The lace of her wedding dress clung too tightly to her skin, as if it already knew something was wrong. Amara's hands trembled around the bouquet, the roses shaking with every nervous breath. The church was full of whispers, camera flashes, curious eyes all waiting for her perfect day.
She smiled anyway. She had practiced it in the mirror for weeks, the smile of a bride who believed in forever.
But when her groom stepped forward, his eyes didn't shine with love. They burned with something else shame, anger, maybe even disgust.
"I can't do this," he said, his voice echoing across the silent church.
The smile fell from her face. She thought she had misheard. "What?"
His jaw clenched. "I don't want you, Amara. I never did."
Gasps rippled through the room. The priest froze. Her father's head dropped. Her mother covered her mouth. Amara's chest caved in as if her ribs had cracked under the weight of his words.
The bouquet slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the marble floor.
Tears blurred her vision, but she could still see the cruel twist of his lips as he added, almost proudly, "This marriage was never real."
The world tilted. Her legs gave way. And as she fell, she realized the one thing worse than heartbreak was humiliation being broken in front of everyone who came to celebrate her love.
But before the silence could swallow her whole, a voice cut through the chaos. Deep, steady, commanding.
"If he won't marry you…"
The crowd turned as a tall figure stepped into the aisle. His presence alone silenced the whispers, his sharp gaze fixed on her as though he'd known this moment was coming.
"…then I will."