Chapter One
Daisy's POV
"Yes, I will take him to be my lovely wedded husband," I replied to the priest, my voice steady, a wide smile on my face. My heart was racing, but it felt like the good kind—the kind you get before a new beginning.
I have been waiting for this moment all my life and it is the best thing that could ever happen to me.
"Ansel Ryder, do you take Daisy Sawyer to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for as long as you both shall live?"
The priest turned to him.
Our hands were laced tightly. I waited. I smiled. Everyone waited.
But Ansel didn't say anything.
"What's happening? Say something—everyone is watching," I whispered, trying to keep the smile frozen on my face even as I felt it twitch. My fingers squeezed his slightly.
Then came the word that cracked the floor beneath my feet.
"No."
I blinked.
My heart stuttered, almost refusing to register it. "I'm sorry," he added. "But I have to do this. I'm no longer interested in you. This is the best way we can both walk away."
His head stayed bowed, like even he couldn't bear the words coming out of his mouth.
Gasps erupted across the chapel. Whispering. Chairs shifting. Someone dropped their program. The air turned thick. Everything sounded distant—like I was underwater.
The flowers in my hand slipped to the ground.
I stepped closer to him, slowly. Blinking hard. Maybe I heard wrong. Maybe this was a prank. A sick joke. No! It was definitely a joke.
"What do you mean by that? Are you okay?" I whispered, searching his eyes, begging them to tell me this was just nerves.
But he let go of my hand. Just like that.
I turned to the crowd. Forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. My face burned. I tried to pretend just for a moment that it wasn't falling apart.
Ansel loved me and there was no way he'd be doing this to me, right?
"I'm not getting married to you. I just gave it a second thought," he said, louder now. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."
He bowed.
And the people I once called family started to leave, one by one. Even the priest was gone. Of course, it was better that way. That was the only way I would be able to talk with him well.
I really wanted to know what was wrong.
Only my father, stepmother, and half-sister remained.
I stood there, like a statue in white lace, staring at the pieces of a dream now lying at my feet. I folded my lower lips while a scoffed erupted from me.
"Why did you do this?" My voice came out low and weak. The tears threatened, lurking at the corner of my eyes. "You didn't have to do it this way."
I took a long breath, exhaled through trembling lips. My mind raced. My chest ached.
What about the time we spent together? What about the promises, the quiet mornings, the laughter that used to feel real?
"I already apologized. Things like this happen. I hope you can move on," he said, still not looking me in the eye.
Move on?
We'd been together a year. And now I was just… something to walk away from?
"You could've waited," I said, my voice cracking. "At least wait until we got married and filed for divorce later. Why humiliate me like this?"
My voice rose despite myself. I clutched my chest, my fists pressing in as if I could hold the pain in place.
I reached for him.
"At least look at me." My voice broke, tears spilling freely now.
He finally turned. His eyes were red too—but his face stayed cold.
"You can hit me if it helps," he said, almost like he wasn't even present.
I did. My fists landed on his chest but it was not to hurt him, but to reach him. To remind him of us.
"How did we get here?" I whispered. "Tell me this is a joke. Tell me you'll stop any second."
I stopped. My tears blurred everything. My hands dropped.
Maybe I was the one losing it.
"You should've just told me," I said, gently brushing the wrinkle I'd made in his shirt. "If you weren't ready… I would've understood. You could've said something."
I touched his cheek, forcing a small, broken smile. "We could've talked."
"What are you even trying to say?" he asked, confused by my shift.
I let out a tiny laugh. Hollow. Tired.
"Just… that I would've understood. That's all."
"Snap out of it and stop acting like a fool." Miranda's voice cut in like a blade. My step-sister. I forgot she was even there.
Ansel turned away.
"This is the end," he said quietly. "We're not going back. We're done."
And with that—he broke the last bit of hope I had carefully rebuilt.
Shattered.
No glue in the world could fix what was left now.
"No," I whispered. "What about the baby? What about everything we planned?"
I grabbed his shirt, desperation clawing up my throat.
His eyes flicked to my stomach. I saw it—the pause. He Still cared. I don't care if I'm pulled the last card right now. I wanted him with me by every means possible.
"Child?" he said, voice low.
"I'm three months pregnant," I told him, hand resting on my belly. "I wanted to tell you today."
His face changed slightly, more like he was unsure.
"She's lying," Linda snapped, my stepmother. "He's marrying someone else. Your sister. There's nothing you can do."
Her words hit like bullets. She's getting married to Miranda? What sort of pranks were they all pulling on me?
What?
I stared at Ansel. "Tell me it's not true. Tell me they're lying," I whispered, clutching his hands.
"They're not," he said. Then shoved me, tossing my hand away like I was a piece of garbage.
I hit the ground hard, the impact sending a jolt through me.
"Yes!" Miranda chimed, arms wrapping around him. "I got him. We're getting married soon. So get over it."
Ansel was still staring at my belly. Like it meant something. Or maybe nothing at all.
"At least tell me why," I said, voice trembling. "Tell me why you're walking away from us. From this baby."
"Just shut the fuck up. Let's go," Miranda spat. She pulled him by the arm.
And they left.
Left me alone, sinking into the floor in my wedding dress. This is going to be tagged the worst day of my life.
My limbs felt weak making me feel really vulnerable.
Pain bloomed in my stomach.
Something was wrong.
Then I saw it.
Blood. Gosh. I don't want anything to happen to my baby.
---
The antiseptic scent of the hospital hit me the moment I woke. It stung my nose, sharp and sterile.
I didn't need anyone to tell me where I was.
The memories rushed in before I could stop them.
The wedding. Ansel. The baby. The blood.
And then I saw him.
Lincoln.
Why was he here? I hadn't seen him in months.
I cleared my throat, just enough to get their attention.
"She's awake," the doctor said, walking over. "Do you feel pain anywhere?"
"No," I whispered. "What's wrong?"
The answer was in his eyes even before he said it.
"I'm sorry," he said gently. "Your child couldn't survive." the doctor broke the news.