After the Applause Dies

“What do you mean, she said no?”

Freeda kept quiet.

Winnie’s grip got tighter as they hurried down the aisle. Freeda’s dress brushed the marble floor, soft but loud to her ears, like the sound didn’t want to let her go.

Behind them, the ballroom just sat there, stunned. Not noisy, not silent. just hanging in that weird in-between when everyone’s trying to figure out which reaction makes them look smartest.

“Freeda!”

Randy. His voice sounded closer than she wanted.

She kept moving.

A phone flashed right in her face—camera shutter. Someone whispered near her ear

“Wait, did she just refuse him?” Someone else said, “Something must be wrong with her.”

Kris shouldered a groomsman aside and kept walking.

The music didn’t fade; it just died. Violins stopped cold, right in the middle of a note.

Doors swung open.

Cool air hit her skin.

“Stop.”

Freeda stopped.

Not because he told her to. Because she wanted to look at him.

She turned.

Randy stood a few steps away, suit perfect, posture straight, that carefully arranged look on his face. Not hurt. Not even shocked. Just controlled. Like he still thought he could fix this if he picked the right words.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, voice low. “Come back inside. We can fix this before it turns into something bigger.”

“I’m thinking very clearly.”

His forehead pulled slightly, like he didn’t like what he just heard.

People started gathering behind him. Not close enough to jump in, just close enough to hear every word.

“You’re overwhelmed,” he tried. “It happens. Weddings are stressful. Come back inside. We can straighten this out.”

“I’m not overwhelmed.”

His jaw clenched.

“People are recording you,” he said. “You don’t want this online.”

Kris let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“This is between my fiancée and me,” Randy snapped.

“You don’t own her,” Kris shot back.

Randy ignored her. He only looked at Freeda, like she was the only thing in the world.

“You’re going to regret this,” he said.

Freeda tilted her head. “You’re not even angry.”

Silence.

“You’re just inconvenienced,” she said.

“That’s not fair.”

“And you’re not surprised, either. Because you didn’t think I knew.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Gone so quickly, but she saw it.

“What exactly do you think you know?” he asked.

Freeda didn’t blink. “You should watch what you say in rooms with doors that don’t close all the way.”

That’s when it hit him. Not loudly, but it landed.

His breath changed. barely, but enough.

Before he could respond, a voice from the curb beat him to it.

“You’re loud, Owen. Do you always get like this when things don’t go your way?”

Scott Baley leaned against a dark car like he’d been there long enough to hear everything. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable. Not the stance of someone minding their business.

Randy’s face tightened. “Of course. You.”

“I didn’t realize you were invited,” Randy added politely.

Scott’s gaze shifted from Randy to Freeda. Unhurried, like he wasn’t surprised by what he saw.

“Give the lady some space.”

“Stay out of this.”

Scott stayed put. “Today’s not really your day to be giving orders.”

Randy let out a short breath. “You’ve been waiting years for a moment like this, haven’t you?”

Something sharp slid into the air between them. Old history. Unfinished business. The kind men carried like a private ledger.

Winnie tugged at Freeda’s arm. “Get in the car.”

Randy closed the gap. “Don’t do this.”

Freeda didn’t even glance at him. “Don’t touch me.”

He stopped. Not because she told him to, but because her voice sounded so flat. Like she didn’t care.

The car door swung open. Slammed shut. Engine caught.

They drove away.

Freeda didn’t look back.

Inside, the car felt too quiet, except for the rustle of her dress every time she moved. It sounded way too loud, too obvious, like it wanted to remind her of what it all was supposed to mean.

Winnie broke the silence first, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

Freeda’s answer didn’t waver. “He doesn’t love me.”

Kris blinked. “What?”

“He was on the phone,” Freeda said. “With her.”

“With who?”

“Abigail White.”

The name landed hard.

Winnie’s jaw tightened. “His Abigail?”

Freeda nodded. “Yes.”

She swallowed. “He said marrying me was practical. And calling it off would ruin me, like he was doing me a favor. That I’d fall apart if he didn’t. He called that protecting me.”

Kris just stared. “He actually said that?”

Freeda nodded again. “He said after today, nothing changes for them.”

No one spoke after that.

Not until the car stopped.

Winnie’s apartment felt hollow when they walked in.

Freeda sank onto the couch. Her dress gathered at her feet. Heavy and useless now. All the effort and lace were suddenly pointless—too much fabric for a life that had already changed.

She still clutched the bouquet. The ribbon had left faint marks on her fingers.

Winnie asked, “Do you want to cry?”

“No.”

“Scream?”

“No.”

Freeda stared into nowhere. “I want peace.”

Kris’s phone buzzed.

She glanced down.

Her expression changed.

“Freeda.”

She turned the screen toward her.

SOCIETY BRIDE SUFFERS BREAKDOWN MID-CEREMONY

The room went still.

A knock broke the stillness.

They all froze.

Another knock. Not loud. Just sure.

Winnie cracked the door.

Scott stood outside.

“I didn’t follow you,” he said. “Your driver mentioned the building.”

Winnie didn’t move. “Why are you here?”

Scott looked past her until his eyes settled on Freeda.

“Because he’s on his way.”

Freeda’s stomach clenched. “Randy?”

Scott nodded. “Soon.”

Kris folded her arms. “And you think you can stop him?”

“No,” Scott said. “But I can make him think twice.”

He kept his eyes on Freeda. “Don’t answer his calls.”

Her phone buzzed on the table.

Randy. Again.

Scott didn’t even blink. “Don’t.”

Freeda stared at the screen. The vibration rattled against the wood.

She flipped the phone face down.

Silence.

Scott gave a quick nod. “Good.”

He stepped back. “I’ll be downstairs.”

He left. Freeda listened to his footsteps fade away.

Silence, again.

Then,

A sound at the door. Not knocking and testing the handle.

Winnie’s voice dropped. “He’s here.”

From the hallway, Randy’s voice slid through, calm and controlled.

“Freeda.”

No answer.

“I’m not here to argue.”

“I’m here because you walked out with something that belongs to me.”