PROLOGUE

“My wedding is cancelled. My groom stood me up.”

The words came through the microphone loud and clear, spreading across the grand wedding hall and killing every conversation in an instant.

Neveah stood at the end of the aisle in her ivory wedding gown, one hand wrapped around the microphone while the other held a bouquet of white roses. Hundreds of guests stared at her as though she had suddenly grown another head.

Someone near the front actually gasped.

Neveah looked around the room, taking in the beautifully decorated tables, the towering arrangements of white flowers, the crystal chandeliers, and the elaborate arch where she was supposed to exchange vows with the man she had loved.

Well, at least most of it had been paid for.

“You can leave if you want,” she continued, her voice remarkably steady. “Or you can stay and enjoy yourselves. The food is already prepared, the drinks are already chilled, and I'm sure the scenery is worth staying for.”

A nervous murmur travelled through the room.

Her mother looked as though she might faint.

Her father looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Neveah couldn't blame either of them. If someone had told her yesterday that she would be standing in front of all her wedding guests announcing that her groom had abandoned her, she would have laughed in their face.

But here she was.

“Everything has been paid for,” she added, giving the room a small shrug. “So please, don't let my cancelled wedding ruin your afternoon.”

She handed the microphone back to the event coordinator, who accepted it with the stunned expression of a man who had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do next.

Neveah turned toward the altar.

The same aisle she had planned to walk down only minutes ago now felt strangely unfamiliar.

She had imagined this moment so many times. Her father walking beside her. Her fiancé waiting at the end. Their families watching. The music rising as she took each step toward the man she had promised to spend the rest of her life with.

Instead, there was an empty space waiting for her.

And ten minutes earlier, she had still believed he was waiting there.

---

Ten minutes earlier, Neveah had been sitting in the bridal dressing room, arguing with her maid of honor about her veil.

“It’s crooked.”

Clara stared at her through the mirror. “It isn't.”

“It is.”

“Neveah, I've adjusted that veil three times.”

“And it is still crooked.”

Clara walked behind her and examined the veil with the patience of a woman who had known Neveah long enough to understand that arguing was pointless.

After a moment, she moved the edge of the veil slightly.

“There.”

Neveah studied her reflection.

“Better.”

Clara folded her arms. “You know, most brides spend their wedding morning worrying about whether their future husband loves them.”

“I know he loves me.”

“Then what are you worrying about?”

“The veil.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Neveah smiled.

Despite the teasing, she could feel the nervous flutter in her stomach. She glanced at the clock on the wall.

Twenty minutes.

In twenty minutes, she would walk down the aisle.

Outside the dressing room, the wedding venue hummed with activity. She could hear muted conversations through the closed doors, the movement of staff, and the soft instrumental music playing in the hall. Their guests had already been seated.

Everything was ready.

The flowers were exactly where she wanted them. The candles had been arranged in neat rows along the tables. The champagne was waiting. The photographer had been instructed on every important shot.

Neveah had planned everything down to the smallest detail.

Some people called her controlling.

She called it being prepared.

Her phone rested on the table beside her. She glanced at it again.

Nothing.

Her fiancé should have been at the altar by now.

“Has he called?” she asked.

Clara checked her own phone. “No.”

Neveah frowned.

“Maybe he's already in the hall.”

“He probably is.”

“He should have sent me a message.”

“Neveah, you're getting married in twenty minutes. Maybe he's a little busy.”

She picked up her phone and checked it again.

Still nothing.

“He knows I hate being kept waiting.”

Clara gave her a look.

“What?”

“You're doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Worrying while pretending you're not worried.”

Neveah opened her mouth to argue, but a knock sounded at the door.

Three firm knocks.

Clara turned toward it. “Come in.”

The door opened.

A man in a black suit stepped inside.

He wasn't part of the wedding staff. Neveah would have remembered him.

He stood awkwardly near the door, holding a white envelope.

His gaze settled on her.

“Miss Neveah?”

“Yes?”

He walked over and held out the envelope.

“This was given to me to deliver to you.”

Neveah looked at the envelope.

Her name was written across the front in familiar handwriting.

Her fiancé's handwriting.

A strange chill moved through her body.

“Where is he?”

The man avoided her eyes.

“Where is my fiancé?”

“I was only instructed to give you the letter.”

Clara stepped forward. “What letter?”

The man placed it in Neveah's hand.

“I'm sorry.”

Then he left.

The door closed behind him.

Neveah stared at the envelope.

For several seconds, she couldn't bring herself to open it.

There was something about the handwriting that made her heart sink before she had even read a word.

Clara touched her arm.

“Neveah?”

She tore the envelope open.

There was only one sheet of paper inside.

She unfolded it.

The first sentence made her stop breathing.

I'm sorry you're finding out this way.

Her eyes moved slowly down the page.

I couldn't do this in person.

She continued reading.

He said he couldn't marry her.

He said she was too controlling, too demanding, and too stubborn. He couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life feeling as though every part of his life needed her approval. Every decision, every friendship, every plan had somehow become something she wanted to manage.

He wanted freedom.

He wanted a life where he didn't feel watched.

And he couldn't marry her.

Neveah read the final sentence twice.

I won't be coming to the wedding.

Her fingers loosened around the paper.

The room suddenly seemed too quiet.

“Neveah?”

She looked at Clara.

“He's not coming.”

Clara's expression changed. “What?”

“He isn't coming.”

Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears.

“He cancelled the wedding.”

Clara snatched the letter from her hand and read it.

“Oh my God.”

Neveah looked at the clock.

Nineteen minutes.

Nineteen minutes until she was supposed to walk down the aisle.

Nineteen minutes until every guest in the hall would realize there was no groom waiting for her.

She looked down at her wedding dress.

It had taken months to choose it.

The ivory silk hugged her figure perfectly before spilling into a long train behind her. Tiny pearls were sewn into the bodice, catching the light whenever she moved. Her hair had been styled carefully, her veil pinned perfectly in place.

She looked like a bride.

She felt like an idiot.

The door opened again.

Her father entered, followed by her mother.

One look at Neveah's face was enough.

Her father stopped.

“What happened?”

Clara handed him the letter.

He read it slowly, his jaw tightening as he reached the end.

Her mother took it from him.

“No,” she whispered.

Neveah watched them both.

Nobody seemed to know what to say.

Finally, her father looked at her.

“We'll deal with this.”

“How?”

“We can postpone the ceremony.”

Neveah stared at him.

“Postpone it?”

“Just for today. Give him some time. Perhaps he'll reconsider.”

“He isn't reconsidering anything.”

“You don't know that.”

“He wrote me a letter, Dad.”

Her voice cracked slightly, and she hated herself for it.

“He made this decision before this morning. He didn't just wake up and change his mind.”

Her mother stepped closer.

“Sweetheart, please sit down. Stay here for now. Let us speak to the guests.”

Neveah shook her head.

“No.”

“Neveah.”

“I am not hiding in this room.”

Her father sighed. “You don't have to face everyone.”

“Yes, I do.”

“They're going to talk.”

“They were going to talk anyway.”

She walked over to the table and picked up her bouquet.

Her mother watched her anxiously.

“What are you planning to do?”

Neveah looked at herself in the mirror.

For a moment, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her.

She had spent months making sure everything about this day was perfect. She had arranged the seating chart, selected the flowers, approved the menu, chosen the music and personally inspected the venue twice.

She had controlled everything she could.

Everything except the groom.

Apparently, that was the one thing that mattered.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened her shoulders.

“I'm going out there.”

Her mother immediately shook her head.

“Please don't.”

“Why?”

“Because you're hurt.”

“I know.”

“Then don't make a decision while you're emotional.”

Neveah looked at her mother through the mirror.

“I'm not making a decision.”

She turned around.

“I'm making an announcement.”

Her father stared at her.

“Neveah, think carefully.”

“I have.”

She walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To my wedding.”

Her mother looked horrified.

“There isn't a wedding anymore.”

Neveah placed her hand on the doorknob.

“I know.”

She opened the door.

The moment she stepped into the corridor, she could hear the wedding music more clearly.

Her wedding march.

The irony almost made her laugh.

She started walking.

Staff members moved aside when they saw her. A few glanced at one another, clearly aware that something had gone terribly wrong.

Neveah kept her head high.

She could feel her heart pounding beneath her ribs, but she refused to let it show.

When the doors to the main hall opened, the music grew louder.

Every guest turned.

For one brief moment, nobody seemed to understand what they were seeing.

The bride was walking down the aisle.

Alone.

Neveah kept moving.

Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she walked past the seated guests. She saw familiar faces watching her with confusion and pity. She saw some people whispering behind their hands.

She ignored them.

At the end of the aisle, she stopped beside the empty space where her groom should have been.

She looked at it for a long moment.

Then she reached for the microphone.

The music stopped.

The entire hall went silent.

Neveah looked at the hundreds of people who had come to witness her marriage.

She could cry later.

She could fall apart later.

Right now, she needed to take back the one thing her fiancé had tried to take from her.

Her dignity.

She lifted the microphone.

“My wedding is cancelled.”

A stunned silence followed.

“My groom stood me up.”

And judging by the expressions on everyone's faces, nobody in that room was ever going to forget Neveah's wedding day.