Chapter 75 CHAPTER 75
Chapter 75 CHAPTER 75
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bridal suite, the white wedding dress settling around me like still water.
The lace along the bodice caught the late-morning light that poured through the tall windows, each intricate pattern sharp and clear.
The skirt fell in soft layers to the floor. My hands rested lightly against the sides of my waist, fingers brushing the smooth silk.
My hair was pinned up with small white flowers, a few loose strands framing my face. The veil waited on the chair beside me.
My mother moved through the room in her nude-colored dress, the fabric skimming her figure without clinging.
She spoke in low, clipped tones to the wedding planner near the door, pointing at a checklist on a tablet.
“The arch needs to be centered. The flowers on the left side are uneven. Fix it before the guests start arriving.” The planner nodded quickly and stepped out into the hallway.
I smiled feeling proud and happy that she is here to support me during this big moment.
My mother turned next to a tray of champagne flutes, adjusting one that sat slightly off-center, then smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from a chair cover.
Her footsteps stayed quick and purposeful across the wooden floor. “Mom, calm
down. Everything is perfect relax.”
Tasha stood a few feet away in her nude maid-of-honour dress, the same soft shade as my mother’s.
She held a small bouquet of white roses and ran her thumb along one of the stems. The air between us felt better now.
Weeks earlier we had spoken cried on each other’s shoulders and admitted how missed each other.
We both understood that because of the twin the two, thats why she felt like that. Her weight shifted onto one hip as she watched me in the mirror. “You look so beautiful.”
“Stop it with the compliments.” I said jokingly.
Angel, in an identical nude bridesmaid dress, adjusted the thin strap on her shoulder and checked her reflection in the smaller mirror near the vanity.
She caught my eye in the glass and offered a beautiful smile before turning back to the jewelry tray, lifting a pair of simple pearl earrings and setting them down again.
I remained still in front of the glass, in disbelief of what is happening around me.
The room smelled of fresh flowers and the faint polish of the wooden floor. Outside, distant voices carried from the garden where the chairs already stood in neat rows.
My gaze rested on my own reflection. The weeks and months that had led here moved through my mind quietly —the nights of running through the dream forest, the weight of the ancestral knife under the mattress.
My breath moved evenly in my chest. My pulse beat steady at the base of my throat.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
A little boy stepped in, no older than seven, wearing a miniature suit with a slightly crooked bow tie.
He held a single long-stemmed rose in one hand and a folded note in the other. He walked straight to me and held both out without speaking.
I took them gently. The rose was cool against my fingers, the petals tight. I unfolded the note. Alex’s handwriting filled the small card in clear, steady lines:
“I still want to do this. I love you.“
A soft chorus of “awww” rose from the women in the room. Tasha pressed her free hand to her chest. Angel’s mouth curved.
Even my mother paused in her circuit of the room, one eyebrow lifting as she glanced toward the note in my hand.
Jon appeared in the doorway a moment later. He wore a dark suit, the jacket unbuttoned.
He crossed to me and stopped a few paces away, hands loosely at his sides. The little boy slipped back out into the corridor.
“You look ready,” Jon said. His voice was low, even. He studied my face for a second, then the dress, then met my eyes again. “I’ll come when you are done.”
I nodded once. Jon rested a brief hand on my shoulder, the pressure light, then stepped back toward the door and waited there without speaking further.
Another figure appeared in the open doorway.
My sister stood on the threshold. The dress she wore was simple, dark blue, and the lines of her face looked less sharp than the last time we had been in the same room.
Her hair was pulled back. She held her hands loosely in front of her. She glanced around the suite at my mother, at Tasha, at Angel, at Jon—then settled on me.
“Can we have a minute?” she asked. “Just the two of us.”
Angel moved first, stepping toward the others with a quiet gesture meant to guide them toward the door. I lifted one hand.
“Stay,” I said, the word came out clear. “Everyone sit.”
Chairs scraped softly against the floor as the women took seats. Jon remained standing near the doorway, arms folded. I turned fully toward my sister and kept my voice level.
“If you have something to say, say it in front of everyone.”
Her gaze flicked to the others, then back. She drew a breath that lifted her shoulders.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t make me your maid of honour.” She said probably trying to enlighten the mood.
A short, sharp laugh left my throat, disbelief cutting through it. “Why would I make you my maid of honour when I wasn’t even invited to your wedding?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. Her hands tightened around each other, no answer came.
I tilted my head a fraction. “Sometimes you can ask the dumbest questions.”
She lifted her head again. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened once more. “I’m sorry.”
I scoffed, the sound quiet but final. I walked to the nearest chair and sat, the white dress settling around my legs.
I rested both hands on the armrests and looked straight at her.
“I don’t want to ever see you again. Inviting you was the last bit of kindness I had for you.” I kept my voice even, each word measured.
“You had so many chances not to betray me, but you chose time and time again to hurt me and betray me.” Her face tightened.
Tears gathered and spilled, tracking down her cheeks in thin lines. She wiped at them once with the back of her hand, then let them fall.
Her voice, when it came, was thick and full of pain.
“I’m leaving. Moving upstate with Mom and Dad, you won’t have to ever see me again. I’m divorcing Callen.”
She turned without waiting for a reply and walked out of the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
The suite stayed quiet for several seconds. I remained seated, my pulse steady at my throat, my breath moving in and out without hurry.
Tasha rose first, crossed to me, and rested a hand lightly on my shoulder. Angel followed, standing close but not speaking.
Jon checked his watch once, then looked to me and waited for the nod that would tell him it was time to walk to the alter.