Wherever You Go, I Won't

It's our 17th wedding ceremony, and we just make it to the vows. Right on cue, Charlie Shaw's assistant crashes the ceremony. Vivian Wilson drops to her knees in the middle of the aisle, sobbing hysterically. "Please, everyone, you have to help me find my younger brother! His name is Zachary Wilson. He went missing when he was six. He's the only family I have left!" Charlie doesn't even try to stop her. Instead, his fingers clamp down on my wrist like a vice, as if he expects me to fly off the handle. "Don't make a scene," he whispers. "Look at the press coverage we have today. I'll explain everything later." Explain what, exactly? Why did he promise me she wouldn't show up this time, only to break his word all over again? I've listened to the exact conversation 16 times before, and the fight drains out of me completely. I look up, catch the officiant's eye, and signal for him to hand the microphone to Vivian. "It's fine. Give her the microphone," I say. "It's a huge turnout. We shouldn't let the publicity go to waste." Charlie stares at me in surprise. He has no idea that I'm handing the stage over to Vivian permanently. And as for Charlie himself? I'm completely done with him, too. Chapter 1 Vivian Tatum dissolved into a fit of hysterical sobbing, her tears smudging the oversized black-and-white portrait of a young boy she held against her chest. She was practically turning our wedding into a funeral, and the newly arrived guests were unsure of how to react to the spectacle. "Is this part of the reception entertainment?" someone whispered. "Are you new here? She has done this plenty of times before. The second the vows start, she takes over the microphone. It's as if the wedding were some kind of primetime reality show for missing persons." "I feel terrible for the bride. Who could endure having the most important day of their life ruined 17 times?" "She probably has skeletons in her closet. The groom must have some serious dirt on her." Charlie Shaw swept a cold, piercing glare over the crowd, instantly silencing the whispers. He signaled his security guards to clear the room, leaving the venue empty except for the press and Vivian. Then, he walked over and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Elena, you did wonderfully earlier. I was worried you would be angry, but it looks like I fretted over nothing." I subtly turned my head away to avoid his kiss. "I'm not mad. But now that the performance is over, can I go home?" "What performance?" His brows furrowed. "This is our wedding. I know you're upset because I didn't give you a heads-up, but three major network executives showed up today. This is a massive opportunity to get Vivian's brother on the national news. "My cousin went missing when I was a kid. I know the agony of losing a family member, so I have to help her. If you leave now, it'll break Vivian's heart. We need to stand here and show her that we care." But he was the one who cared about Vivian, not me. A wave of dizziness from low blood sugar washed over me, making my body sway. It was only after the reporters finally left that Vivian ran over, her eyes red and swollen. "I'm so sorry, Elena," she apologized. "Please don't take it out on Mr. Shaw. I was the one who shamelessly begged him to let me do this." Charlie wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Elena's a saint. She'd never get angry over something like this." It wasn't that I lacked a temper. In the beginning, Vivian had hijacked the press conference for the launch of my new product line to broadcast her search, and I had stayed silent. Later, I spent weeks pulling every string I had to get her a slot on a dedicated missing-persons television show, but she flatly refused to go. Instead, she fixated on my wedding day over and over again. Whenever I tried to express my frustration, Charlie always dismissed it without a second thought. "Vivian has debilitating social anxiety," he would say. "She'd freeze up on a real TV set." Freeze up? Yet, she seemed entirely unfazed, even after crashing my wedding ceremony 17 times in a row. "Charlie," I said, quietly cutting him off. "I'm exhausted." He offered a brief hum of acknowledgment. "You've been up since 4:00 am doing your makeup and dealing with all this chaos. It makes sense that you're tired. I told you not to be so strict on yourself with the diet. Now, even your lips are completely pale. Let's head back." So he had noticed. I had spent three grueling weeks starving myself for this wedding, waking up before dawn just to make sure I looked flawless for the cameras. And what did he do? During our first look earlier, Charlie carried me to the car and slipped on my heels with the utmost reverence. He did everything he could to assure me that the ceremony would go off without a hitch. He even invited the city's most prestigious media outlets and stationed security guards throughout the entire hotel. To keep Vivian out of the way, he even sent her on a business trip three days ago. In fact, the screenshot of her flight itinerary was still saved on my phone. Yet, he still lied to me, as he had been from the very start. The moment we stepped through the front door, I realized the skin on my heels had fused to the lining of my heels. Pulling them off left my feet covered in blood. "Elena, don't you feel pain?" Charlie asked, his voice laced with gentle reproach as he cradled my ankle and applied a Band-Aid to the wound. "I do. But when you endure it long enough, the pain eventually numbs." He froze, a strange, unreadable emotion flickering in his eyes. "If the heels didn't fit, why didn't you say anything? Do you really care about this ceremony that much?" "Of course I do." I closed my eyes, letting the memories replay in my mind. Mom had tried to walk down the aisle three times in her life. Each time, she chose the wrong man, and each time, she ended up abandoned at the altar. The first was Dad, who ran off with the maid of honor, leaving Mom to become the laughingstock of our small town. The second time, her fiance defrauded her of her money, and the only person who showed up at the church was a police officer. The third time, halfway through the vows, the groom suffered a massive heart attack and dropped dead on the spot. After that, the neighbors whispered that she was a black widow. Later, Mom developed a heart condition and passed away when I was 15. On her deathbed, she had left me with only one piece of advice. "Elena, you must keep your eyes wide open. Find a good man who treats you right. Don't end up like me." After meeting Charlie, I genuinely believed that I would finally get my fairytale ending. Even when the previous ceremonies were disrupted, I convinced myself time and again that we would eventually finish our vows. But I was wrong. He hadn't cheated on me, he hadn't stolen my money, and he hadn't died. He simply took my wedding and turned it into a search party for Vivian. "Charlie, I'm 32 this year. I can't keep going through this." Over the course of three years, we had gone through the same theatrics 17 times. He made me wait from the age of 29 to 32, turning me into the subject of everyone's jokes for three long years. "Weddings are always a hassle," Charlie said, loosening his tie as he missed my point entirely. "If it weren't for your obsession with romantic gestures, I would've preferred to just sign the papers at city hall and call it a day. "A wedding is just a formality anyway. I had a planner look at the dates. Next Thursday is still open. This time, we'll absolutely finish the ceremony." I remained silent for nearly a minute. "Charlie, the truth is—" But before I could finish speaking, his phone rang. "Vivian? You've been crying all day, and your blood sugar crashed? Stay right there. I'm coming to get you!" Without even pausing to change out of his clothes, he bolted out the front door. The truth was, I wanted to tell him that earlier that day, my childhood best friend had also proposed to me. But the exhaustion from my plummeting blood sugar finally overwhelmed me. My vision blurred as I collapsed weakly onto the bed, and my phone lit up. The message my friend sent hours ago was still sitting in the chat. "Elena, if you're ever ready to turn back, I'll be here to marry you." Hanging onto the very last shred of my consciousness, I typed out a reply. "Okay." Chapter 2 "Elena, wake up!" Charlie shook me awake. Excitement flared in his eyes, and a thin layer of sweat glistened across his forehead. "I've got some great news." My voice was barely a whisper as I asked, "What is it?" "The video of Vivian's speech from yesterday went viral. Her DMs are blowing up with people offering leads," he said. His frantic movements made my head spin. Because I hadn't eaten a single bite all day, a sharp, burning pain tore through my empty stomach. "Why do you look so pale?" He frowned. "No more dieting from now on. I don't care if you gain weight. Come on, let's get some food." He drove me to a restaurant 12 miles from our house. Once inside, he confidently ordered the house specials without even looking at the menu. "Vivian's brother would be 14 by now," he remarked, his tone casual. "There's a good chance that a kind family adopted him and put him through school, which is why she hangs out around here so often. She's just hoping to catch a lucky break. "The middle school across the street gets out right about now. Help me keep an eye out, okay? See if any of the kids look like Zachary." Just then, a massive crowd of students flooded out through the school gates across the street. My hand froze around my fork. He hadn't brought me here because he noticed how much weight I had lost. Instead, he simply refused to miss a single opportunity to hunt for Vivian's brother. When Charlie stepped away to use the restroom, he left his phone on the table. Driven by a sudden, irrational impulse, I picked it up and tapped on Vivian's Instagram profile. She had blocked me for three years, yet every single one of her posts remained visible to Charlie. Over the past three years, they traveled to every corner of the world to hunt for a person who didn't even exist. Her most recent post was geotagged in Norwell. Under the glow of a streetlamp, she'd captured a photo of her feet stepping directly on Charlie's shadow. "Thanks for spending the night searching with me. Show up already, Zachary! Charlie is running himself ragged looking for you." All of a sudden, my heart seized. On that exact night, our Calico cat, Callie, whom we'd raised together for seven years, had gone missing. I had spent an hour searching for her in a downpour before calling him. At the time, he told me that he was out of town on business in Norwell. "Why is it so loud over there? Where are you?" he had asked. My voice had shaken as I replied, "Callie is missing, and I'm out in the storm looking for her. Charlie, think about where she could've gone. She's always around you—" "How should I know where she is?" he had snapped, his tone dripping with irritation. "If the cat's gone, we can just buy another one. Look, I'm in the middle of a meeting, so stop making a mountain out of a molehill." His business trip had been a lie, but he sure was committed to finding Vivian's brother. Later, when the storm subsided, I found Callie's lifeless body in the apartment complex. Charlie had left the house in such a rush that he forgot to lock the window, and Callie fell to her death. When he returned, he offered to buy me an identical cat, but I refused. Callie was a stray we'd rescued together, and she could never be replaced. Suddenly, a violent brawl erupted at the table next to ours, throwing the entire restaurant into utter chaos. A shattered wine bottle came flying straight toward us. Before I could duck, a jagged piece of glass sliced a deep, ugly gash across my arm. "Elena!" Charlie lunged across the table to shield my head, and then he guided me toward the exit. "Let's get you to the hospital." Just then, his phone's ringtone blared. Vivian's name flashed across the screen, an unwelcome sight. "Mr. Shaw, I just saw a boy who looks exactly like my brother. He just hopped onto a city bus, and I can't keep up with it. What do I do?" "Stay right there. I'm on my way!" he blurted. When he realized that I was right next to him, a conflicted expression washed over his face. "Elena, Vivian has an emergency on her hands..." I clamped my hand tightly over the gash, but blood still seeped rapidly through my fingers. "I can handle this myself. Go take care of it." A fleeting moment of hesitation crossed his eyes. "Okay. Just grab a taxi to the hospital. I promise I'll be there to pick you up by 3:00 pm." Within seconds, his back disappeared down the street. I clutched my arm tighter. "Charlie, if you keep your word and actually show up by 3:00 pm, I'll finally tell you the truth." At that moment, my phone screen displayed the evidence my private investigator had just sent over. "It's confirmed. Vivian doesn't even have a brother. The kid in the photograph is just a composite image made from stock photos." Chapter 3 I went to the hospital alone to have the wound cleaned and stitched. By 2:50 pm, Charlie still hadn't shown up. Instead, I happened to catch Vivian's brand-new Instagram post. For once, she hadn't blocked me from viewing it. "You looked so cool forcing that city bus to pull over for me, even if it turned out to be another false alarm." In the photo, she was leaning against Charlie's arm, flashing a sweet, radiant smile. The bench in the hospital corridor felt cold and stiff. I lightly massaged my numbing legs, but a sudden, sharp movement tore at the stitches in my arm, and the pain shot through me. He wasn't coming. Just as I resolved to push myself up and walk away, I collided headfirst into a warm, broad chest. Charlie looked down at me, his shirt drenched in sweat and his face a mask of confusion. "Where are you going?" I stared blankly at him, my breath hitching. "Did they fix your arm?" he asked. "Yeah." My eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. It read 3:08 pm. "You're eight minutes late," I said. "It's only eight minutes, Elena." He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit. Alas, my deadline for telling him the truth was 3:00 pm. His sudden tug pulled at the stitches, forcing me to rip my hand back as a flash of pain shot up my arm. Blood seeped through the gauze, staining it crimson. "Let's move," he said, frowning as he recaptured my wrist. "Vivian twisted her ankle while she was chasing down that bus. I need to drop you off at the house first so I can rush back over to help her ice it." Those words felt like a bucket of ice water pouring down my head. When Charlie was 22, a tiny scratch on my hand would make him lose sleep all night out of sheer worry. Now, at 32 years old, he was carelessly tearing open my stitches just to hurry back to accompany another woman. A sudden laugh escaped my lips, and I pulled my hand out of his grip. "Charlie, let's just call it quits." Confusion and shock flooded his eyes. The next second, he frantically pulled a phone out of his pocket that was still in the middle of an active call. "Vivian, don't cry…" he coaxed, his tone frantic. "No, it's not your fault. She's just joking." Only then did I realize that he was on a call with Vivian. "Vivian heard everything you said earlier," he said. My voice sounded raspy as I asked, "Why are you on the phone with her while you're with me?" "Because she was worried about me!" Disappointment hardened his eyes. "Do you have any idea how fast I drove to get here? I almost crashed the car! Your little break-up joke absolutely terrified her. Even with a messed-up ankle, she's insisting on dragging herself over here to apologize to you!" "What if I'm not joking?" I looked him dead in the eye. "I'm sick of you disappearing to look for her brother every time I need you. "I'm sick of sacrificing the milestones of my life for her sake, and I'm sick of playing the clown for everyone else's amusement. If she never finds her brother, are we just supposed to never get married—" His palm struck my cheek with a loud smack. The force wasn't devastating, but it instantly silenced the entire hallway. Charlie froze, raising a hand to touch my face before curling his fingers into a tight fist. "Do you have any idea how bad you make Vivian feel when you say things like that?" My fingernails dug deep into my palms. Without a moment's hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped him right back across the face. "What about how I felt when the two of you ruined my dream wedding 17 times? Do you know what it feels like to have my friends and coworkers mock me for being spineless? To have them think I must have a skeleton in my closet just because I put up with this garbage? "Are you actually trying to help her find her brother, or do you just love the high of having her depend on you?" I screamed, my voice cracking as passersby turned to stare and whisper. Charlie stared at me in silence, one hand cradling his reddening cheek. A thoughtful look flickered in his eyes before he chose to address only my second point. "You need a new circle of friends and a new job," he replied flatly. "People who lack empathy aren't worth keeping around." Empathy? I waited from age 22 to 32 without ever getting a proper wedding. If anyone deserved empathy, it was me. … Neither of us spoke a single word when we arrived home. Charlie dragged a blanket out to the living room couch. Meanwhile, I lay in the bedroom and stared at the ceiling, my breathing so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Recalling the scene at the hospital, I laughed at my own reaction. I had already decided to leave him, so why did I even waste my breath on that speech? My laughter gradually dissolved into tears. The front door opened and closed throughout the evening. Every now and then, I could hear Charlie comforting Vivian over the phone. Other times, I caught him sighing heavily. After a long while, he finally walked into the bedroom and wiped the tears from my face. "I'm sorry, Elena. I shouldn't have lost my temper and hit you. I talked to Vivian, and everything is cleared up now. I didn't realize that the gossip was getting to you so badly. "I already had a team of people scrub the nasty comments about you online, and I personally called your coworkers and friends to smooth things over. You don't have to worry about a thing for the wedding in several days." Chapter 4 I coldly pushed Charlie's hand away. "There's no point. We aren't having a wedding." Charlie's expression darkened. "I already apologized. Stop throwing a tantrum—" "Charlie, the person I'm marrying is—" All of a sudden, his phone rang. He answered it, and his entire posture stiffened with anxiety. "Someone called in a lead on Vivian's brother," he said, his voice tense. "They want to meet in person. Vivian is too naive to go alone, and I don't trust her to handle this by herself. Stay home and stop talking about breaking up. You're just making a fool of yourself." My breaking up with him was a joke to him, yet Vivian hijacking my wedding 17 times was perfectly reasonable. I hadn't expected Charlie to vanish for three days. When he finally returned, his face was gaunt, and exhaustion ringed his eyes. "It was a scam," he muttered. "If I hadn't stepped in and exposed the guy, Vivian would've lost her entire fortune. The poor thing cried for three days straight until she hyperventilated, asking me why people are so cruel. I've been taking care of her the whole time and haven't slept a full night." He sighed heavily. "I wish she were more independent like you. Without me, she honestly can't survive." I offered a quiet hum as I pulled the zipper shut on my suitcase. "She really does depend on you." He walked over unexpectedly and wrapped his arms around me from behind. "What about you?" he asked, his voice thick and raspy. "I… used to be." It started when I was 22 and ended when I was 32. It began the day he jumped in to protect me, beating up a creep who was groping me on a city bus. Then, it ended when he decided to protect Vivian, over and over, at my expense. It began when he risked his life diving into a raging river to save Callie when she was just a stray, and it ended when he lied to me for Vivian's sake, leaving me to find my cat's lifeless body. He started by giving me hope, only to leave me broken every single time. I never doubted that he was fundamentally a good person, and I truly believed he had once loved me. So, for this final day, I wouldn't depend on him anymore. "You smell like smoke," I said quietly. "Go take a shower." Embarrassed, Charlie let his hands loosen. "Sure. Tomorrow is our wedding day. I'll make sure I look presentable. I talked to Vivian, and she promised she won't show up this time." I didn't respond. The steady rush of running water soon echoed from the bathroom. Dragging my suitcase to the entryway, I hung my key on the hook by the front door, mirroring the way he used to do it. The property settlement agreement and every piece of jewelry he ever bought me stayed behind. "Charlie," I whispered. "I'm leaving." No one answered. In the next second, a piercing ringtone shattered the quiet from inside the bathroom. Even with the glass door muffling his voice, I could hear him erupt into a frantic, chaotic roar. "Are you out of your mind? Stay right there, and wait for me!" Charlie bolted out of the bathroom and threw on a change of clothes in a rush before offering a panicked explanation. "Vivian's such a fool. Someone lied to her, saying that her brother was up in Branford, and she drove up there without telling anyone. I'm going to bring her back. I'll definitely be back before tomorrow morning." I froze. Branford? I just scrolled past a news alert about that area. The terrain was notoriously dangerous, and there was an active thunderstorm. A landslide could easily bury the town. I lunged forward and seized his wrist. "Charlie, can you not leave?" He knitted his brows together. "Why not?" "Because…" I opened my mouth, the words catching in my throat. "Because you just promised me that the wedding would go off without a hitch. You can't be late this time." He stared at me for a long moment before brushing my hand away. "Is a stupid wedding more important to you than a human life? Would you honestly prefer to see Vivian human trafficked into some backwoods town? When did you become so cruel, Elena?" He left, and the house fell silent. Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, picked up my suitcase, and gently closed the door behind me. I did everything I could. I was getting married to someone else now. Charlie, this was where our story ended.