Ugliest Nightmare

Ethan arrived shortly after, his presence cold and commanding as always.

His expression didn't soften when he looked at Elara. His gaze assessed, judged, and calculated.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

His voice was smooth, low, the kind of calm tone people mistook for kindness until they discovered the steel underneath.

Elara rolled her eyes, small but defiant, and replied, "If I said I'm not ready, would you let me go?"

The question hung between them, sharp, bitter, and honest.

Ethan was startled, only slightly, but enough. Not by the words themselves but by the tone, the attitude, the unapologetic boldness that accompanied them.

Since the previous day, something about Elara had changed.

The way she behaved, her personality, even the subtle way she held herself, straight spine, chin raised, everything was different.

She had become defiant, rude in their eyes, and spoke back to them, which was completely unlike her former self.

Even after beating her the night before, Elara was still defiant and rude, unlike before.

The Elara they knew would have bowed her head, apologized even when she had done nothing wrong, shrinking herself to fit into the tiny space they allowed her.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, because he preferred control and hated unpredictability, he said curtly, "Let's go."

The doors began to open.

Elara's heart pounded, and then steadied into something like resolve.

She glanced around as they entered the chapel. As violin and piano music began to play, soft yet heavy, wrapping the room in a romantic illusion, all eyes turned toward the entrance.

Phones were lifted discreetly to take pictures and videos. Every gaze was suddenly fixed on her.

Everyone had to admit... Elara looked stunning and out of place.

Despite minimal makeup, she radiated beauty with an eerie calmness, and her dress was fitting in more ways than one.

She wore a long-sleeved wedding gown that covered her entire body, concealing the bruises beneath her skin, hiding the purple maps of pain etched across her arms and back.

The fabric was snug against her injuries, brushing tender skin, pressing against burns and bruises that still throbbed beneath the lace.

Every step sent a ripple of discomfort through her body, but she walked anyway, her chin raised, and her expression calm.

Yet, she was in immense pain; the tight gown aggravated her injuries, the corset squeezing her already sore ribs.

Still, gritting her teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of them, she walked down the aisle.

The crowd applauded, smiled, and cheered, faces glowing with excitement, blissfully unaware or purposely ignorant of the storm raging behind her eyes.

People leaned to whisper compliments... "She's beautiful."

"What a perfect match!"

"Such a lucky girl!"

While others smirked knowingly, aware of the fortune entwined in those vows.

Elara's expression remained blank, an almost bored calmness etched into her features, as if she had detached herself from her body and was merely watching events unfold like a distant observer.

Emotionless and untouched. A doll dressed in white.

A bride walking toward a future not of her choosing.

Upon reaching the altar, Ethan stopped and looked down at her, his hand tightening momentarily around hers before he released it.

Following tradition, he turned toward Aaron, the exchange symbolic and suffocating.

He handed her over.

Before Aaron could take her hand, before his fingers could curl possessively around hers as if sealing his claim, Elara swiftly pulled hers back, the movement swift and precise.

She clutched her bouquet instead, her knuckles whitening around the stems.

Aaron's eyes darkened with anger, a flash of fury crossing his face so quickly most would have missed it.

His jaw clenched, muscles working beneath his skin. His fists closed tightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

But he restrained himself. Because the chapel was full. Because every eye was watching. Because appearances mattered... for now.

He leaned closer, smile plastered on for the guests, his voice low and angry, barely moving his lips.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Elara?" he hissed.

Elara tilted her head slightly, her lips curving in the faintest hint of mockery. Her voice was just as soft, but laced with ice. "Holding my bouquet," she replied. "Isn't that what brides do?"

Aaron's nostrils flared. He was about to lose it but...

The priest cleared his throat gently, trying to maintain the flow of the ceremony, unaware - or pretending to be - that beneath the white lace and polished smiles, a war was silently raging.

Elara stood tall, her heart racing but spirit unyielding.

The chapel may have been filled with applause and blessings and expectations, with people convinced they were witnessing a beautiful union...

...but Elara knew the truth.

This wedding, the one they were hanging onto so desperately, the one they thought would bind her forever and steal what was hers...

She would make it their ugliest nightmare.