I stood just inside the room, the heavy silk of the wedding gown still clinging to my damp skin. The drunk man’s shouts from downstairs echoed in my head. I turned to face him, my new husband, and forced the words out. "What was the drama about? Who was that drunk man, and what did he mean when he said 'You stole my bride'?" He leaned against the closed door, steel-blue eyes steady on mine. "He's nobody, you have nothing to worry about. Forget it. He was just drunk. Drunk people say stupid things." I searched his face, looking for the lie I felt was there. His words sounded smooth, but his jaw stayed tight and his eyes didn’t quite hold mine the way they had during the kiss. I didn’t believe him. The man had looked too similar, sounded too angry, and security had moved fast. Doubts swirled hot in my chest. But pushing right now felt dangerous. The crack in my walls from the kiss was still there, raw and confusing. I decided to let it go for the moment. One battle at a time. I look
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