Chapter 1 The Empty Aisle

Evelyn POV

"Hold still, or I'll poke you."

Priya says it with a pin between her teeth as she kneels at my feet, fixing the hem of my dress.

"You've been threatening my life for twenty minutes."

"And you've been moving for twenty minutes, Evelyn."

I laugh and force myself to stay still. The bridal shop is bright, with mirrors covering almost every wall and rows of white dresses hanging behind me. I look at my reflection, hardly believing the woman staring back at me is actually me. The dress is white, with lace sleeves and a fitted waist. I spent months planning today because I wanted everything to feel right.

Mom stands a few steps away, watching me with a smile that keeps threatening to turn into tears. She holds a tissue she hasn't used yet, twisting it between her fingers.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," Diane Cole says, her voice catching on the last word.

"Mom, if you start, I'll start." I smile at her through the mirror. "Then Priya will have to repin this whole dress."

"I made no such promise," Priya says, glaring at me.

Mom laughs softly, but her eyes stay shiny, and she dabs at them with the tissue she's been holding onto all morning like it might be needed any second.

"Your father would have loved seeing you like this," she says quietly.

My throat tightens. "I know, Mom."

"He would have walked you down that aisle himself."

I nod, not trusting myself to say much else. I don't want grief taking over today. There will be time for that later.

My phone sits on the table beside the mirror. I glance at it before picking it up. Still nothing from Marcus.

I call him. It rings several times before going to voicemail.

"He's probably busy getting ready," Priya says. "You said he was already on his way."

"He did."

"Then stop worrying. It's your wedding day."

I nod, wanting to believe her.

The drive to the church passes in a blur. Mom talks about the flowers, Priya checks her phone, and I stare out the window, thinking about the husband, home, and future waiting for me.

We met eight months ago after I accidentally spilled coffee on his shirt at a café near my office. I apologized so many times that he laughed and told me he would survive. One conversation became two hours, two hours became dinner, and somehow he became part of my life. Steady. Safe. Certain. That was what Marcus made me feel.

The church comes into view, and my stomach fills with nervous excitement. White stone rises behind a row of trees, and the tall doors are already open. About three hundred guests are seated inside, dressed for the occasion, their voices blending into a murmur.

The priest is standing at the altar, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The wedding coordinator is near the entrance, checking the time and looking toward the doors every few seconds.

I step out of the car, gather my dress, and walk toward the church with Mom and Priya behind me. The guests are waiting, the priest is ready, and the flowers are in place.

Then I notice the empty space beside the altar.

Marcus is not there.

I slow down, looking toward the entrance. Maybe he is running late or about to walk through those doors with an apology.

But he doesn't.

The wedding coordinator hurries toward me. Her face is pale, and her hands are twisted together.

"Evelyn."

"Where is Marcus?" I ask.

She hesitates. "There's been a delay."

"A delay?" I look past her toward the altar. "The priest is already waiting. Everyone is here. Why is he not here?"

"We've tried calling him."

I call Marcus. The call goes straight to voicemail. His phone is off.

"He told me he was on his way," I say.

The coordinator gives me an uneasy look. "We thought he might be caught in traffic."

"He would have called."

"I know."

I look inside the church again. People are beginning to notice. Some guests turn toward the entrance while others whisper. The priest remains at the altar, waiting, and the longer he stands there, the more nervous I become.

Five minutes pass, then another five. I call Marcus again, but nothing changes. I open our messages and type.

Where are you? Everyone's waiting.

I send it and stare at the screen. Then the typing dots appear beneath his name. My heart lifts with relief.

"He's replying," Priya says quietly.

The dots disappear. They appear again, then disappear once more. My fingers tighten around the phone as I wait.

The dots appear for the third time.

Then his message arrives.

I can't do this, Evelyn. I'm sorry. Please don't make this bigger than it needs to be. I do hope you understand, but I can't marry you anymore.

I read it twice.

The church suddenly feels too quiet, even with three hundred people around me. The priest, coordinator, Mom, and Priya all watch my face.

I call Marcus again. His phone is still off. I type another message.

What is going on? Call me right now.

I immediately call Ryan, Marcus's best friend and best man. He answers after several rings.

"Evelyn?"

"Where is Marcus?"

"I thought he was with you."

"He just sent me a message saying he can't marry me. What is happening?"

Ryan is silent for a moment. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Tell me the truth."

"He said he couldn't go through with it. That's all I know."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

The call ends.

Mom steps closer. "What did he say?"

"He's not coming."

Her hand flies to her mouth. She immediately calls Kate, Marcus's mother, but the call goes unanswered. She tries again.

"She always answers me," Mom whispers.

I look at her. "She already knows."

Her voice breaks and eyes fill with tears. "Evelyn, sweetheart..."

I shake my head. "Please don't."

My chest feels tight, and for one terrible second, I think my legs might give way. Three hundred people are waiting, and I am standing there without a groom.

Priya takes my hand. "We can leave. You don't have to explain anything to anyone."

I look toward the altar. The priest is still waiting, and everyone is still waiting.

"No," I say quietly. "I need to tell them."

I walk to the altar. Every step feels heavier than the last. Conversations fade as people notice me, and the room becomes painfully quiet. I go to speak to the priest. He looks disappointed but does not ask questions. He simply steps aside and gives me space to address the guests.

I turn to face them. Three hundred faces look back at me, and I refuse to let my breaking heart show.

"Thank you all for coming," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. "There isn't going to be a wedding today. I'm sorry for the short notice."

A gasp comes from somewhere near the middle of the church, but I don't look toward it. I turn around and walk back down the aisle.

I keep my head high until I reach the car. The moment the door closes, tears slide down my cheeks. Priya takes my hand without saying anything.

I reach my apartment with Priya, while my mom goes to the family house to explain the situation to the relatives. I change out of the dress and weakly toss it on the sofa. A few hours ago, it felt like the beginning of my new life. Now I can barely look at it.

I sit on my bed and stare at my phone. Marcus still hasn't called, to at least explain.

I keep thinking about his message, trying to find an explanation that might make this feel less cruel. There is nothing, only a few cold sentences from the man I trusted with my future.

I lie down and close my eyes, but sleep refuses to come. My mind keeps returning to the same question.

Why would he do this without even facing me?

I don't have an answer. All I have is an empty aisle, a silent phone, and a future that disappeared before it began.

Tomorrow, I will have to face everyone, and I have no idea what they will believe happened.