Chapter 5: Shattered Dreams

SOFIE 

The room was too quiet. Too still. Something was wrong.

My chest squeezed tight, like something inside had been wound too far. Claire had gone to find Andrew. She should’ve been back by now.

I stared at the door, willing her to walk through it. Each second dragged longer than the last. Hope thudded under my skin, sharp and stubborn.

Then the knob turned.

I stood up too fast. Relief almost hit me. Almost. But it never made it all the way.

Because Claire stepped in. And the look on her face stopped everything.

Pale. Wide-eyed. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out. My breath stuck in my throat.

“Claire.” My voice was small. “What is it? Is Andrew okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were glassy, brimming, and locked on mine. She didn’t have to say a word.

I already knew.

A sick twist pulled low in my stomach.

Please no. Please don’t say it. Don’t let this be what it feels like.

“I talked to Mark,” she said quietly. “Andrew called him.”

My knees wobbled. The air shifted. It got harder to pull it in.

Claire met my eyes, steady now, even though I could see how much it cost her.

And that was when everything inside me broke open.

“Sofie…” She swallowed. “He’s not coming. He said he loves someone else.”

The floor tilted.

My legs gave out. I dropped. The pain didn’t register. My body hit the ground, but it was like it happened to someone else.

No. No. This isn’t real.

My lungs wouldn’t work. I gasped, but nothing filled me. Then a sound ripped from my throat. Harsh. Unrecognizable. A scream that didn’t even sound human.

I clawed at my chest, as if I could hold it together. My heart slammed against my ribs. Too fast. Too loud.

I can’t breathe. I can’t—

The room spun. I curled my fists into the folds of my dress and held on like that would stop the collapse.

He loves someone else.

The words beat through my skull. Over and over, fast and cruel.

It didn’t just hurt. It destroyed. My stomach flipped. I gagged, empty. My hands shook. My skin turned cold. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t move.

Claire dropped to the floor next to me. She wrapped her arms around me, held on while my body convulsed in her grip.

The sobs came hard, ugly. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t catch a breath between them.

The scent of roses from my bouquet, once comforting, now turned my stomach. The delicate lace of my dress scratched against my skin, each thread a reminder of the day’s unraveling. 

The room's silence was deafening, broken only by the distant murmur of guests unaware of the storm that had just torn through my world.

Still shaking, I closed my eyes for a second and the past rushed in, uninvited.

Andrew and I, sitting on the park bench where he first said he loved me. The sun had been warm, the scent of spring grass thick in the air. A breeze had rustled the trees, carrying laughter from somewhere nearby. He had held my hand with such conviction.

"I can't imagine my life without you," he had whispered.

That bench used to feel like the start of forever. Now it was just another place where lies were spoken in the sunlight.

That memory felt like a cruel joke.

He left me. He doesn’t love me.

Everything I had pictured: the day, the ceremony, the vows, the life after. It all shattered into pieces that wouldn’t go back together.

I don’t know how long I cried. The minutes stretched and blurred. Maybe it was only a few. Maybe it was longer.

At some point, my body stopped shaking. The tears didn’t stop, but they slowed. I lay there, curled up, my dress twisted and wrinkled under me. My muscles ached from the effort of surviving it.

Strands of hair were out of place. My cheeks were wet. My chest was raw.

Claire reached up and pushed a curl behind my ear. She moved slowly, like even that might be too much for me to handle.

“I’ll go help Mark with the guests,” she whispered. Her voice wavered, but she stayed upright. Steady.

She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. Then she stood. Paused for a beat. And slipped out of the room, leaving the door to click softly shut behind her.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

The thought of walking down that aisle, of facing all those eyes and whispers, all those looks thick with pity, made my stomach twist.

I can’t let them see me like this. They’ll know. They’ll all know I wasn’t enough.

I sat frozen as the silence thickened around me. Then, finally, I pushed myself off the floor, my legs trembling beneath me. I tore the veil from my head and moved to the door. My hand hovered near the handle.

When I stepped into the hallway, it hit me.

To the right, the double doors to the sanctuary waited, polished and hollow. Once, they had meant vows and a future. Now, they held nothing but absence. A stage set for a life that had already slipped away.

To the left, the church’s main exit. Heavy. Still. Leading nowhere and everywhere.

I stood between them, my breath shallow, heart racing.

The sanctuary beckoned with its familiar warmth, a place where dreams were meant to come true. Yet, its doors now seemed like gates to a life built on lies.

I remembered the countless hours spent choosing the perfect flowers, the rehearsals, the laughter shared with bridesmaids. All leading to this moment.

The exit, though unknown, offered a path away from the facade. Each direction held its own terror, but only one offered a chance at truth.

The sanctuary offered nothing but the echo of a promise already broken.

The exit didn’t promise anything either. But at least it was mine to choose.

I turned.

The main doors loomed in front of me like a monument to what might’ve been. 

Every step toward them felt like stepping away from the girl I used to be and toward the woman I’d have to become.

I pressed a palm to my chest, swallowed hard, and made myself move. One step. Then another. I reached for the handle, pulled the doors open, and stepped into the downpour.

Rain hit fast and cold, soaking me instantly. I didn’t flinch.

Each drop felt like a baptism, a painful yet necessary rite of passage into a new, uncertain chapter of my life.

The rain soaked through every layer, washing away the remnants of a future that would never be. It mingled with my tears, indistinguishable in their descent.

I kept walking.

The city blurred around me. People turned. Umbrellas tilted. Their faces were shadows. I didn’t see them. Didn’t care.

Each step thudded beneath me, heavier than the last.

What now? Where do I go?

I didn’t know.

But somewhere out there, someone else was asking the same thing.

And whether we knew it or not, we were already moving toward each other.