Left At The Altar

I stare out of my bedroom window, a soft smile tugging at my lips. The morning sun spills through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the floor. The weather is perfect, a beautiful day to shop for my wedding dress.I quickly send a message to my best friend, Mina, asking her to meet me at the boutique. She hasn’t replied yet. Lately she’s been acting distant, and we haven’t had time to talk because of work. I tell myself I’ll call her later.I smooth my hands over my blue custom-made suit and slip on my Louis Vuitton heels. I’m almost always in a suit. It feels like my armor and my red hair is neatly tucked into a bun. Taking a deep breath, I grab my phone and head downstairs.Sliding into the backseat of the car, I call Dave, my fiancé. We’ve been together since law school, six years now, and in just three days we’ll be husband and wife. The phone rings three times before his warm voice fills my ear.“Good morning, my soon-to-be Mrs. Carter. Are you up already?”I giggle sof

"Aurora?” Noah’s voice cut through the chaos, confusion etched across his face. “What happened?” he asked, glancing past me.Footsteps echoed behind. I tore myself out of his embrace and started walking away, my wedding dress swishing against my legs.“Wait, Aurora!” Dave’s voice called after me. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.“Please!”A sudden noise made me spin around. Noah had Dave pinned against the wall, his expression dark with anger. Dave’s eyes locked on mine, pleading, but how could I stay?I kept walking, out into the reception. Heads turned. Whispers followed. My bare feet were cold on the marble floor, but I barely felt it.Almost at the door, someone grabbed my arm. My heart lurched and I almost screamed—until I looked up.Max. My brother. He was staring down at me, concern and anger battling in his eyes.“What are you doing here?” he demanded, frowning. “Where are you going?” His gaze flicked around the room. “Where’s Dave?”For the first time, I looked straight at him

When I walked into the firm, my heels clicked across the marble floor like a warning bell — steady, sharp, unyielding. Every employee I passed straightened immediately, whispering my name like I was some untouchable goddess, but I felt anything but. Inside, I was just a woman whose world had collapsed in a single breath.Still, my head stayed high. Always high.The elevator doors slid open to the top floor, my office — my father’s legacy. The same office I once dreamed of sharing with him. Now, it felt cold, too quiet, like even the walls could sense my exhaustion. I walked straight to my desk, tossed my bag down, and buried myself in the comfort of work. Paperwork, contracts, case files — anything that could drown out the memory of yesterday.A soft knock came moments later. “Come in,” I said without looking up.My assistant, Clara, poked her head through the door, nervousness flickering in her eyes. “Ma’am… Mr. Dave is waiting outside.”My pen froze mid-sentence.I inhaled slowly,

The first night in a new place is always the loudest.Even silence has a sound.I stood barefoot in the middle of the living room, city lights bleeding through the windows, Chicago stretched out beneath me like an unfinished argument. The apartment smelled new—clean, untouched, unfamiliar. No trace of anyone else. No memories clinging to the walls.Exactly what I wanted.I unpacked methodically. Suits first. Shoes lined with precision. Toiletries arranged with the same care I used to organise case files. Control, even in the smallest things, mattered. When everything had a place, my thoughts stayed quieter.I showered, letting the hot water beat against my shoulders until my skin tingled, until the day finally loosened its grip. I slipped into an oversized black T-shirt and nothing else, hair damp down my back, and poured myself a glass of water.The city outside glittered indifferently.I moved toward the window, resting my forehead briefly against the cool glass. Down below, cars st

I don’t sleep.I lie in bed fully clothed, the city pressed tight against the windows, every sound amplified by the quiet. The hum of traffic below. The low thud of footsteps in the hallway. The faint whirr of the ventilation system cycling on and off.Control, I remind myself. I still have control.My phone sits face down on the nightstand.I don’t touch it.Morning comes grey and sharp, slicing through the blinds in thin, unforgiving lines. I’m already awake when the knock sounds—measured, deliberate. Not hurried.I sit up slowly, pulse steady, and check the security screen.Noah.He’s dressed in a dark charcoal suit, coat draped over one arm, hair perfectly in place. He looks like he’s walking into a boardroom, not standing outside the apartment of a woman who slept maybe two hours under threat.I open the door.“You look terrible,” he says.“Good morning to you too.”His gaze flicks over my face, lingering on the shadows under my eyes. “Did you sleep?”“That’s not your concern.”“