Chapter 2

The moment felt frozen. The guests, the priest, my own father standing beside me-they all faded into a blurry background. The only thing in focus was Ethan, his back now turned completely to me as he stared at the woman who called herself Chloe.

He moved as if in a trance, stumbling down the aisle toward her. He didn't look back at me once. Not a single glance. He reached her and just stood there for a second, his whole body trembling. Then, he pulled her into a fierce, desperate hug, burying his face in her hair.

The crowd erupted in a chaos of whispers and gasps. Cameras, meant to capture a joyous union, were now documenting my ultimate humiliation. The flashes were relentless, blinding. I stood there, a statue in white silk and lace, my bouquet of white roses feeling heavy and absurd in my hands.

Ethan finally pulled away from Chloe, but he kept his hands on her shoulders, his eyes scanning her face as if she were a ghost. He seemed to have forgotten where he was, who he was with.

He turned slightly, his gaze finally landing on me. There was no love in his eyes, no apology. Just confusion and a flicker of annoyance, as if my presence was an inconvenient detail.

"Olivia," he said, his voice strained. "I… I' m sorry. I don't know what' s happening."

It was the most pathetic, dismissive apology I had ever heard. His attention was already back on Chloe, who was leaning against him, looking weak and vulnerable. He was completely captivated.

Mrs. Blackwood, who had been frozen in her seat, suddenly sprang into action. She rushed past me, her elegant composure gone, her face a mask of disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

"Chloe? Is it really you?" she cried, reaching out to touch the girl' s arm.

Ethan wrapped a protective arm around Chloe' s shoulders, shielding her from the prying eyes of the guests. He looked at his mother, then at the gawking crowd, with a fierce defiance.

"We need to get her out of here," he said, his voice firm. He was in control now, and his priority was clear.

The scene descended into a full-blown circus. My father tried to step forward, to say something, but what was there to say? The groom was abandoning the bride at the altar for a woman everyone thought was dead. My mother' s face was pale, her expression a mixture of horror and cold calculation as she surely processed the social and financial fallout. I could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, some filled with pity, others with a cruel sense of amusement. I felt naked, exposed, ridiculed.

Ethan didn't say another word to me. He held Chloe close, whispering things to her that I couldn't hear. He led her carefully back down the aisle, through the crowd that parted for them like the Red Sea. He pushed open the heavy church doors and disappeared with her into the daylight, leaving me alone in the dim, hallowed space, surrounded by the ruins of our wedding. The fantasy was not just broken; it was shattered into a million sharp, glittering pieces at my feet. The organist, in a moment of sheer panic, started playing a mournful dirge before catching himself and falling silent again. The silence that followed was the loudest sound I had ever heard.