Chapter 7 The wedding that never was

The morning of my wedding came quietly, without excitement or joy.

Melissa burst into my room early, all perfume and false enthusiasm. “Rose, darling, today’s the big day!” she sang, her voice sugar-coated but sharp beneath. “Make sure you look perfect, dear. The Millers have such high standards.”

Anna followed behind her, pretending to fix her hair in the mirror. “Yes, you must look presentable at least. It would be such a shame if you embarrassed us today.”

I said nothing. I let the makeup artist do her work while my thoughts drifted somewhere far away. The veil sat heavy on my head, the gown a little too tight at the waist. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw not a bride, but a stranger dressed for a performance she didn’t audition for.

When we arrived at the church, the entire place gleamed in white and gold. The scent of fresh roses filled the air. Everyone was smiling, laughing, whispering. Cameras flashed.

But I felt nothing.

As I stepped out of the car, I noticed a young woman standing near the entrance. She was strikingly beautiful—dark hair, perfect posture, a face that belonged in a painting. She wasn’t dressed like the guests, though. Her expression was hard, her eyes fixed not on me, but on Sean, who was standing near the groomsmen.

Sean looked… unsettled. His usual calm demeanor faltered when he caught her gaze. His jaw tightened, his eyes flickered with something between recognition and discomfort. I watched the silent exchange between them, but said nothing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t my concern. Not today.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

The ceremony began soon after. I walked down the aisle beside my father, his hand heavy on mine.

“You look beautiful, Rose,” he murmured, not out of affection, but duty. “Make sure today goes smoothly. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

I nodded slightly. My eyes moved to Connor, standing at the altar in his tailored suit. He looked every bit the perfect groom, tall, confident, unbothered. When our eyes met, his face was expressionless. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even try.

The priest began to speak, and I let his voice wash over me, meaningless words carried through air too thick to breathe.

And then, just as Connor opened his mouth to say his vows, the sound of heels echoed through the hall.

A voice, sharp and furious, cut through the silence.

“Stop this wedding!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Heads turned. Cameras flashed.

It was her, the same woman I’d seen with him at the restaurant.

She stormed down the aisle, her face red with rage.

“How dare you stand here and pretend to marry her?” she shouted, pointing at Connor. “You promised me! You said you loved me!”

A murmur swept through the guests. Connor’s face went pale. He stepped back instinctively.

“Lydia, this isn’t the time,” he muttered under his breath, but she was relentless.

“No, I won’t be silent!” she cried. “You told me you’d leave her! You told me she meant nothing to you!” Her voice trembled with emotion. “You can’t marry her, Connor. Not after everything we’ve shared.”

The entire hall erupted in whispers and gasps. My father’s face turned red, Melissa looked mortified, and Anna… Anna was grinning.

Connor ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Lydia, please,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re making a scene.”

“I don’t care!” she shouted. “You’re mine!”

I just stood there, motionless. My heart didn’t even race. There was no shock left in me, only the cold certainty that this was exactly the kind of ending my father’s deal had bought me.

Without another word, Connor dropped the ring he was holding, turned, and walked out of the church.

Lydia ran after him, tears streaking down her cheeks.

The sound of the doors slamming behind them echoed through the hall, long and heavy.

For a moment, silence blanketed everything. The priest shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Guests began whispering again, pity and curiosity flickering across their faces like shadows.

I stood there still, alone at the altar, in front of hundreds of people.

Then Megan Miller, my would-be mother-in-law, rose from her seat and hurried to me. Her face was pale, eyes full of sympathy. She wrapped her arms around me softly.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” she whispered. “I had no idea…”

Her kindness made something ache in my chest, but I forced a small smile. “It’s alright,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to apologize for him.”

Sean stepped forward then, calm as ever. His voice carried easily across the room.

“Everyone, please enjoy the refreshments in the hall,” he said firmly. “The ceremony is over.”

His tone left no room for gossip or pity. For that, I was grateful.

As the guests began to file out slowly, I caught sight of Anna near the front pew. She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, smirking.

“Looks like karma’s quicker than I thought,” she said softly, just loud enough for me to hear.

I turned to her, expression blank. “You must be thrilled,” I said.

Her smile widened. “Thrilled? No. Just amused. After all, you were never meant to have what doesn’t belong to you.”

I met her gaze evenly, then looked away. “You give yourself too much importance, Anna.”

She frowned slightly, expecting me to argue, to cry, to react but I didn’t. I simply walked past her, my veil brushing her arm as I went.

The sound of her frustrated scoff behind me was the only victory I needed that day.

Later, at home, my father paced the living room, his face tight with anger.

“This is not the end, Rose,” he said sharply. “You’ll talk to the Millers. Fix this. Men make mistakes, that’s all. What matters is that he comes home to you in the end.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re saying it’s normal? That I should just accept being humiliated like that?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “You’re being dramatic. Every man has another woman. What’s important is stability. Our company depends on this marriage.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You really think that’s what’s important right now?”

“Don’t talk back to me,” he snapped. “You don’t understand how business works. You’ll apologize if you have to.”

I looked at him then not as my father, but as the man who had traded my freedom for his reputation.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel fear when he raised his voice. Just disappointment.

“You know,” I said quietly, “I used to think you did all this because you wanted what was best for me. But now I see you only ever wanted what was best for you.”

His jaw tightened, but I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and walked away.

Upstairs, I removed the veil, the jewelry, the shoes every symbol of the life I had almost been forced into.

Each piece fell to the floor with a soft sound, like the closing of a chapter.

When I looked in the mirror again, my reflection was stripped bare, no performance.

Just me.