Chapter Seven: The Morning After

The apartment was too quiet. Amelia had always imagined the morning after her wedding would begin with laughter, half-unpacked suitcases, and Ethan teasing her about how little sleep they had gotten after the reception. Instead, she woke to the shrill vibration of her phone against the bedside table in the guest room of her parents' house.

For a few seconds, she forgot. Then she opened her eyes and saw the white garment bag holding her wedding dress, hanging from the wardrobe door zipped, and untouched since yesterday. She stared at it until the phone stopped ringing, but the silence lasted only a moment before another call came through, followed immediately by another.

By the time she finally reached for the device, she had missed eleven calls and received more messages than she could count. Most came from relatives, some from friends, and others from reporters she had never even met. Rather than opening any of them, her thumb drifted almost instinctively to social media, a mistake she realized the moment the first video began playing automatically.

There she was on screen, smiling as she walked down the aisle, while a relentless wave of comments flooded beneath the clip: "She had no idea." "Poor woman." "He fooled everyone." "Men like him deserve prison." "Imagine raising another woman's child in secret."

Amelia locked the phone and placed it face down on the bed as the room suddenly felt smaller. A soft knock came at the door, and her mother entered carrying a tray with tea and toast.

"You should eat something," her mother said, setting the tray on the dresser anyway when Amelia insisted she wasn't hungry. "I know, but you haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon."

Amelia managed a tired smile. "You always know."

"It's part of the job description." Her mother sat beside her on the edge of the mattress. For several moments, neither of them spoke, the weight of the previous day hanging heavily between them.

Finally, Amelia broke the silence with the question she had been asking herself all night. "Do you think he lied to me?"

Her mother chose her words carefully. "I think something happened yesterday that none of us understand."

"That's not an answer."

"No," her mother admitted softly. "It isn't."

Amelia looked toward the window, her voice faltering. "If he'd cheated... I almost wish I could prove it."

Her mother frowned, turning to face her. "Why would you wish that?"

"Because it would make sense," Amelia said, letting out a slow, exhausted breath. "Yesterday didn't make sense."

She replayed the moment again in her mind, focusing entirely on Ethan's face. What she remembered wasn't guilt; it was confusion, pure and real. Having spent four years learning the tiny changes in his expressions, she knew them all by heart: the slight crease above his left eyebrow when he was worried, the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was embarrassed, and the way his smile vanished completely when he was trying to solve a problem. Yesterday, she had seen all three, but not once had she caught the defensive look of a man trying to hide a secret.

Her mother studied her quietly. "You still believe him."

Amelia didn't answer immediately. "I don't know what I believe anymore."

Another knock interrupted them, this one much firmer. Her father stood in the doorway with a newspaper folded beneath his arm, his grim expression telling her everything before he even spoke. "They're outside."

"Who?"

"The press. I counted seven camera crews."

Her mother closed her eyes in disbelief. "They found the house already?"

"They've been here since six."

Amelia rose from the bed and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peer through the glass. The street was lined with satellite vans, heavy camera equipment, and a crowd of reporters and photographers. One woman spoke directly into a microphone while gesturing toward the house, and a prominent headline flashed across the bottom of the broadcast: THE RUNAWAY BRIDE SPEAKS?

Amelia let the curtain fall shut. For the first time since leaving the church, she understood something that made her chest tighten. Yesterday wasn't over. It had only changed locations, and somewhere else in the city, Ethan was waking up to the very same nightmare alone, carrying the same unanswered question that refused to leave either of them.