I Married His Better Instead

I spent five years chasing Beck King, and he had finally agreed to marry me.

But on our very last anniversary before the wedding, he showed up an hour late, holding a marriage certificate with Claire.

"Iris, Claire has severe schizophrenia," he said, his voice entirely too calm, too rational. "Just bear with her for a little while."

I didn't say a word. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a velvet box, and opened it. Inside was a brilliant blue sapphire necklace.

"Our wedding is still on, Iris. Nothing changes. I bought this for you. I know how much you wanted it."