The Wedding Morning

The Wedding Morning

I didn't sleep.

I lay in my childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until dawn. The wedding was in eight hours. In eight hours, I was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry Damon.

In eight hours, everything would change.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I grabbed it. My heart was pounding.

Elias: I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about you.

I stared at the screen for a long moment.

I should have turned it off. I should have closed my eyes and tried to rest. I should have done the right thing.

Instead, I typed back: Me neither.

Elias: Don't marry him.

Elias: Please.

I didn't respond. I just set the phone down and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

Mia arrived at 8 AM.

She was radiant, buzzing with energy, carrying a garment bag and a makeup kit. She burst into my room like a hurricane.

"Today's the day!" she sang. "My best friend is getting married!"

I forced a smile. "Today's the day."

She stopped. She looked at me closely.

"Clara. You look terrible."

"Thanks."

"I'm serious." She sat on the edge of my bed. "You're pale. You have dark circles. Did you sleep at all?"

"A little."

"A little isn't enough for your wedding day." She reached out and touched my hand. "What's going on?"

I looked at her.

Mia. My best friend. The woman who'd held my hand through everything. The woman who knew me better than anyone.

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to confess everything. I wanted to say: I slept with Damon's father. I'm in love with him. I can't marry Damon.

But I couldn't. The words wouldn't come.

"I'm just nervous," I said. "That's all."

She studied my face for a long moment. Then she smiled—warm, reassuring.

"Okay," she said. "Then let's make you the most beautiful bride this city has ever seen."

The dress was beautiful.

White silk. Fitted bodice. Flowing skirt. I'd chosen it months ago, when I still believed in happily ever after.

Mia helped me into it. She zipped it up. She adjusted the train. She stood back and admired her work.

"You look perfect," she said.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

The woman looking back at me was a stranger.

My father walked me down the aisle.

The church was packed. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. I could see Damon at the altar, smiling. I could see his mother in the front row. I could see Elias sitting beside her.

He was watching me.

I couldn't breathe.

The music swelled. The guests rose. I walked forward, one step at a time, my father's arm steady beneath my hand.

I reached the altar.

My father released me. Damon took my hands.

"You look beautiful," he whispered.

I didn't answer.

The priest began to speak.

I didn't hear him. The words blurred together, meaningless sounds. I looked at Damon. His smile was wide, genuine. He had no idea. He had no idea what I'd done. He had no idea I was in love with his father.

I looked at Elias.

He was watching me. His grey eyes were fixed on mine. He didn't smile. He didn't move. He just watched.

I felt something break inside me.

"Do you, Clara, take Damon to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I opened my mouth.

No.

The word was there. On the tip of my tongue. No. But I couldn't say it. Not in front of everyone. Not with my father watching. Not with Damon's mother smiling.

"Clara?" The priest looked confused.

I opened my mouth again.

"No."

The word came out loud and clear.

Damon's smile vanished.

"What?"

"No," I said again. "I can't do this."

The church fell silent.

Damon stared at me. His face was a mask of shock, disbelief, anger.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Clara, this isn't funny."

"It's not a joke." My voice was shaking but steady. "I can't marry you."

"You can't—" He grabbed my arm. "You can't do this to me. Not here. Not now."

I pulled away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry. But I can't lie anymore."

"Lie?" His voice cracked. "What lie?"

I looked at Elias.

He was standing now. His face was pale. His hands were trembling.

"I can't marry you," I repeated. "Because I'm in love with someone else."

The church erupted.

Damon's mother stood up, her face white. My father looked like he'd been struck. Mia rushed toward me, her eyes wide.

"Clara, what are you doing?" she hissed. "Are you insane?"

I didn't answer.

I looked at Damon.

"You cheated on me," I said.

He froze.

"What?"

"With Mia."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Damon's face went white. Mia's mouth fell open.

"That's a lie," Damon said. "That's—"

"I saw you." My voice was cold now. Steady. "I saw you with her. In our bed."

Mia stepped back. Her face crumpled.

"Clara, I—"

"Don't." I turned to her. "Don't lie to me. Not now."

She started crying.

Damon looked between us, his mouth opening and closing.

"She's lying," he said. "She's trying to—"

"She's pregnant," I said.

The words hung in the air.

Damon's face went from white to grey.

"How did you—"

"Mia told me." I looked at my best friend. "Before the wedding. She said she was pregnant. And she said the baby was yours."

Mia was sobbing now. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean what?" I asked. "To sleep with him? To get pregnant? To destroy my life?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

I turned back to Damon.

"There's something else."

He looked at me. His eyes were wild.

"I slept with someone too," I said.

His jaw tightened.

"Who?"

I didn't answer. I just looked at Elias.

Damon followed my gaze.

His face went from grey to ash.

"No," he whispered. "No. Not him. Please tell me it's not—"

"It's him," I said.

The church was chaos.

Damon lunged at Elias. Warriors pulled him back. Damon's mother was screaming. My father was frozen in his seat, his face buried in his hands. The guests were all on their feet, phones out, recording everything.

I stood in the middle of it all, my white dress stained with tears, my hands shaking.

I had done it.

I had destroyed everything.

But I was free.

I didn't wait for the chaos to settle.

I turned and walked out of the church. I could hear footsteps behind me. I didn't look back.

"Clara!"

Elias's voice. I stopped. I turned.

He was standing in the church doorway, his suit rumpled, his face pale.

"You told them," he said.

"I had to."

"You destroyed my family."

I looked at him. I thought of everything that had brought us here the club, the penthouse, the seduction, the lies.

"I didn't destroy your family," I said. "I just stopped pretending it wasn't already broken."

I turned and walked away.

He didn't follow.