CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

HEAVEN’s POV

I was crammed into the opulent dressing room, surrounded by silks and satins that felt more like chains than bridal attire. My heart was a storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, heartbreak—all swirling into a tempest that threatened to tear me apart from the inside. The dress I was being forced into felt like a straightjacket, binding me to a fate I never chose.The wedding dress felt like a shackle, each lace detail, a testament to my suffocating reality. My hands shook, not from the anticipation of joy but from the desperation of a trapped soul seeking escape.

My life, once so full of promise and dreams, had crumbled to dust in the span of a few weeks, and now I was being pushed into a marriage with Adrian, a man I didn’t know at all, all because of my sister's selfish actions.

In a moment of desperation, I scanned the room for an escape, craning my head this way and that—an action that created an inconvenience for the make up artist, but if she was frustrated, she didn’t complain.

I was uncomfortable, to say the least, it felt like room was closing in on me. I could barely breathe. I let out a deep sigh, pushing away the thought of what my life had turned into to the back of my head.

I figured there was no way I’d be able to escape from this room with all these people clamoring around at my service, wearing huge smiles on their faces that were a reflection to my now repugnant fate.

“Excuse me,” I said, loud enough for everybody in the room to hear, then I stood up, rushing out of the room. The puzzled look on their faces was glaring with unasked questions, but they chose to remain silent, pinning their eyes on me as I exited the dressing room.

I walked down the hallway, taking a left turn. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I needed to leave this place at the earliest. I just couldn’t sit in my hands and have them give me out to charity.

I tried to quicken my pace, but the stupid train of the dress wouldn’t stop threatening to tip me over. I found a room at some corner, turning on the knob. And surprisingly, it was open. I hurried into it, bolting it shut from the inside.

I rushed into the bathroom, spotting a small window I could escape through. A smile crept into my face. But my hopes were dashed as quickly as they had arisen. Guards, stone-faced and imposing, stood out directly outside. God! They were everywhere! My heart sank as I realized there was no way out. This was my reality now, a cruel joke at my expense.

Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse, as I made my way out of the bathroom, Avery was sitted on the bed, her smile as sharp as a knife's edge. She was the picture of satisfaction, having successfully stolen my dream life right from under my nose. Her presence was a physical reminder of my loss, and I struggled to keep the tears at bay.

"Oh, do enjoy your time with Adrian," she taunted, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy that thinly veiled her gloating. "It’s such a shame your dream life is now with a disabled man. But then, you always were the compassionate type, weren’t you?"

Her words were like venom, each syllable designed to wound.

“But his good looks are like some compensation, you know? But what’s the use of a marriage when you can’t even be happy,” she chortled and I chose to keep quiet, as any word uttered will cause my tears to storm, causing me obloquy even further.

She reveled in my pain, basking in the chaos she'd caused. It was then, looking into her smug, triumphant face, that the full weight of my situation settled upon my shoulders. Avery had not only stolen my fiancé and got herself pregnant with his child, but she had also ensured my humiliation by leaving me to marry the man she was supposed to.

The injustice of it all was overwhelming. Adrian, the man who now awaited me at the altar, was a stranger. I knew him only as the man my sister had callously discarded in favor of her own desires. And though society labeled him as disabled, in my heart, I knew that the true disability lay in Avery's lack of morality and empathy. The realization stung, but it also brought a moment of clarity. Avery may have thought she had won, but in taking everything from me, she revealed the depth of her own emptiness.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I faced Avery with a quiet dignity I didn't feel. “Enjoy your victory, Avery,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “But remember, happiness built on someone else's pain is like a house built on sand. It will never stand.”

With that, I turned away from her, the heavy fabric of my dress whispering against the floor as I moved towards the inevitable. Today, I was marrying a man I didn't choose, but I vowed to myself that this wouldn't be the end of my story. Somehow, someway, I would find happiness again—not as Heaven, the woman scorned, but as Heaven, the woman who overcame.

~•~

The wedding hall was themed white. Avery's favorite color was white. My heart pounded against my chest as I was unwillingly led down to the alter, my father by my side. The soft tune of the piano filled the air, strangers dashing small smiles my way; gestures that didn’t seem to wane my discomfort

I had pictured how my wedding would go. I had daydreamed about it countless times. About the dress, the theme color, the cake, the music, and then my groom, waiting for me at the alter, standing beside the priest as he patiently awaited my arrival, his eyes smiling and filled with adoration.

All my hopes and dreams had been shattered by my sister's recent actions, the shards coming back to cause me unseen wounds. Neither of what I had hoped for my wedding was happening. Not the dress, not the theme color, and definitely not the groom.

Oh, right, the groom. For the first time ever, since all the wedding ceremonies I had witnessed, the groom was not waiting for the bride at the alter. Infact, he was nowhere to be found.

Could it be that he had changed his mind about marrying and left?

God, please let it be so.

I was dropped at the alter by my father and turned to look at the priest. My stomach churned as I assessed the hundreds of men and women that had originally come to witness Adrian Miller and Avery get married. The guests were putting on red. The ladies wore red dresses and the men wore red shirts with black ties, blazers or vests, all looking like demons, smiling at the expense of ill fate. They were all seated, facing the alter, their gazes making all the more uncomfortable. They weren't aware about the bride switch up, but the groom was. Although, by the way dad had narrated it, he was definitely not happy.

My breaths came in shallow bursts as I fought the urge to turn and flee. The priest, an older man with kind eyes, offered me a small, reassuring smile, but it did nothing to ease the knot of dread lodged firmly in my stomach.

I stood there, feeling like a lamb led to slaughter, draped in a dress that was never meant for me. It was Avery’s dream wedding dress, an exquisite creation of lace and silk that she had chosen with glistening eyes and a radiant smile. Yet, there I was, wearing it like a costume, an imposter playing the role of the bride. The stark white of the dress contrasted sharply with the sea of red around me, making me feel all the more isolated and exposed.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching out endlessly as the murmur of confused whispers began to ripple through the gathered crowd. I caught snippets of speculation, veiled concern, and barely concealed excitement at the unexpected drama unfolding before them. In the midst of it all, I felt lost, a spectator in my own life, watching as my carefully constructed dreams crumbled around me.

Then, the double doors at the back of the hall creaked open, and every head turned as one. I held my breath, half in fear, half in desperate hope. The murmurs grew louder, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. Instead, my gaze stayed fixed on the intricately woven pattern of the aisle carpet, as if it held the answer to my turmoil.

The sound of footsteps approached, deliberate and unhurried, each step echoing like a pronouncement in the silent hall. My heart raced, caught between the desire to see and the fear of what—or whom—I might find.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, I lifted my gaze and met the eyes of the man who would be my husband.

The whispers had painted Adrian as someone who would be wheeled down to the altar, but the man I saw was no figure of frailty. Instead, there he stood, as tall and imposing as the rumors were misleading. His presence seemed to demand attention, and the air around him vibrated with authority. How had the tales gotten so twisted? The contrast was jarring, and as my eyes took in his form—the sharp suit that hugged his body, showing off a muscular physique, the piercing grey eyes that seemed to assess everything with a single glance—confusion flooded me.

The realization that my sister's meddling had thrown me into a path directly aligned with this... this enigmatic CEO, rather than a life of caring for a disabled husband, was bewildering. Why had she done it? Was this switch a mere twist of fate or a meticulously planned event? And more importantly, why did Adrian Miller, with all his apparent allure and power, agree to this sudden switch?

As I stood there, my thoughts a tangled mess, Adrian Miller's steps towards me were measured, each one echoing in the suddenly hushed room. The intensity in his eyes did not waver as he took my hand in his. The contact sent an unexpected shiver down my spine, jolting me back to the present.

"We need to talk, but after we fulfill our roles in this farce," he murmured so softly, only I could hear, his breath tickling my ear.

We both exchanged rings and repeated whatever the priest asked us to. It wasn't a love marriage. I and Adrian did not have vows planned for one another. As the priest said the dreadful five words, I wanted to grounds to swallow me whole.

"You may kiss the bride." Kiss? I was to share a kiss with this man? I stared wide eyed at the man before me, watching in horror as he leaned in to kiss me, his arm loosely wrapped around my waist. I wired my eyes shut , my heart racing as I felt his face close to mine. Warm lips pressed to the corner of my mouth, sending both a jolt through my ribcage and a rush of relief at the same time.

Kissing was something extremely intimate for me. I was glad he didn't kiss me on the lips. I opened my eyes and immediately found his gaze. His face was still inches away from mine, his piercing grey eyes staring directly into my eyes. It felt like he was staring into my freaking soul. As he pulled back and stood up straight, I couldn't help but stare.

Who was Adrian Miller, truly? And what role was I to play in this unexpected twist of fate? My family, too, was visibly shaken, their faces a mix of shock and bewilderment. They, like me, had been swept up in the currents of change, unprepared and clueless about what the future held.

God help me. What had I gotten myself into?