Five Years and a Lifetime Ago

The day came like bad luck you couldn't outrun.

The Balinese sun was too bright for a mood this dark. A soft ocean breeze slipped through the sheer organza curtains strung between white pillars. A long dining table draped in ivory linen stretched across the terrace, clear glass candles lined up in symmetry, and dusty rose and buttercream peonies and garden roses arranged perfectly down the center.

Golden light. Like a blow I saw coming but still cracked something inside me.

Because all of this, every inch of it, looked exactly like the picture I once built quietly in my head. My dream wedding. My dream decor.

Except… it wasn’t for me.

I wasn’t the one walking down that aisle. I wasn’t the one standing beneath a floral arch of hydrangeas and eucalyptus while soft classical music played in the background. I wasn’t the one looking at the man at the altar, even if once I thought I could’ve been.

I walked through the venue, clipboard in hand, headset in my ear, the voices of vendors and crew crackling back and forth. Everything was running smoothly. Too smoothly, really, because I was too professional to let my feelings get in the way.

Angela sat at the edge of the garden, holding a mango popsicle and a wide-brimmed hat, keeping an eye on Sienna, who was busy digging in the fine white sand near the small stage. She was laying down seashells and dried flowers between her knees, softly singing something about a mermaid and… a sea monster who borrowed lipstick.

I smiled. Sienna’s world was always the best place to escape to. Unfortunately, today, there was nowhere far enough.

"Is the backdrop ready?" I asked into my headset.

"All set, Boss. Matches the last sketch."

I made my way slowly toward the altar, checking the height of the posts, inspecting each flower by hand. My fingers brushed across the linen … and then, my heart dropped.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Measured.

I knew those steps. I knew that rhythm. I knew the gravity carried.

I turned my head slowly. And there he was.

Nicholas De Castello.

The charming bastard with ice-blue eyes who used to freeze my blood and set off sirens in my chest at the same time. The man who once touched me like I was the only real thing in a world full of lies.

And now… he stood in front of me.

Five years older.

And somehow, even more dangerous.

His white shirt was rolled neatly at the sleeves, showing the veins of his forearms and a watch worth more than my house deposit. His dark hair was slicked back, not a single strand out of place. His jaw was sharper. Colder.

Controlled.

That man...my ex. The father of my child....was two meters away from me. And he looked at me like I was furniture.

His eyes skimmed over me. No surprise. No flicker of recognition. No tension. No twitch of muscle.

Not even a pause.

His smile was… formal. Barely there. Like the kind you give a waitress who just brought you a glass of water.

The assistant beside him spoke up immediately. “Mr. De Castello, this is Maya Moguel. She’s the lead planner for today’s event. All the decor and logistics are her work.”

Nicholas turned his head toward me. Slightly.

Then gave a single, polite nod.

I nearly laughed. And wanted to slap him. And laughed again at myself for still being alive enough to feel this kind of pain.

“It’s a pleasure working with you,” he said flatly.

His voice hadn’t changed. Still deep. Slightly husky. But now it was like a velvet-coated bullet. No wound. Just damage.

I opened my mouth. No idea what to say. Half of me wanted to claw his face. The other half wanted to drag him behind the tent and ask him : ‘who the hell are you now and where did the man go, the one who used to hold me like the world was ending?’.

“Boss!”  Catalina huffed, breathless, and ran into me. “Problem. Big one.”

I spun around. “What?”

“The bride and her bridesmaid… ... haven’t arrived. They’re late.”

I looked at the time. Less than two hours before the ceremony. No rehearsal. No final lighting test.

And now the bride was missing.

“She’s always late,” said that familiar voice. Low. Almost amused. “Probably still picking the perfect lipstick to match her flower crown.”

He smiled. Just a little. The quiet smile on lips too soft for someone who broke me so cleanly.

I stared at him. I didn’t blink.

He used to hate lateness. Once cursed out a staff member for a ten-minute delay in a meeting. Once canceled dinner because I was ten minutes late with… constipation.

But today?He smiled.

Nicholas smiled at chaos. For another woman.

And something inside me… cracked.

That was the moment I understood something. Only the ones who are truly loved… Can screw everything up and still be forgiven.

Even admired.

I nodded slowly, pretending not to feel anything. Pretending not to break. Pretending to be busy with my clipboard.

Good for you, Nicholas, I thought. You finally learned tolerance. Too bad that lesson only came after you pushed away the woman who helped pull you out of the wreckage of your life.

But one thing still gnawed at me.

It wasn’t the wedding. It wasn’t the smile on his face. It was the way he pretended not to know me. Not just ignoring. Not just awkward small talk. But full-on stranger mode.

Five years ago, I loved him like a damn fool. Gave him everything. My time, my body, and without realizing it... our daughter.

And now he talked to me like I was some random woman he bumped into in an elevator.

How does someone erase a past that fast? Did he have amnesia or something?

“Boss.” Catalina’s voice snapped me out of my spiral. “We’ve got another problem.”

I sighed.

“The flower girl,” she rushed on. “The one the bride flew in from Italy? She got scratched by a cat. Her arm’s swelling. Her mom’s panicking. The kid’s crying. Her makeup’s a disaster—”

I raised a hand. “Okay. Got it. I understand.”

I closed my eyes for a second. My head was starting to pound. I hadn’t had my second coffee yet. 

I was about to speak when I heard the heels clicking behind me.

I turned. And froze.

A poised woman walked toward me, silver hair in a perfect bun, a sky-blue knee-length dress, and a serene smile that didn’t match the chaos around her.

In her hand, clutching her hand, was a chubby little girl in a yellow pastel dress, frilly as a cake topper, with a big ribbon on her head.

Sienna.

My daughter.

A tremor started in my fingertips and spread straight to my chest.

Nicholas’s mother was holding my daughter’s hand.

And I knew I wasn’t hallucinating when the woman smiled at me and said, “I can’t stop looking at this little one.”

Her voice was soft. Like classical music from an old radio.

“She’s beautiful. Her eyes are just like Nicholas’s. And her hair... it’s exactly how his looked when he was a boy. Those soft curls, and that color... nearly identical.”

The world around me went silent. Like I’d fallen into some soundproof vacuum, except for the chaos of my own heartbeat.

Sienna turned to me, her cheeks flushed. “Hi, Mommy...”

My eyes darted around. Angela was gone. No trace of her. I looked back at Sienna. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be with Angela?”

Sienna shrugged. “I just wanted a cupcake. Then this grandma lady said she liked my shoes.”

Nicholas’s mother was still smiling. “She’s a sweetheart. So polite. And... absolutely adorable.” Her eyes twinkled as they returned to Sienna. “You know, darling, I think you could help out as a flower girl. The other little girl got hurt. You two could take turns. You’d be such a lovely pair.”

I froze. Every drop of blood in my body felt like it stopped moving.

“What?” My voice barely made it out.

She nodded gently. “I’m sure the bride won’t mind. I can just picture her walking in front of Nicholas, tossing little white rose petals. It’d be precious.”

In front of Nicholas.

My daughter.

I straightened my spine. Looked her straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, but my daughter can’t be a flower girl today.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh? But—”

“She can’t,” I said firmly. “Period.”

Because that was the one damn thing I still had control over in this entire mess.

My daughter was not going to be the girl who scattered petals down the aisle… for her own biological father. While he married someone else.

Not today.

Not ever.

Sienna glanced from me to the woman, then back to me again.

I braced for the whining. But instead, she just nodded, looked up at the woman, and said sweetly, “I can’t, Grandma. Mommy says I can only walk down the aisle... if it’s with our cat, Sushi.”

The woman blinked. “Sushi?”

Sienna nodded with all seriousness. “He’s a boy cat. Way better than any boy. Never leaves me. Not even when I poop.”

And just like that, she let go of the woman’s hand and ran straight to me.

Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine.

Nicholas’s mother stayed right where she was. Confused. But she didn’t ask more.

Sienna tilted her head up and whispered, “I don’t wanna give flowers to that guy. He’s annoying. And his smile... it’s creepy.”

I bit back a laugh and kissed her forehead. “I don’t like his smile either, sweetheart.”