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The cold wedding

Author: Onyes
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-08-11 22:44:55
The Orada Sea held its breath the morning of the wedding.

No birds. No wind. Only a slate ribbon of water that swallowed the horizon, cold as a verdict. I stood at the balcony and watched it, fingers tracing the scar on my wrist until the skin remembered pain. Amara Veyron would dissolve today into silk and vows; something in me unstitched with her.

Marcella arrived at dawn. She didn’t cry or fuss; she handed me a crisp envelope as if passing a bill. Her silver-blonde hair was pulled into a coil that tasted of restraint. “The library is secure,” she said, tapping the contract as if it were a promise and a weapon. “Your mother’s collection remains—so long as you play the part. My cut is mine. The library is yours.”

Relief flashed like a breach of light and then dimmed. Mama’s books were safe. They wanted the rest of me.

They began with my hair. Marcella pinned the platinum wig into place with a surgeon’s calm, tugging until skin stretched and tears rose uninvited. “Selene’s hair never f
Onyes

What broke you harder: the suffocating stillness of the Orada Sea at dawn (Amara’s funeral for herself)… or the suffocating applause at the glass chapel (her funeral disguised as marriage)?

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