
I wanted to ask what had happened, to take away her pain. But before I could, she reached for my hand. I squeezed it tight. She squeezed back.
Outside, as the doors closed behind us, she whispered, “I found out three days ago. The messages. The late-night calls. The lies.”
I swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She gave a sad smile. “Because I knew everyone would say, ‘It’s just cold feet. He loves you.’ But love doesn’t betray you.”
Tears blurred my vision. “No, it doesn’t.”
She took a deep breath. “One day, I’ll wear white. For the right man.”
And I knew she would.
