Hazel’s wedding day is perfect until a mysterious woman crashes the ceremony, claiming to be Sam’s wife.
As the truth unravels, Hazel faces a moment that could shatter everything.
But love isn’t always what it seems, and sometimes, the unexpected leads to something even more beautiful…
I sat in front of the mirror, my fingers grazing the lace of my wedding dress, tracing the delicate floral patterns stitched into the fabric.
Today was the day.
A slow breath filled my lungs, thick with the scent of peonies and roses from my bouquet resting nearby.
I was marrying Sam.
The love of my life.
The young man who had once handed me a single daisy in the middle of a summer rainstorm, grinning as if he had plucked the sun itself just for me. The man who had memorized my coffee down to the extra shot of vanilla before I even realized I had a regular order.
The person who, without fail, kissed my forehead every night, whether we were wrapped up in laughter or tangled in an argument.
I knew him. I knew his steady hands, his quiet strength, the way his eyes softened when they found mine in a crowded room.
‘
Sam was my safe place.
A tear pricked at the corner of my eye, and I laughed at myself, dabbing it away before it could fall.
“Careful,” my maid of honor, Lauren, teased from the doorway, holding out a flute of champagne. “We spent way too long on your makeup for you to ruin it now.”
I took the glass, shaking my head.
“I just…” My voice wavered. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“You’re about to be a wife,” Lauren smirked.
A wife.
The word sent a thrill through me.
Because this wasn’t just a wedding.
It was our wedding. Our beginning.
And in just thirty minutes, I’d be walking down the aisle, toward the man I had loved for what felt like a lifetime.
Everything was perfect. The flowers, the music, the quiet hum of our guests.
I stood at the altar, heart pounding, my fingers curled around my bouquet as I locked eyes with Sam, my fiancé of five years.
We were seconds away from forever.
I had imagined this moment a thousand times, pictured his expression when I said I do, the way his voice would sound when he promised to love me for the rest of his life.
Then, the door creaked open.
The sound cut through the silence like a knife, and every head in the room turned.
A woman walked in.
Her heels clicked against the floor in slow, deliberate strides. She was stunning. She had long, dark hair cascading over one shoulder, lips painted in a sharp, bold red.
But it wasn’t her beauty that sent a chill through me.
It was the way she looked at Sam.
My Sam.
“Aren’t you going to tell them?” she asked, her voice smooth and confident.
My fingers stiffened around my bouquet.
“Tell us what?” I swallowed.
She didn’t even glance at me.
Her gaze stayed locked on Sam.
“That you’re already married, Sam,” she said.
The room inhaled all at once, gasps and murmurs rippling like waves in every direction. My breath caught in my throat. The flowers in my hands felt heavier, like I was sinking under their weight.
My engagement ring felt like it was branding my skin.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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