Now I stood in front of the mirror in the dress room for brides, my lace gown clinging to me, my veil poured delicately over my hair. My hands trembled against the silk. I whispered to myself, “This is the beginning of my new life. No one can take this away from me.”

I inhaled and exhaled

The hall below glimmered with chandeliers and crystal. Guests gathered, dressed in shades of cream and gold, their murmurs like buzzing flies. Some pitied me, others envied me, but all eyes would be on me. I held my chin higher, ignoring the tightness in my chest, the faint ache in my belly that had been haunting me since morning.

I heard the priest’s voice rise from the hall to usher me in. From the steady and calm, just as the music softened. “We are gathered here today…”

Then it happened.

The speakers overhead crackled, a sharp burst of static that made everyone glance upward. At first, I thought it was nothing…just an accident. But then..

A man’s voice. Deep, rough and familiar.

“God, you’re sweeter than her…”

Gasps rippled through the hall. My blood froze.

Another sound followed, unmistakable moans, breathless, urgent. Then a woman’s laugh, low and cruel.

“She could never make you feel this way,” the voice continued, clear as day. Damian’s voice.

The hall erupted into chaos. Guests leaned into one another, whispering, covering their mouths, eyes darting toward me. Heat climbed into my face, shame wrapping around my throat like a rope.

“No,” I whispered, my chest tightening. “It’s a mistake. Someone’s playing a trick.”

But the speakers roared again.

“Harder, Damian…don’t stop. Forget Althea. She’s nothing compared to me.”

The voice was hers. Elara.

I couldn’t breathe. My vision blurred as I staggered back, clutching the side of the gown. Laughter, moans, the sound of their betrayal, pouring from the speakers while my wedding unraveled before hundreds of eyes.

“No,” I whispered again, this time louder, my heart hammering. “No!”

I ran. I didn’t wait for the priest or the whispers or the stares. I gathered my gown in my fists and ran, my shoes slamming against marble floors, the veil tearing loose as I tore through the corridor, my breath ragged.

The bridal suite door was half-shut. I shoved it open.

And there they were.

Damian and Elara. Twisted together on the bed, bodies slick with sweat, his mouth on her throat, her legs tangled around him. He didn’t even stop when I burst in. He looked at me, and for a split second..only a split second, there was no shame in his eyes. Just hunger.

Elara’s head turned slowly. Her lips were curved into a smirk as she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, “You’ll never compare.”

A sharp pain tore through me. I gasped, clutching my belly as heat spilled down my thighs. Blood. My gown was no longer pure white, it bloomed red across the lace.

“No… no, no, no…” My voice cracked, trembling as my knees buckled.

Then memory crashed over me.

Elara, hours ago, pressing a glass of juice into my hands. “Drink, sister,” she had said, her smile too wide. “It will calm your nerves.” I had hesitated, but she pushed until I gave in.

And now I knew.

The juice, The poison. The ache that had been gnawing at me since morning was not nerves. It was death blooming inside me.

I clutched my stomach as I felt the life of my unborn child slipping away. My vision blurred with tears, but through it I saw her, Elara, watching me from the bed, her lips curved in triumph.

She smirked.

I collapsed to the floor, my hands sticky with blood, Damian’s voice muffled in the distance, Elara’s laugh echoing in my ears. The sound chased me into the darkness, cruel and victorious.

And then..nothing.