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. The reflection staring back at me was one of a bride—radiant, breathless, and on the verge of stepping into forever.
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 order—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 in laughter or tangled in an argument.
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.
I turned to Sam, waiting for him to laugh, to shake his head, to just do something… anything! Anything that would prove this was some kind of sick joke.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped forward.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Whispers erupted around us. I felt my mother tense beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. My bridesmaids shifted, wide-eyed, their bouquets lowered.
I could hear my heart pounding, each beat deafening in the silence.
And then, right there, in the middle of our wedding, he walked toward her.
I think all the air left my lungs.
My fiancé’s movements weren’t hesitant. He wasn’t rushing to correct her, wasn’t denying it.
And then, God help me, he wrapped his arms around her.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
The world tilted. My hands trembled. I wanted to move, to say something, to scream, but I couldn’t.
Sam’s lips moved, whispered something into her ear. Something only she could hear.
She let out a soft laugh.
It felt like the ground had cracked beneath me, and I was free-falling into nothing.
When he finally turned back to me, his face was filled with something I couldn’t quite place.
Regret?
Pain?
Betrayal?
“I…” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Hazel, I need to explain this.”
“You…” My voice cracked. “You’re married?”
“No.” His voice was careful, too careful. “Not exactly, Hazel.”
The woman, this stranger who had just shattered my wedding, laughed lightly, shaking her head.
“Wow,” she murmured. “That’s one way to put it.”
I turned to her, my voice shaking. “Who are you?”
Her eyes flicked to mine for the first time, and something in them softened.
“My name is Anna,” she said simply.
Anna.
The name rang in my ears, the pieces clicking together too slowly, too painfully.
Sam had mentioned her before.
She was a childhood best friend. Someone he had been close to for years. But never… not once had he mentioned a marriage.
I felt sick, bile rising to my throat.
“Sam,” I said, forcing the words to come out. “Tell me the truth. Right now. In front of all our family and friends.”
He swallowed hard, glancing between the two of us before turning fully to me.
“When we were kids, we had a pretend wedding,” he admitted. “Candy ring pops, a few scribbled vows, and Anna trying to play a song on her ukulele. We thought it was the real deal at the time. We were twelve.”
He let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair.
“But Anna is my best friend, that’s all.”
Then why did she walk in here and say that?
Then why did you hold her like that?
Sam hesitated for a long moment, then sighed. “A few years ago, Anna was in a terrible car accident. Doctors said she might never walk again.”
Silence.
“Anna spent years in rehab, fighting to get her life back,” Sam continued. “I invited her to the wedding because how could I not have her here? But she told me she wouldn’t be able to come.”
Anna spoke softly. “I wanted to walk through those doors by myself. I’ve been practicing with heels for a long time now. I’ve literally been teaching myself how to walk in them for your day.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes.
Anna took a slow breath and turned to me. “I’m so sorry for the drama, Hazel,” she said, her voice laced with guilt and amusement. “Sam and I have always pranked each other, and I thought… why not one last time?”
The tension in the room broke, the energy shifting with the guests murmuring and chuckling softly.
“Cue the music,” Sam said. “It’s time to get married.”
And as I reached for his hand, I knew.
This was right.
This was forever.
