I wanted to be sick.“You’re gonna look so stunning,” one of the artists said softly, not realizing she was speaking to a corpse in silk. “He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”But I didn’t want Mikhail to look at me out of obligation. I didn’t want his eyes to land on me and feel trapped. I w
L A N AI imagined walking down the aisle, Mikhail waiting at the altar. He wouldn't smile. He wouldn't reach for me with warmth. He’d stand there because he had to. Because I gave him no other choice.I saw our wedding photos. I’d be glowing. He’d be cold.I saw our future. A house full of silence.
And yet, here I was. Counting down the hours.I got up from bed, barefoot and shaken, walking quietly to the balcony where the wind carried the scent of roses and regret. I closed my eyes, remembering the day I first saw Mikhail with Elle. The way he looked at her. The way she made him laugh like he
L A N ADinner was set at the garden patio that overlooked the lake, the summer twilight painting the sky in warm shades of peach and violet. Emory had gone all out, crystal flutes filled with sparkling rosé, rose-gold cutlery, and a five-course meal arranged by a private chef she’d flown in from th
E L L EI didn’t even flinch as the door slammed behind her. I didn’t reach for the dress either. I let it sit there like the insult it was, soaking in the dirt and dust and damp of the room like it belonged here more than I did. My eyes rose slowly to meet hers, and I smiled.Not a sweet smile. Not
L A N AHer face twisted in disgusted disbelief. “Are you seriously pulling this now? Now, Lana? After everything we’ve done, everything we’ve sacrificed, you want to chicken out because he hasn’t written you a damn love letter yet?”“I’m not chickening out,” I said, though my voice faltered. “I’m t