Liam married Hannah to get back at the woman he truly loved. He wanted to prove that her betrayal hadn’t broken him. He’d been with Charlotte for nearly three years, and his love for her had been all-consuming—he’d have given her the world just to see her smile. Liam dreamed of marriage, but Charlotte always brushed him off: “Why rush? I haven’t even finished uni yet, and your business is barely scraping by. No proper car, no place of your own. Living with your sister in that tiny flat? No thanks—I’m not sharing a kitchen with Emily, even if she is my mate.”
Her words stung, but Liam knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. He and Emily were crammed into their parents’ old flat in Manchester, and the family business—handed down after their parents passed—was hanging by a thread. He’d dropped out of university to keep it afloat. They’d sold the countryside cottage together, putting every penny back into the shop. For six months, debts piled up while they juggled studies—him in his final year, Emily in her second. The sale cleared the debts, restocked the shop, and left just enough to breathe. But Charlotte lived for the moment, unwilling to wait. Her parents spoiled her, while Liam, suddenly the head of the family, saw the future differently. He swore he’d turn things around—there’d be a house, a car, everything.
Then disaster struck. Liam waited for Charlotte outside the cinema, just as they’d agreed on the phone. She’d told him not to pick her up—odd, since she hated buses. He scanned the crowd, only for her to pull up in a flashy Range Rover. “Sorry, we’re done. I’m getting married,” she said, shoving a book into his hands before speeding off. Liam stood frozen. How had everything changed in the two days he’d been away?
Emily took one look at him and knew. “You found out?” He nodded. “She’s landed some rich bloke. Wedding’s on the 28th. Asked me to be a bridesmaid—I told her where to stick it. The cow’s been sneaking around behind your back!” She burst into tears, furious for him. “Easy,” Liam hugged her. “Let her have her life. Ours will be better.”
He locked himself in his room all day. Emily knocked: “At least eat—I made pancakes.” By evening, he emerged, eyes blazing. “Get your coat.” “What’s the plan?” “I’m marrying the first woman who says yes.” Emily tried to reason with him: “You can’t do this—you’ll wreck someone else’s life too!” But he was set: “Come or don’t. I’m going.”
The park was busy. One girl laughed at his proposal, another bolted—the third met his gaze and said, “Alright.” “What’s your name, love?” “Hannah,” she replied. Liam dragged her and Emily to a café to celebrate their “engagement.” The table was thick with awkwardness. Emily stayed silent; Liam simmered with revenge. His wedding would be the same day as Charlotte’s.
“Is there a reason you proposed to a stranger?” Hannah asked quietly. “If this is a whim, I’ll walk away—no hard feelings.” “No. You said yes. Tomorrow, we file the papers and visit your parents,” Liam cut in, grinning. “And ditch the formalities—call me Liam.”
For the month before the wedding, they met daily, learning about each other. “Explain why,” Hannah pressed once. “Some secrets stay secret,” he deflected. “Why’d you say yes, then?” “Felt like a princess handed off to the first man she meets. In fairy tales, that ends happily. Wanted to see if it’s true.”
In reality, it was messier. Hannah had loved and lost, her heart and savings both shattered. It taught her to read people—flattery got you nowhere. She wasn’t hunting for “the one,” but she wanted someone sharp and driven. Liam had both. If he’d been with lads instead of his sister, she’d have walked right past.
“What kind of princess? Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella?” Liam mused. “Kiss me and find out,” Hannah teased. But there were no kisses. Liam planned the wedding alone; Hannah just picked from his options. He even bought her dress himself, insisting, “You’ll be the most beautiful one there.”
At the registry office, they bumped into Charlotte and her fiancé. Liam forced a smile. “Congrats,” he pecked her cheek. “Be happy with your tycoon.” “Don’t make a scene,” Charlotte snapped. Her eyes flicked over Hannah—tall, striking, regal. Charlotte suddenly felt small. Jealousy gnawed at her; happiness slipped away like a bad bet.
“It’s fine,” Liam told Hannah stiffly. “You can still back out,” she whispered. “No. We finish this,” he said. But inside, staring into his new wife’s sad eyes, guilt hit him. “I’ll make you happy,” he promised, almost believing it.
Life settled into routine. Emily and Hannah grew close, leaning on each other. Hot-headed Emily learned patience; Hannah, with her knack for numbers, streamlined the business. Within a year, they opened a second shop, then a contracting crew. Profits tripled. Hannah had a way of pitching ideas so Liam thought they were his own. By all accounts, life was good—but his heart ached. There was no fire, none of the chaos he’d had with Charlotte. Just predictability. “It’s the routine,” he told himself. “I don’t love her. That’s all.”
Hannah took things further—they started building homes. Their first project was their own mansion. The more success they had, the more Liam thought of Charlotte: “She couldn’t wait. Imagine seeing my car, my house now!” The thought of “what if…” nagged at him. Hannah saw him fading. She tried to be loved, but hearts don’t obey orders. “Not all fairy tales come true,” she thought bitterly—but she wasn’t giving up. Her name meant grace, and she’d earned it.
Emily noticed too. “You’ll lose more than you’ll gain,” she snapped, catching him scrolling Charlotte’s profile. “Piss off!” he barked. “You’re an idiot! Hannah *loves* you, and you’re still playing games!” Emily shot back. Liam fumed: “Since when do you run my life?” But the pull toward Charlotte grew. He messaged her.
Charlotte whined: her husband had kicked her out, she’d dropped out of uni, had no job, was renting a dingy room in Birmingham. Liam wavered—go or not? Hannah was away visiting her sick aunt in the countryside, and temptation won. He arranged to meet.
Flying to Birmingham, he was giddy, picturing how it’d go. Reality hit like a slap. “Look at you!” Charlotte flung herself at him. The stench of unwashed skin and cheap perfume turned his stomach. Her tacky makeup, too-short skirt—she was a ghost of the girl he’d loved. “People are staring,” he muttered, pushing her off. “Who cares?” She cackled, chugging lager. “Loan me some cash—I’ll make it worth your while,” she winked. Liam looked for an exit. “Work calls,” he lied, standing. “We’ll meet again, yeah?” she whined. “Doubt it,” he said, tossing money on the table.
Driving home, he cursed himself: “Idiot. Emily was right. Why did I go?” But one thought soothed him: “I’ve never even called my wife ‘Hannah.’ She’s my closest person.” It hit him like lightning. He braked, replaying their marriage. Hannah’s face filled his mind—her green eyes, warm smile, the way her fingers tangled in his hair. “I promised her happiness,” he whispered.
U-turning, he raced to her aunt’s house. “A week without you was too long. I couldn’t last two days,” he admitted as Hannah ran out. “Madman,” she laughed through tears. “Hannah, love,” Liam murmured, and their hearts beat in sync, full at last.
