Vanished Groom

The wedding is set for two weeks from now. Most of the invitation cards for Frankie Cobb and me have already been sent out. Yesterday, we even went together to pick up the custom wedding dress. He smiled and said I'd definitely be the most beautiful bride once I put it on. But starting this morning, Frankie Cobb has been out of touch. Calls went unanswered, and no one replied to my messages. His company said he didn't show up for work. I went to his apartment—it was locked tight—and asked all his friends, but no one knew where he was. All the wedding preparations are still going on. The wedding planner keeps pressuring us to confirm the schedule. Both sets of parents keep calling non-stop with questions. I forced myself to stay calm and told them he had a last-minute business trip. Night had fallen, and I was sitting alone in the empty living room. Suddenly, a street photography video popped up on my mobile phone screen. For some strange reason, I clicked on it. The video showed the downtown pedestrian street, with the host randomly interviewing couples. When the camera passed a familiar profile, my breath caught. It was Frankie Cobb. He wore the navy blue jacket I bought for him last week, a faint smile on his face, but his eyes looked distant. The host asked him if he was about to get married. He nodded, his clear voice coming through the screen. "Yes, I'm getting married soon." The host then asked if he had any regrets before the wedding. Frankie Cobb was silent for a few seconds, his gaze drifting into the distance. Then, he said the words that sent a chill down my spine. "My biggest regret is not being able to marry the person I most wanted to marry." The video ended right there. I replayed it more than ten times, making sure it was definitely Frankie Cobb, making sure I heard every single word he said. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, aching so badly I could barely breathe. Who is this "person he most wants to marry" that he mentioned? During those three days, I didn't hear a single word about Frankie Cobb. I shoved the wedding dress deep into the closet. I hid the invitation card in the drawer, too scared to look at it again. I didn't even dare answer my parents' calls, afraid I'd break down in tears. On the third night, the doorbell rang suddenly. I hesitated before opening the door. Frankie Cobb stood there at the doorway, completely worn out. His clothes were stained with mud, and his eyes were bloodshot. The moment he saw me, he stepped forward, wanting to hug me. I instinctively stepped back, avoiding his touch. "Ava, I'm back." His voice was hoarse, with a barely concealed hint of panic. "I was kidnapped. These three days felt worse than death." "I barely managed to find a chance to escape." As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing shallow scratches on his arm. "See, they beat me and didn't even let me contact you." I quietly looked at him, saying nothing. His appearance in the street photography video overlapped with his current disheveled state. I don't know which one to believe.