The hall was all decked out in red and white, you know, with those big glass chandeliers hanging everywhere and candles flickering all over the place. Guests were holding their breath, just staring in awe. Seraphina Vale waited in the little room right by the huge oak doors. Her veil was pinned on, and her heart pounded so loud it drowned out everything else. Roses and shiny wood filled the air, thick enough to choke on almost. She put a gloved hand to her chest, trying to calm the mess inside.
Marcelline, her little sister, was down there fiddling with the dress hem. You look like you were made for this, Sera, she said in a quiet voice, all warm and soft. Like a queen or something. Everyone's gonna be blown away.
Seraphina managed a small smile. She'd always pictured this day as perfect, glowing and all. Walking to Lucian, feeling that solid certainty settle in her like something precious. But now, with sweaty hands in those satin gloves, it wasn't triumph. It was this prickly feeling, like doubt creeping in.
The violins started up, loud and swelling. The doors swung wide, and light poured in everywhere.
People gasped as her dress caught the chandelier shine, lace dragging behind like pale moonlight on water. The marble floor bounced back the candle glow, making it seem like she walked on flames. She saw faces flashing by. Vivienne Armand, her boss, with that short sharp haircut and even sharper look in her eyes. Cousins leaning in, proud as anything. Elias Marrick, Lucian's brother, giving a shy sort of smile. The whole place buzzed with quiet wonder from all those folks watching her move to the altar.
And up there at the end, Lucian Marrick waited. Tall guy, real classy look, brown hair shining, green eyes full of that charm that used to get to her. He was every bit the man she'd promised her life to. Every bit the one she'd trusted.
Still, her stomach knotted up tighter with every step. Like her body knew a secret her head wouldn't admit.
She got to him. His smile got bigger, and he took her hand smooth as could be. The officiant started talking, voice deep and steady, words meant to lock her into happiness. But instead, something tugged at her calm, pulling it apart bit by bit.
Then the whispering started.
It spread through the crowd quick, like a chill wind. One person leaned to another, eyebrows knit, and the murmurs built up fast. Seraphina blinked, confused now. She looked over the seats, and that's when she spotted a woman leaning in, passing something her way careful like.
A phone.
She paused before grabbing it. The cold metal hit her palm hard, clashing with the warm flowers she held. Under the roses, she angled the screen to see.
Everything spun hard.
There was Lucian, clear as day, stretched out on hotel sheets, shirt open halfway, grinning all lazy and sly. His hand on some woman's bare leg, all possessive, her in silk sheets. Next photo, his mouth on her neck, teeth brushing skin, her laughing with eyes shut in bliss. Another one, fingers in her hair like it was no big deal.
Isolde Renn.
Her maid of honor. Best friend, even.
Her sight went razor sharp, every bit hurting. The date stamped there burned in. Two nights back. She'd been in her room with Marcelline, doing nails in red, giggling over vows, while Lucian.
Her throat closed up.
No.
Her brain fought it, grabbing for reasons. Old picture maybe, or faked, or not what it seemed. But then she thought of Isolde's shaky hands fixing her veil earlier. Lucian's eyes dodging when she asked about his sleep the day before. All those tiny signs she'd ignored, now slamming together clear and mean.
Her legs went weak. Fingers squeezed the bouquet hard, thorns poking through, drawing blood. The guests around blurred, whispers growing, some gasping, and others craning for a peek.
Her head came up slow, like pulled by force. Lucian's smile slipped when he saw the look in her eyes.
Lucian, she whispered, voice thin and choked. Tell me this isn't for real.
His hand jerked toward hers, keeping up the charm act. Sera, it's, don't do this right here. His tone was gentle, pulling her in, way too slick. They don't matter. You're the one. You know it.
She glanced sharp to the side. Isolde. Right there, gripping her flowers white-knuckled, lips open, face pale. The guilt in those hazel eyes screamed louder than words.
Seraphina's whole world split. The floor under her might as well have cracked open.
Nothing? She hissed, slicing the quiet. She shoved the phone at him, screen glaring on his perfect face. That, her voice shook, getting louder as everyone listened hard, is nothing?
Gasps exploded in the hall. A shriek from the back. Some guy cursed. Whispers turned to a full roar of shock.
Lucian stepped forward quick, eyes wide with fear now. Listen, Seraphina. Just a slip-up, that's all. I love you. Always have.
Love? It shot from her mouth like poison. You call that love?
Tears spilled hot down her face, messing up the makeup. Her body shook with anger and hurt, chest rising fast. Hands trembling, she ripped the veil off. Pins tugged her hair, letting dark waves fall loose. The veil dropped to the marble, got stepped on by shifting feet.
Seraphina, please. Lucian's voice broke, not smooth anymore, just raw and begging.
Don't touch me! she snapped, yanking her hand back when he tried. Don't you dare?
The officiant tried saying something, calming things, but nobody paid mind. The whole ceremony was wrecked. Seraphina could hardly hear past her pounding heart as she spun and ran back down the aisle.
The oak doors came up fast. She shoved them wide, and cool night air smacked her. Rain started falling, light but steady, soaking the silk and lace right away. The dress pulled heavy, snagging on stones as she tripped into the street.
Sera! Marcelline's call cut through, scared and sharp. Wait.
But she couldn't stop. Her chest hurt bad as she ran, flowers dropping from her hands, roses spilling on wet stones like blood spots. Tears and rain mixed, blurring it all.
At the street's edge, she fell down, knees hitting cobblestones hard. She curled up, silk and betrayal weighing her down. Hands scraped at the stones while sobs ripped out.
Marcelline got there, knelt by her, holding her shoulders. Sera, breathe. Come on, just breathe.
But Seraphina couldn't. Mascara ran black on her face, hair stuck to her skin, the veil in the mud like a dead dream of what she'd never be. Overhead, rain and sorrow mixed into one big blur.
The wedding ended perfect no more, not a single promise said.