The Price Of Trust

Myla POV:

At twenty-three, I knew exactly what I wanted: to marry the love of my life and start my own family. Today was my wedding day—a day I had dreamt of since I was a little girl.

I stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the lace of my wedding dress. My hands trembled, not with excitement but with a feeling I couldn't explain. I had dreamt of this moment for years —walking down the aisle to the man I loved, the man I was about to marry. Today was supposed to be perfect.

My fiancé, Damien Brooks, is the love of my life. We met three years ago, and it was love at first sight for the both of us. In a few hours, we will finally be husband and wife.

My breath hitched as I looked at my reflection. The dress was breathtaking, hugging my curves perfectly, with the train flowing behind me like soft waves. My dark hair was styled elegantly, framing my face, and the veil rested gently over my head. For a moment, I felt like a princess. 

“ Are you ready, darling?” my mother's voice interrupted, pulling me from my thoughts. Vanessa Calloway stood in the doorway, her eyes gleaming with joy. She wore a bright smile, though it trembled slightly as she fought back her tears. 

I nodded, forcing a smile. “ Ready as I'll ever be.”

She stepped into the room, inspecting the dress. “It’s beautiful, Myla. You look just like I did on my wedding day. Damien will be blown away when he sees you.”

I swallowed hard, trying to push the knot of nervousness from my chest. “ I just want everything to be perfect.” 

Vanessa reached out, adjusting the veil, her fingers gentle. “ It will be, darling. Don't worry.”

But as I stared at my reflection, a strange feeling settled over me. It wasn't my dress or the ceremony that made me scared—it was something deeper, a feeling in my guts that today was not going to unfold as planned. But what could possibly go wrong?

~~~

We arrived safely at the church. The wedding arrangements were in full swing. Guests were beginning to fill the church, the flowers were arranged in beautiful patterns, and soft music played in the background. The air was thick with excitement and anticipation. 

My Father, a tall, handsome figure, walked beside me with a proud smile on his face. He held my hands, reassuringly, but his eyes flickered with a hint of nervousness. We both felt the tension; it had been building for days. I wish Cynthia, my best friend, was here, but she had traveled out of town for a business trip.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as I made my way down the aisle. I glanced at the empty seats where Damien's parents— his father, Michael, and his mother, Susan— were supposed to sit in the front row, smiling proudly as they watched their son marry the love of his life. But they weren't there. I swept my gaze over the empty chairs again, fear creeping in instantly.

" Why aren't Damien's parents here?" I muttered under my breath, feeling uneasy.

My father noticed my hesitation and stepped closer. " It's strange," he admitted quietly. " I spoke to Damien's father last night. He said they'd be here on time."

" Did he say anything else?" I asked, my voice trembling.

" He sounded... distracted. But he didn't mention anything that would indicate they wouldn't show up today. You know how they are, Myla. They are always quiet, reserved, but never late."

I couldn't shake off the fear knotting in my stomach. Why haven't Damien's parents come? Michael Brooks had always been a man of his words— his punctuality was something I admired about him. So why did they disappear without a word?

"Did they know something I didn't?" I wondered, as fear slowly began to settle in.

My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Damien’s face. But he wasn't here either. 

I stood at the altar, waiting, feeling the weight of the deafening silence pressing down on me. The guests whispered among themselves. The priest waited patiently, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Damien and his family were always punctual. So why haven't they shown up yet?

Minutes passed, and the tension in the air grew. My father, trying to keep up appearances, leaned in. “ They'll be here soon. Calm down, Myla.” 

I forced a smile, but inside, the knot in my stomach tightened. I glanced at the wall clock — they were late. Very late. My heart hammered in my chest. Was something wrong? Were they having second thoughts? 

Minutes turned into hours, and still, Damien didn't arrive.

“ Damien, where are you?” I whispered under my breath, the question slipping out before I could even stop it. 

But no one had an answer.

Finally the priest cleared his throat. “ Shall we proceed?” 

My chest tightened. “ No,” I whispered. “I can't.” 

I turned, glancing at my father. “ Where's Damien? Why isn't he here yet?

He opened his mouth, but no words came. His face turned pale, his lips pressed into a thin line. The truth could no longer be denied. Damien and his family were no longer coming. My hands began to tremble, my fingers slipping nervously against the fabric of my dress. 

Minutes turned into agonizing hours. Every tick of the clock was a hammer to my chest. The whispers among the guests grew louder. Why wasn't Damien here? Was he stuck in traffic? Was he hurt? 

A thousand terrible thoughts raced through my mind.

I excused myself from the altar, my legs trembling as I walked toward the back of the church. The whispers grew louder, and I could feel every pair of eyes following me.

" Dad," I whispered, my voice barely audible, and overwhelmed by fear. 

"Damien isn't coming. And mom... She's still not here."

My father, who had been trying to maintain his calm demeanor, furrowed his brows as he exchanged a glance with the ushers nearby. His jaw tightened. " I'll go find her," he said sharply, already taking a step toward the door.

" No," I interrupted, stepping in his path. " Dad, wait."

His eyes softened slightly, but his concern was obvious. " Myla, this is your wedding day. You shouldn’t be running around like this. Let me handle it.”

"Dad, please,” I interrupted.

 “Damien isn’t here, and I need to find him. And mom’s probably just running late.”

“Myla…” He hesitated, his tone softening. “Are you sure? This is your wedding day. Let me—”

“I’m sure,” I said, cutting him off again. “I have to do this.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally sighed. “Fine.” He handed me the keys, his grip lingering for a second. “Be careful. And call me if you find anything—anything at all.”

“I will,” I promised, though the knot in my stomach told me I wouldn’t be calling with good news.

I stepped out of the church, the warm air outside feeling suffocating against my skin. Sliding into the car, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

Why hadn’t Damien shown up? My mind raced, desperate to piece together a reason that didn’t involve the worst.

I started the engine, the sound matching the rapid beat of my heart. Whatever was going on, I had to find him. I drove through the streets of the city to Damien's townhouse, each second of the journey felt like an eternity.

When I arrived at Damien's townhouse, my hands were shaking so violently, I almost couldn't unlock the front door. Finally, I managed to push it open. 

“ Damien?” I called softly, unsure of what to expect.

No answer.

My footsteps echoed as I entered the house, the place we had picked out together—the place I had imagined our future.

The silence was suffocating.

" Damien?" I called again, my voice breaking. Still, there was no reply.

I hurried up the staircase, each step echoed like the ticking of a time bomb. My eyes scanned the dimly lit hallway, but it was the noise from his bedroom that caught my attention.

A soft moan.

My heart stopped. No!. This isn't happening. My blood ran cold. I didn't bother to knock, I pushed open the door. 

The moment I walked into the room, my heart felt like it was ripped apart.

There, in the dimly lit room, I saw my mother—Vanessa—on top of Damien,her hands gripping his shoulders, and her head thrown back in pleasure.

My breath was knocked out of my lungs.

My mother’s mouth opened in a gasp, her fingers gripping Damien's hair as she rode him. Damien’s face, the face that should have been standing at the altar, was contorted in pleasure.

The room seemed to blur around me as the crushing reality hit me hard. 

A soft gasp escaped my lips, but neither of them stopped. Not until Vanessa turned her head, her eyes meeting mine.

My legs gave out as I stumbled back, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move.

Vanessa's eyes flickered towards me and the time seemed to stop. There was no apology, no regret in her eyes.

I sobbed uncontrollably until my chest ached, and my breath came in ragged gasps. Tears spilled freely, blurring my vision.

This could not be real.

But it was.

“ Mom… how could you?” I wailed, my voice hoarse with disbelief.

Vanessa, still straddling Damien, turned to face me. Her lips parted, but there was no shame in her eyes—just a coldness that froze me in place.

“You should have known better, Myla,” my mother said, arching her eyebrows. “I’ve always wanted him. You were just a stepping stone.”