The Substitute Bride: When He Chose Her Novel – Gavin had spent ten years pursuing me, claiming I was the woman he wanted to marry. He was devoted—or so I thought. But the night before our wedding, I overheard him speaking to a friend. “You’re really going to marry Vera? What about the other girl you’ve been seeing?” There was a pause. “She’s just a distraction,” Gavin replied. “Vera’s the one I’m meant to marry.” Then he added with unsettling ease, “If she keeps quiet, maybe I’ll keep her around. Vera’s understanding—she won’t mind.” The next day, the girl he spoke of caused a scene at the ceremony.
She stormed up to the stage, clearly distressed. When she threatened to harm herself, Gavin rushed forward and shielded her without hesitation. “Move aside!” he snapped at me. “She needs help. If anything happens to her, I won’t forgive you!” At that moment, something inside me broke. That same night, I booked a flight and left the country. I couldn’t bear to stay. The following day, from the hospital where I was being treated for an injury, I called him. Gavin answered, but his tone was harsh and impatient. “Why can’t you just sign the consent form yourself?” he said.
“I’ve got more important things to deal with.” He continued, “Why would you injure yourself over something like this? I’m exhausted, Vera. Please don’t make this harder.” That had been the twentieth time I called. The previous nineteen? All ignored. My voice trembled as I explained, “It wasn’t an accident. She pushed me.” “The doctor said they need a family member’s signature. You’re already at the hospital—can’t you just come for a minute?” His only response was to hang up.
I sighed and asked the doctor for the form. “I’ll sign it myself.” The doctor hesitated. “Are you sure? Maybe Mr. Locke didn’t understand.” He continued gently, “You know, he once called in the entire hospital staff when you caught a cold. He used to stay by your bedside day and night.” “He told us you were the most important person in his life.” I gave a weak smile. I used to believe that too. After some insistence, the doctor handed me the form.
I signed it. Even as I was being wheeled into surgery, part of me still hoped he would come. Instead, I received a notification from social media—a video from her account. In it, Gavin was gently blowing on a bowl of soup and handing it to her. He tucked a blanket around her shoulders with care. The caption read: “You said three years by your side was my greatest luck. Now I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that love.” Her smile radiated joy. Just days before, she’d been heartbroken over Gavin’s rejection. I remembered her bitter words to me: “I was there for him for three years. He wouldn’t even touch me.
He kept saying, ‘Vera is the one I’ll marry.’ So why did you have to come back? Why couldn’t you just stay gone?” I remembered how Gavin had once reacted to her cruelty. He’d thrown her out of the house, furious she’d insulted me. But now? He was at her side again, comforting her with the same tenderness I once believed was mine.
After the surgery, when I awoke, Gavin finally appeared. He walked straight to my bed and grabbed my hand, not with care, but urgency. “Where’s your wedding ring?” he demanded. “Give it to me. Now.”