I exhaled slowly. My reflection looked steadier now.
Guests began filling the hall. Music swelled. My father knocked gently on the door.
“Savannah sweetheart. It is time,” he said.
I opened the door. He smiled proudly, unaware of the storm inside me. I slipped my arm through his.
“You look radiant,” he whispered.
“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “No matter what happens next, I love you.”
He laughed softly. “Nothing bad happens today.”
He could not know how wrong he was.
We entered the ballroom. Everyone turned. Phones lifted. Cameras flashed. Dylan stood at the altar wearing a tailored navy suit, smiling like a man certain of victory. His mother sat in the front row, hands folded neatly, eyes glittering with satisfaction.
I walked down the aisle. Every step felt like crossing a bridge over a canyon. My heartbeat sounded like drums in my ears. When I reached Dylan, he squeezed my hands.
“You are breathtaking,” he murmured.
I stared at him. The lie in his eyes no longer fooled me.
The officiant began the ceremony. Words about love and unity filled the room. Dylan recited his vows smoothly. Promises of devotion. Promises of loyalty. Each sentence sounded rehearsed and hollow.
Then the officiant turned to me.
“And do you, Savannah Pierce, take Dylan Ross to be your lawfully wedded husband.”
Silence fell.
Everyone expected two simple words.
