The morning of the wedding dawned with golden sunlight pouring through Ethan's childhood bedroom window. His mother was bustling around the house, humming happily, relatives already filling the yard outside. To everyone else, it was a perfect day—the day Ethan Mwangi was marrying the love of his life.
To Ethan, it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff.
Daniel was his best man. He straightened Ethan's tie, his eyes grim.
"You can still walk away," Daniel said quietly.
Ethan forced a laugh. "Not funny."
"I'm not joking. Ethan, this isn't a wedding—it's a warning."
Ethan met his friend's gaze in the mirror. "She said yes, Daniel. She chose me. That has to mean something."
Daniel shook his head, but didn't argue further.
The church was packed. Aria arrived late, of course—sweeping in like a storm, breathtaking in her white dress, veil tilted slightly as if she'd worn it in rebellion.
Everyone gasped at her beauty, and Ethan's heart clenched. She was radiant, untouchable, every eye fixed on her.
When she reached him at the altar, she winked.
"You clean up nice, poet," she whispered.
His chest tightened. "So do you."
The vows came.
Ethan's voice shook as he spoke his:
"I promise to love you, no matter what storms come. To forgive, to hold on, to never let go."
There were murmurs of admiration from the crowd. But Daniel, standing behind him, looked pained.
Then came Aria's turn.
She smirked before speaking. "I promise to keep life interesting. To never be boring. And…to try, sometimes, not to drive you insane."
Laughter rippled through the guests.
But Ethan heard what others didn't. The absence of certainty. The missing I promise to be faithful.
When the priest pronounced them husband and wife, Aria pulled Ethan into a kiss that was fierce, almost mocking, as if daring him to believe in forever.
And he did. He had to.
The reception was wild—exactly how Aria wanted it. Loud music, too much alcohol, friends dancing like the world was ending. Aria was everywhere—on the dance floor, clinking glasses, laughing too loudly. Ethan followed like a shadow, smiling when expected, but his stomach churned.
At one point, he saw her disappear with two bridesmaids and a tall man in a navy suit. When she returned twenty minutes later, her lipstick was smudged, and she smelled faintly of smoke.
Ethan didn't ask. He couldn't. Not today.
Later, when they finally slipped away to their hotel suite, Aria kicked off her heels and collapsed on the bed, laughing.
"Can you believe it?" she said, holding up her ringed hand. "We actually did it."
Ethan sat beside her, loosening his tie. "Yeah. We did."
Aria rolled over, propping her chin on her hand. "You're scared."
He blinked. "What?"
"You think I don't see it? You're terrified I'll run. That I'll hurt you again."
Ethan's throat tightened. "Will you?"
She smirked, leaning in close. "Probably."
The words should have broken him. Instead, he kissed her, clinging to the illusion of forever.
As Aria drifted off to sleep, Ethan lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The wedding bells were fading in his ears, replaced by the sound of warning bells louder than ever.
But he was already in too deep.
And he had no intention of climbing out.