The church was heavy with silence.
Not the holy kind that inspires reverence, but the suffocating kind—the kind that presses against your skin and makes your lungs fight for air.
I froze at the altar, my bouquet trembling in my hands. Roses and baby's breath slipped against my palms as my grip loosened. My smile—seconds ago a flawless mask for the cameras—died the moment I saw him.
Adrian.
The man I had buried in memory.
The man I had promised myself I'd never see again.
The man who held the key to everything I had tried so hard to keep hidden.
He stood at the back of the cathedral, uninvited but somehow unshaken, as though the whole world had paused just for him. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, sunlight streaming behind him like some cruel spotlight. His jaw was sharper now, his dark hair shorter, and his eyes—oh, those eyes—still carried the same storm that once drowned me.
"Elena," he called, his voice echoing through the marble arches. It was steady, firm… but I heard the tremor beneath it. The tremor of a man who had come not for a reunion, but for a reckoning.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Every guest turned. A murmur rippled through the pews like wind through dry leaves. I saw heads tilt, whispers exchanged. The paparazzi, tucked neatly at the sides of the hall with their silent cameras, began to snap, sensing blood in the water.
Beside me, Alexander stiffened. His hand—steady, powerful, the hand I thought would protect me from everything—unconsciously curled into a fist. His face betrayed nothing, though; that's what terrified me most. His silence was louder than the whispers filling the church.
He didn't look at Adrian. He looked at me.
"Elena," Alexander said quietly, so only I could hear. His voice was a warning, a demand, and a question all at once.
I couldn't answer. I couldn't even breathe.
Adrian began walking down the aisle. Each step was deliberate, echoing against the stone floor. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't afraid. He walked like a man who knew he belonged here, like a man who believed no one could stop him.
The guards stationed at the doors tensed, but a subtle gesture from Alexander kept them still. This wasn't a fight yet—it was a test.
Adrian's gaze locked onto mine, burning with all the words he hadn't yet spoken.
"You're really going to marry him?" His voice carried now, sharp enough for every soul in that room to hear. "After everything we had?"
Gasps swept through the guests. My legs nearly gave out.
I gripped the bouquet tighter, petals crushing under my shaking fingers. My past, my shame, the piece of myself I thought I had escaped—it had just walked into my present dressed in a suit.
Alexander's eyes narrowed. His voice was calm, but it cut like glass.
"Who is this man, Elena?"
The question hung in the air, suspended between us.
The church seemed to lean in, waiting, hungering for the answer. I saw curiosity gleaming in the guests' eyes. Some with pity. Some with delight. Everyone here loved a scandal more than a fairy tale.
Adrian took another step, closer now, until I could almost feel his presence pulling at me.
"You can't do this," he said, his voice cracking for just a heartbeat before hardening again. "You can't marry him, not without telling him the truth."
The whispers grew louder, spreading like wildfire. Truth. What truth? What was he talking about?
Alexander's gaze snapped to Adrian, cold and dangerous. "Truth?" he repeated, the word tasting like poison in his mouth. Then, sharper: "Elena. What truth?"
My lips trembled. My chest burned with the need to speak, but fear pinned me in place.
Because Adrian wasn't bluffing. He wasn't here to ruin me for sport. He had come armed with the one thing I couldn't fight: the past.
And now the man I was about to marry—and the entire world watching—demanded answers.
I felt the walls of the church closing in. The cameras, the whispers, Alexander's unreadable stare, and Adrian's relentless presence… all pressing against me.
There was no escape.
No pretending anymore.
The past had come for me.
And this time, it wasn't leaving quietly.