THE SHADOW BRIDE

His grip on my arm is tight—not because he’s possessive, but like he’s afraid I might collapse. I’m not drunk, at least not anymore. After this week, alcohol has stopped numbing the ache. I only look up when we stop, and I feel the shift in the air—someone’s standing in front of us.

My stepdad leans closer and murmurs, “Avery.”

I lift my eyes slowly. It’s the first time I’ve seen this man. The expression on his face is unreadable, but behind it is grief—a kind I know too well. I don’t think he wants this. I think he wanted time to mourn his real bride…my sister.

“Please… just do this for your mom,” my stepdad whispers, then gently places my hand into that of a stranger.

The man’s hand is warm, solid, and reluctant. We turn to face the minister. He clears his throat, ready to start the ceremony. From this moment on, I’m not Avery Harper anymore. I’m stepping into the life my sister left behind. Her fiancé. Her future. Her fate. Mine is gone now—at twenty-four, I’ve buried it along with my sister.

Three months ago, I got a wedding invitation from my half-sister, Camille, whom I hadn’t heard from in over a year. We weren’t close. Honestly, she barely tolerated me, and her mother made no effort to hide her disdain. I left home right after high school, took whatever job I could find just to get away. I only stayed in contact with my stepdad, Jim. He’s the only one I’ve ever truly loved in that house.

When Camille drowned in Lake Orion five weeks before her wedding, the family was shattered. But according to some old Appalachian tradition Camille’s fiancé’s family believes in, the wedding couldn’t be canceled. Not if the bride died. They said the spirits had to be appeased. The groom had to marry someone from her bloodline—or else misfortune would curse both families. That’s when Jim came to my job, eyes bloodshot, hands shaking. He begged me to step in.

“Do you take Elias Maddox to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Silence.

The pastor’s looking at me. Everyone is.

Can I live as long as today?

I glance at Jim. His lips are pressed in a tight line. I can’t let him down. Not after everything.

“I do,” I say.

“Please face your husband.”

I force myself to turn. Elias doesn’t look at me. Just mutters his vows like they’re lines from a forgotten play. We exchange rings—no emotion, no connection, no spark.

The pastor smiles faintly. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Hell no.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Elias mutters.

Couldn’t agree more.

Everyone claps, but it’s the quietest wedding applause I’ve ever heard. The garden looks like a damn magazine spread—whoever planned this did a stellar job. The only things missing? A happy bride and a groom who gives a damn.

I don’t even make it to the first dance. I try to sneak toward the reception hall, but of course, she finds me.

“Avery,” says a voice behind me. Camille’s mother—Donna.

She grabs my arm. We’ve got nothing to say to each other. Nothing.

“You need to smile and greet your in-laws. Look sober when you cut the cake. You’re doing this for Camille.”

“I’m doing it for Jim. Not you. And not Camille.”

“She would’ve respected this man. She would’ve honored her vows.”

“Then maybe she should’ve lived to do it.”

Her face tightens, but I don’t care. They’re keeping the expensive gifts and the Maddox family’s money, but I’m the one who had to give up her life. Donna wants me to be Camille’s ghost, and I’m not interested in haunting anyone.

“Just because I’m the substitute doesn’t mean I have to be a replica,” I say, yanking my arm free.

I make my way into the hall, hiking up the ivory dress someone else picked out for me. Inside, it’s pristine. Golden chandeliers, long white-draped tables, a huge floral arrangement in the middle. A woman at the door looks startled when she sees me come in alone.

“Your seat’s in the front, sweetheart,” she says gently, pointing toward the white-and-gold sweetheart table.

I pour myself a glass of wine. Then another. The caterers keep side-eyeing me, but I don’t care. Let them judge. I’m the bride. Technically.

I’ve never had a glamorous life. I worked at a grocery store deli counter, then as a receptionist at a mechanic shop. I’d finally saved enough to take a phlebotomy course. I was on track for something better. Now it’s all dust.

People trickle in—mostly Elias’s family. A few of Jim’s cousins. Donna and her bougie church friends. I didn’t invite anyone. I didn’t want to. I didn’t even have bridesmaids. My younger cousin, Lacey, played maid of honor out of pity more than anything else.

She leans over now and whispers, “Just… keep it together, Ave. The Maddox family’s got big connections. Don’t blow this.”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

She takes the wine bottle off the table and disappears.

Then he enters—Elias Maddox.

I still don’t know what he looks like, not really. He’s tall. Broad shoulders. He walks like someone used to controlling his space. His presence is heavy, like a storm about to break. I can’t meet his eyes.

He sits beside me. Doesn’t speak.

His best man, a guy named Weston, takes the mic. He doesn’t look at me either.

“I’ll keep it short. My name’s Weston. I’ve known Elias since we were kids. This isn’t the day any of us expected. But life doesn’t ask for our permission. So… here’s to new beginnings. To holding on. And to honoring the past.”

His voice cracks at the end.

The speeches continue. Elias’s aunt stands next. She’s classy, draped in pearls.

“Eli,” she says, voice soft, “I know your heart is broken. But I want you to know—you’re not alone. We’re your family, and we love you.”

She turns to me. “Avery… I hope you feel welcome. I know it’s a lot. You look lovely.”

I nod slightly. That’s all I can offer.

Then, of course, Donna gets the mic. Here we go.

“Avery,” she says, her voice loud and sharp. “Look at your husband.”

That word—husband—makes me feel nauseous.

I glance sideways. Elias’s jaw is clenched. He still hasn’t looked at me.

“That’s the man your mother and I trusted you with,” Donna continues. “Love him. Serve him. And give him the children Camille was supposed to. Am I clear?”

I nod, jaw locked.

I can respect him. That’s easy. I can support him, too. But love? That’s not something I can fake. Not for this man. Not for anyone.

The speeches end. I finally get my phone back. While the guests sip cocktails and nibble shrimp, I sneak a glance at my messages. Sierra, my old coworker—and the closest thing I have to a best friend—has been blowing up my phone.

Call me. Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

I call her back when no one’s looking.

“You good?” she asks as soon as she answers.

“I survived,” I say flatly.

“You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve come to Charlotte. We could’ve figured it out.”

“It’s not about the money, Sierra. Not this time. It’s… cultural. Complicated.”

“Do you even like the guy?”

I glance at Elias. Still brooding. Still distant.

“I don’t even know him,” I admit. “But I married him anyway.”

I hang up quickly when I see Donna storming toward me again.

“Really?” she snaps. “On your phone again? This isn’t some backyard BBQ. Put it away. And if you’ve got a boyfriend back home, block him. You’re married now.”

I don’t answer. I just tuck my phone into the folds of the dress.

She leans in closer. “I know your mom was just some waitress Jim couldn’t keep his pants zipped for. But try not to embarrass yourself. Or him.”

I force a smile. The kind that says, I’ve heard this before, and I’m still standing.

What she doesn’t know is—there’s more to Elias than she realizes. More than any of us realize. Something that howls under the surface, something old. Ancient. Wild.

And I just said I do to it.

But not today. Today I’m just a girl in someone else’s dress, living someone else’s life.

And pretending I’m not afraid.