Chapter 2: Meeting with Him

 

 

Chapter Two: Meeting with Him

 

**Valerie’s POV**

 

“Vale, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t marry you. I love Cynthia. We decided to move on together. Don’t try to find us. You’ll move on, you always do. Oh…and don’t bother looking for the properties and your credit scores you trusted me with. They’re gone too. I’ll put them to better use.”

 

 

 

This wasn’t just abandonment, it was theft. It was betrayal wearing Michael’s handwriting, Michael’s careless grammar, Michael’s smug little arrogance tucked into the loops of every letter.

 

 

 

How did I not see this coming? What blinded me so much that I couldn’t see that Michael and Cynthia were having an affair and plotting to humiliate me?

 

 

 

The pounding of my pulse in my ears was loud enough to drown the hymn still playing faintly in the background. Who in God’s name is still playing a hymn like the wedding is still going on? Who? Why are they all trying to humiliate me?

 

 

 

The paper shook in my hands as I squeezed it tightly.

 

 

 

I was angry, raging, wishing I could see Michael now and tear him apart. Heaven knows that they will welcome me into the kingdom if I dare see Cynthia right now.

 

 

 

With all my anger and rage, I was also ashamed.

 

 

 

I couldn’t even dare stand up from the altar where I knelt.

 

 

 

How the hell am I supposed to face my friends again? Oh goodness! I should have trusted Anna’s instincts, it was always right.

 

 

 

 “Vale…”

 

 

 

John’s voice broke through, fragile, trembling. He stood just above me, his face pale, his hand hesitant, hovering like he wasn’t sure if touching me would make me shatter completely.

 

 

 

“Vale… let me… let me see it.”

 

 

 

My lips parted, but nothing came out, just silence, raw and jagged.

 

 

 

My hands were numb, fingers stiff and unfeeling, like they didn’t belong to me anymore. They barely resisted when John pried the paper from them.

 

 

 

He unfolded it slowly as though it were some sacred relic, when in truth it was the blade still lodged in my chest.

 

 

 

His eyes scanned each line, and I knew the blood drain from his face. His lips moved soundlessly, shaping the words I had just swallowed like poison.

 

 

 

For a moment, he just stared at me, with sadness in his eyes, he must have had no idea that his friend was up to no good. He stared back at the letter, and then he stood up, paced the altar a bit more and then he addressed the guests.

 

 

 

His voice cracked, raw and thin at first before he forced it louder, carrying over the murmurs that had already started rippling through the pews.

 

 

 

“…The wedding…” He swallowed hard, tried again, firmer. “The wedding is cancelled.”.

 

 

 

Gasps burst across the congregation. I turned to them, watching how they reacted to the news.  A woman near the back clutched her rosary and crossed herself. Somewhere, a child whimpered before being shushed. Another guest, bolder, raised a phone; the sharp click of a camera shutter sliced through the silence, obscene in its finality.

 

 

 

They started moving away gradually.

 

 

 

I could hear the uneasy shifting of silk dresses, the scrape of chair legs, the awkward coughs of people too polite to flee but too uncomfortable to linger and then the trickle turned to a tide.

 

 

 

They rose, slowly, guiltily, almost apologetically and began to file out.

 

 

 

I sat there, frozen, watching my own life unravel in designer heels and lace wedding dress as one by one, they abandoned me.

 

 

 

Anna and the girls came towards me,

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, Valerie” Anna said.

 

 

 

I could hear Gabriella sniffing as she couldn’t bare but to cry for me.

 

 

 

They were confused on how to console me, of course that have never experienced this, so they don’t have the experience on what to say. What could they say? They looked almost afraid, as though my pain might spread if they stood too close.

 

 

 

They looked at one another, some silent agreement passing between them, and I knew their decision before they moved.

 

 

 

They thought giving me space was the best thing, they thought I needed space to overcome whatever hurt I felt.

 

 

 

If only they knew what I needed right now was a hug. I miss my papa so much!

 

 

 

I wish he was here, I wish I hadn’t acted like the independent daughter of his who wanted to do her late mother’s wish alone by moving to Mexico.

 

 

 

In a few minutes, it was quiet, everyone had left the church and I was left alone, just me and God.

 

 

 

Why would God allow Michael and Cynthia humiliate me this way in church? Why?

 

 

I cried until I was certain there was nothing left of me but salt water, shame, and the shattered remnants of a woman once called a bride.

 

Shortly after, I heard a deliberate and sharp throat clearing from the pews.

 

Who the heck is still in the church? They enjoy the sound of my cry, huh?

 

My fingers clenched the lace fabric of my dress, and with blurry vision, I forced myself to look up.

 

Three figures stood before me.

 

Two men and a woman, all dressed in black from head to toe. Not a single hint of color, not even a glint of emotion. They looked like they’d walked straight out of a funeral.

 

For a moment, I wondered if I’d died. Had I screamed so loudly, broken so violently, that my soul had snapped free of my body? Were they here to take me away? The grim reapers in chic suits?

 

But the pain I felt said otherwise, the ache in my chest, the icy hollowness in my gut wasn’t death.

 

One of the men looked sharper and more fiercely handsome, but that didn’t matter to be right now. His dark eyes narrowed at me, his brow creased in something between disgust and fury. He looked at me like I was a mess he didn’t have time for.

 

But I didn’t flinch, I didn’t care, maybe I was too loud and they were performing a ritual.

 

I bowed my head again, ignoring them.

 

“I’m going to find Michael Sebastine,” I whispered,

“I’m going to find him… and I’m going to kill him.”