The Vows We Fake
The ceremony moved on, dragging me with it like a prisoner in chains.
“Do you, Zane Blackwood,” the priest intoned, “take Sera Voss to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
The words echoed off the vaulted ceilings. My lungs burned. I waited for him to say no and to look at me, just once, and choose the truth of what lay between us.
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