Chapter 1

Serena's POV:

Fifty couples, one live broadcast, and my fiancé is about to swap me out for his dead brother's wife.

I don't hear it from him. I hear it from a stairwell.

The grooms are downstairs doing their challenges — bridal party games, the usual. All fifty brides are in their separate rooms, waiting to be picked up. I sneak out early because I want Ethan to find me first. I want to see his face light up when he spots me before anyone else.

I duck behind the stairwell door — and that's when I hear them.

"Ethan, man, this isn't right."

Jake's voice. Ethan's best man.

"This is a city-wide event. It's on live TV. You're seriously gonna switch brides in the middle of all this? Serena's gonna be humiliated."

My breath catches.

Then Ethan's voice comes through — low, tired, like he's explained this a hundred times already.

"I don't have a choice. Vivian's been widowed for three years. My parents still treat her like garbage. If I marry her, they'll finally have to accept her."

"As for Serena — she and I have always been more of a platonic thing. She doesn't need a ring or a certificate. She won't care."

My fingers go numb against the wall.

Jake's still pushing back, though. I can hear the hesitation cracking through his voice.

"Dude, have you forgotten what happened when your brother dumped her? She almost jumped off a bridge. You spent three years pulling her out of that. If she finds out the same woman took her man — again? She's gonna lose it."

Ethan cuts him off like it's nothing. "There are fifty couples out there, all in matching outfits. No one can tell who's who. I'll just say I got confused in the crowd."

"Besides — you guys know why I went after her in the first place. It was so Vivian could marry Dylan without any drama. Now Dylan's gone. It's on me to take care of her."

He turns to the other two groomsmen, voice flat and cold.

"Go to room 302. Keep the door shut. Don't let Serena out. Once the vows are done and the certificates are signed on live TV, my parents won't be able to say no."

I stand there behind that door.

I don't cry. I don't scream.

I just laugh — once, quietly — and walk back to my room.

I pull out my phone. The screen's still bright. I scroll through the wedding registry and find the groom paired with Vivian today.

I type out a message:

"Room 302 needs a groom. You in?"

I put the phone down.

"Serena! Come help block the door! Ethan's team already passed the first round!" Nora's grabbing my arm before I can blink.

I don't move.

She tugs harder. "Come on! He's almost at round two — what are we gonna make him do when he gets up here?"

"Don't bother." I pull my arm free.

Nora freezes. "What do you mean?"

I look right at her.

"This wedding might not be happening."

She stares at me, confused.

"What? You two waited months for this. You fought to get a spot. What do you mean it's not happening?"

I don't answer.

Yeah. Fought to get a spot.

Three months ago, Ethan handed me the registration form. A city-sponsored mass wedding. Fifty couples, all signing their marriage certificates live on the local news.

He said he'd stayed up two nights straight to get us in. Said he only planned on getting married once, and he wanted the whole world to see.

I hesitated.

Because at the time, my mom had just been moved into the ICU.

The biggest regret of her life was never having a real wedding ceremony. Grandma died young. They were too poor. She signed a piece of paper at a courthouse and that was it.

She always told me — when it's your turn, I want to watch you walk down that aisle. I want to hand you off to your groom with my own two hands.

I wanted her to see it.

I brought the form to her hospital room. Showed her the fine print: "Due to venue limitations, no family processional will be included."

She said it's okay. Just being alive to see me get married is enough. She didn't need the walk.

But then she turned to the ceremony schedule and went quiet for a long time.

"So I won't even get to see you walk through the door in your dress?"

I didn't make it past the hallway before I broke down crying.

That night, I told Ethan — can we skip the mass wedding? Let's do something small. Just us. Let my mom sit in her wheelchair and hand me off to you.

Ethan held me and said the spot was too hard to get. Don't be selfish.

The mass wedding has cameras, he said. Your mom can watch the livestream from her bed. Same thing.

I said it's not the same.

He said — after I come get you, we'll video-call her together. Same thing.

I didn't push it.

Because when he said all that, his eyes were red. He said he just wanted to give me the biggest wedding he could.

I believed him.

Then my mom got worse. They moved her to the respiratory unit.

On her last lucid day, she held my hand and said, "I won't get to see you in your dress."

I said you will. Livestream, Mom. Just remember to open the link.

She said okay.

But today — he said:

"She doesn't need a ring or a certificate. She won't care."

My mom is lying in that hospital bed, glued to a screen, waiting to watch her daughter get married — and she doesn't even know no one's coming to marry her daughter.

Heavy footsteps echo down the hallway.

Nora peeks out the door, suspicious.

"That's weird — there's only two groomsmen out there. Where's Ethan?"