chapter 6

The wedding day arrived faster than I expected.

I woke up in the same room they had locked me in for days.

My eyes were swollen and my throat still hurt from constant screaming.

My mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the maids fasten the tiny pearl buttons up my spine.

"Don't cry," she said. "You'll ruin the powder."

I hadn't realized I was crying as tears came silently. The storm I'd been dreading all week had finally arrived.

The maids' hands trembled as she worked, but I didn't look at her reflection in the mirror because I didn't want to see myself.

"You look beautiful," she whispered.

I said nothing.

The car ride to the venue was silent. My mother sat across from me, smoothing her dress, and my father stared out the window... nobody spoke.

The venue was a garden, filled with white flowers and white ribbons and rows of chairs full of people I didn't know. They smiled at me as I walked past, but they didn't know I was dying inside.

I stood at the back of the aisle, waiting.

And then I saw Damiano.

He stumbled through the garden gate; his eyes were glassy, and he swayed on his feet.

He was drunk.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

He laughed too loud as he walked past the guests, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray. He didn't look at me…he didn't see me at all.

"Damiano," I whispered.

He didn't turn.

I touched his arm, but he pulled away quickly, almost like he was disgusted, and walked toward his friends.

He didn't even glance in my direction.

I stood there in my white dress, holding my flowers, and felt invisible.

My hands started to shake, but I pressed them together to make it stop.

Look at me, I whispered… Please just look at me. See that I am not Elena and I am not the woman you expected.

But he kept laughing and talking to anyone except me.

The minister checked his watch and nodded at the musicians. The string music began.

I watched Damiano tell another joke to his friends. He hadn't said one word to me since he arrived.

My father appeared at my side, and he held out his arm. I could smell his cologne, the same one he always wore.

"Ready?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to say no…to scream.

But nothing came out.

Everyone stood. Hundreds of eyes turned toward me as the music played.

I looked at Damiano's back.

He still hadn't turned around.

The veil on my head shimmered. It was supposed to be beautiful, but it felt like a cage. The flowers in my hands were heavy.

I couldn't breathe.

This was it; this was the moment. If I walked down that aisle, there was no going back. The vows would be taken and the papers would be signed. I would be his.

I looked at my father's face. He was staring ahead, not at me.

I looked at my mother in the front row, and she was smiling.

I looked at the aisle, the white carpet stretched out before me.

And then I looked at Damiano again. He was facing the altar now, standing with his back facing me.

My father cleared his throat.

"Gabrielle," he said quietly. "We need to go."

The music played on while the guests watched and the minister smiled.

I took a breath…then another.

I lifted my foot and took one step onto the white carpet.

The veil swayed in front of my eyes.

I kept my eyes fixed on Damiano's back.

Praying.

"Just turn around," I begged silently. Please turn around and look at me.

Please save me from this.

But he didn't move.

He stood there, waiting to marry a woman he couldn't bother to look at.

And I kept walking.

Step by step.

The music was loud now. The guests were watching, and my mother was beaming.

And I realized the truth that hit me like a physical blow.

This was real.

This was happening.

There would be no rescue, no last-minute interruption.

Just me and a man who didn't know I existed, standing before God and everyone, about to promise forever.

My hands shook so hard the flowers rustled.

I reached the altar.

Damiano did not turn to me.

The minister opened his book.

"Dearly beloved," he began.

I stared at the back of Damiano's head, and I knew with absolute certainty that my mother's words were true.

I would die married to him.

Because I didn't know how to stop this, everyone around me was smiling while my father was handing me off and the vows were about to be said. And the world was moving forward, and I was frozen.

The minister looked at Damiano.

"Please face the bride," he said.

Damiano turned, and his eyes met mine.

But he didn't recognize me.

He looked at me like I was a decorated chair.

My throat closed.

"You don't see me," I thought. You don't know who I am.

And that was worse than anything.

"Dearly beloved," the minister said again, "we are gathered here today..."

I looked at my mother. She was crying happy tears.

I looked at the minister.

The music faded as the guests sat down.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

My father stepped forward.

"I do," he said.

His voice was steady and sure.

He reached for my hand.

I pulled back and for one second, there was silence.

My father's hand hung in the air and mother's smile faltered.

The minister looked confused but Damiano didn't notice at all; he was looking at something in the crowd.

The moment passed, and my father took my hand anyway and placed it in Damiano's.

Damiano's fingers closed around mine.

"Gabrielle," the minister said, "do you take this man...?"

I opened my mouth but the words sat on my tongue.