explanation. Or lack thereof. On one hand, I wanted to know everything. On the other hand, I just wanted Sofia to walk out of my life forever.
“No, Sofia,” I said after a moment. My voice was quiet. Controlled. Firm.
“You just don’t like that you got caught.”
A choked sound escaped her lips. A mix of rage, humiliation, and something close to fear. Her eyes darted around the room again, searching for someone, anyone, to take her side.
But no one moved. Nobody dared to make a sound. No one came to her rescue.
The guests sat frozen in their seats, too stunned to react.
Sofia’s own bridesmaids stood in silence, their black dresses making them look more like pallbearers than wedding attendants.
She had never felt more alone. I could see it on her face.
Sofia’s breath faltered.
Then she turned and ran. She whirled, the skirt of her gown billowing behind her. But in her rush, she stepped on the hem.
A gasp shot through the crowd as she stumbled, and she barely caught herself before tripping again. Her hands gripped the fabric of her dress, lifting it just enough to escape down the aisle.
No one stopped her. No one called after her. Not even her parents or her brother.
I exhaled slowly, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Then I turned to Elena.
She stepped closer, reaching for my hand. I squeezed it in thanks. Around me, guests remained frozen in shock, their eyes moving between me and the empty space where Sofia had been moments ago.
I looked at my sister, my family, and the bridesmaids who had stood beside me today, not as part of a wedding but as part of something else entirely.
“I know this isn’t what anyone expected,” I said to the crowd. “But I’m done pretending. Go inside, eat, drink. I’ll be fine.”
I walked down the aisle, needing a few moments to myself before going back in. And then I saw her.
She was sitting on the curb, her white gown spread around her like a ghost of the life she had lost.
Her hands were shaking, her shoulders were slumped, and she wasn’t the glowing bride anymore. She was just a woman who had finally run out of lies.
She looked up as I approached, her mascara smudged, her eyes red-rimmed and pleading. She reached out, fingers brushing my sleeve, then she grabbed my wrist, holding it like a lifeline.
“Ethan,” she said. “Please. I’ll do anything… just don’t let this be over.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I pulled away.
“I messed up,” she said. “I was scared. I was foolish. But it was never real with him. It was always you, Ethan. It was always you…”
For a moment, I just looked at her.
“If it was always me,” I said quietly, “you wouldn’t have had to say that.”
“Please,” she begged.
“I’ll ask your mother to bring some dinner out for you,” I said.
I turned away and didn’t stop walking. I didn’t look back.
Instead, I went back into the venue and helped myself to the dinner buffet