I knew you’d need proof.”
“Show me,” I said, feeling my heart break as I glanced at Elena’s phone. I blinked, staring down at my hands. They felt different.
Detached from me. “She said she loved me,” I murmured. “Our wedding is in 72 hours, Elena.
What am I supposed to do now? Cancel the wedding?”
“No way!” Elena said. “Teach her a lesson!”
I lifted my head, and for the first time since the conversation started, I met Elena’s gaze with clear, steady rage.
“She’s not getting away with this.”
Elena didn’t look surprised. “What are you going to do?” she asked. Something cold settled in my chest.
I stood up and walked to the window. A deep, deadly clarity. I adjusted my tie like I had already made my decision.
“I’m going to let her have her big day,” I said. “But not in the way she planned.”
A slow smirk curled at the edge of Elena’s lips. “Tell me what you need, brother,” she said.
“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
The Present
The music got louder, signaling the first bridesmaid. As they stepped into view, one after the other, a ripple of unease moved through the crowd. The room, once alive with quiet conversation, shifted completely.
The bridesmaids were dressed in black, as if in mourning. Some of them had taken some convincing, but when they saw the proof that Elena and I had provided, none of them wanted to stand behind a liar. They weren’t wearing the soft sky blue that Sofia had wanted.
Not the carefully chosen pastel shades that matched the invitations and the floral centerpieces. Nope. They were in black.
One by one, they moved forward, their faces unreadable. Their dark dresses contrasted sharply against the delicate white petals scattered along the aisle. That’s when the whispers started.
Both Sofia and I came from traditional families, so the bridesmaids wearing black was a huge problem. A few heads turned to each other with confused frowns. “It’s so inauspicious, Max!” I could almost hear my mother screaming.
“Oh, it’s a bad omen,” I imagined my grandmother saying. I kept my gaze steady, watching as my sister, Elena, reached her spot at the front. She met my eyes and, so subtly that no one else would notice, winked.
I exhaled slowly. Yes. Everything was just as I planned.
Then, the doors at the back of the hall opened. Sofia stepped forward, glowing. I’ll admit, she looked absolutely stunning.
A vision in white. She took one step into the room, then froze. For a moment, she didn’t understand.
Her smile lingered on her lips as she scanned the crowd, expecting to see joy, excitement, and the warmth of celebration. Instead, she saw the black dresses. And her expression faltered.
Her eyes darted from one bridesmaid to the next, taking in the dark silhouettes, the somber energy, and the whispers rippling through the guests. The color drained from her face. Her lips parted slightly, as if to ask a question, but no words came out.
Her hand clenched around the bouquet. She knew something was wrong. Hesitation crept into her movements as she resumed walking.
The usual confidence in her stride was gone. Each step down the aisle felt uncertain. As she reached me, her hands trembling slightly, she took mine.
Her fingers were cold. “What’s going on, Max? Why did they change their dresses?
What the hell? They’ve spoiled the entire aesthetic!”
I smiled at her. But there was no warmth in it.
I had no affection for this woman anymore. “Wait. You mean, you don’t know?” I asked, my voice just loud enough to carry.
A hush fell over the room. Sofia’s eyes darted around the room. From me to the bridesmaids, to my sister standing tall beside them.
I turned slightly, gesturing toward the line of women dressed for mourning. “This isn’t a wedding, Sofia,” I said, my voice calm. Too calm.
And I was calm. I had days to get my feelings in check. “It’s a funeral,” I smiled.
There was a collective gasp across the hall. Our guests looked horrified. My mother looked as though she was going to faint.
Sofia’s fingers tightened around mine in a desperate grip. “What are you talking about?” she gasped. I let out a small, humorless laugh.
“We’re here to bury what’s left of our love. Or, more accurately,” I said, watching as she began to look nervous, “what you killed.”
The silence was suffocating. Then, a murmur.
Someone in the second row covered their mouth with a hand. Someone else turned to the person sitting next to them, whispering urgently. Sofia’s face flushed red.
The panic in her eyes sharpened into something else. Anger. And then, finally, the realization hit her.
She tore her hands from mine and turned, her fury finding a new target. “You told him?!” she snapped, her voice slicing through the air. Sofia was looking directly at her bridesmaids now.
No. She was accusing them. Her face twisted in rage.
“How could you do this?! You girls are my closest people! My closest friends!
And this isn’t your business. Not at all. What the hell?”
“We didn’t want to believe Elena at first,” Maddie, Sofia’s best friend, said.
“But after she showed us proof… we all knew that Max deserved better.”
Elena took a small step forward. I knew that look on my sister’s face. She was trying extremely hard to keep control.
But when she spoke, her voice was steady, cold, and final. “Sofia, it became our business the moment we found out what kind of person you really are.”
She lifted her chin slightly. “It became our business the moment we found out who my brother was about to spend his life with.”
Sofia clenched her fists.
“You had no right!” she shrieked, her voice rising in hysteria. I tilted my head. “No right?
Really? To know the truth about the woman I was going to marry?”
She turned back to me, her desperation clawing through her anger now. “I can explain… Max!”
I shook my head.
I couldn’t bear to hear her 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. Deadly. “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 hitched. 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 fisted the fabric of her dress, lifting it just enough to flee 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 gratitude. Around me, guests remained frozen in shock, their eyes flicking 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 pooled around her like a ghost of the life she had lost.
Her hands were shaking, her shoulders were hunched, and she wasn’t the radiant 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, gripping it like a lifeline. “Max,” 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 stupid. But it was never real with him.
It was always you, Max. 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 that Sofia had planned. This was supposed to be a fairytale. But fairytales end when the villain shows their true colors.
And Sofia had just written the ending herself.
