Chapter 1

The music was supposed to start in ten minutes. My suit felt perfect, the one Chloe said made me look like a movie star. Our friends and family filled the garden of the venue, sunlight catching the white roses Chloe insisted on. Everything was exactly as she’d planned for months. I stood near the altar, my best man, Mark, grinning beside me. “Nervous, Ethan?” “A little,” I admitted, adjusting my tie. “Just want it to be perfect for her.” Mark clapped my shoulder. “It will be, man. She loves you.” I believed him. Five years we’d been together, since our early twenties. I’d always put her first. Then, her maid of honor, Sarah, rushed towards us, her face pale. She wasn’t smiling. “Ethan, can I talk to you? Alone?” Mark stepped back, his smile fading. Sarah clutched her phone. “It’s Chloe.” My stomach dropped. “Is she okay? Is she here?” “She called me. She… she’s not coming, Ethan.” The words didn't make sense. “What do you mean, not coming? Is she sick? Did something happen?” Sarah avoided my eyes. “She said Damien had an emergency. A medical emergency. She had to go to him.” Damien. Her ex. The struggling musician she always felt sorry for, the one she was always “saving.” “Damien?” I repeated, my voice flat. “On our wedding day?” “She said it was serious. Life or death. She sounded frantic.” “Where is she?” I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking. “I need to talk to her.” “She hung up. Said she couldn’t talk.” I dialed Chloe’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Again. And again. “This is a joke, right?” I looked at Sarah, desperate. “Some kind of messed-up wedding prank?” She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.” The music queue was probably about to start. Our song. I felt a hand on my arm. It was my mom, her face a mask of confusion and worry. My dad stood beside her, looking grim. “Ethan, what’s going on? Sarah looks upset.” I couldn’t speak. The words were stuck in my throat, a hard, painful lump. Sarah mumbled something about Chloe and Damien. My mom gasped. “No. Not today. She wouldn’t.” But she had. I pushed past them, out of the garden, away from the white roses and the confused faces of our guests. I had to find her. I had to make her understand. I got in my car and drove towards her apartment, the one we were supposed to leave together for our honeymoon. She wasn't there. I tried Damien’s last known address, a rundown apartment building across town. His door was unlocked. I pushed it open. Chloe was there, hovering over Damien, who was lounging on a stained couch, a beer in his hand, looking perfectly fine. Annoyed, even. “Ethan? What are you doing here?” Chloe asked, startled. She wasn’t in her wedding dress. Just jeans and a t-shirt. “What am I doing here?” My voice was dangerously calm. “Our wedding, Chloe. It’s happening right now. Or it was supposed to.” Damien smirked. “She’s busy, man.” “Chloe,” I pleaded, ignoring him. “Come with me. We can still fix this. Tell me what’s wrong. Damien doesn’t look like he’s dying.” Chloe wrung her hands. “He had a panic attack. A really bad one. He called me, said he couldn’t breathe. I had to come.” “A panic attack?” I stared at Damien, who was now lighting a cigarette. “And that’s more important than marrying me? Than our life?” “You don’t understand, Ethan,” she said, her voice taking on that familiar, defensive tone. “He relies on me. He has no one else.” “I rely on you!” I shouted, finally losing my composure. “We had everyone else, waiting for us!” I grabbed her arm, gently. “Please, Chloe. Just come back. We can talk about this later. Let’s not throw away five years.” She pulled her arm away. “I can’t, Ethan.” Her voice was cold now. “He needs me right now. You’re strong, you can handle the guests.” “Handle the guests?” I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. “Is that what you think this is about? Handling guests?” She wouldn’t look at me. She just stared at Damien, as if he was the only person in the world. “I have to stay,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Sorry. Damien blew a smoke ring. “You heard her, pal. Time to go.” I looked at Chloe one last time, searching for any sign of the woman I loved, the woman I was supposed to marry. There was nothing. Just a stranger prioritizing a destructive past over our future. I turned and walked out, leaving her with him. The drive back to the venue was a blur. When I got there, the garden was mostly empty. A few close friends remained, looking lost. My parents were talking to the venue manager, their faces etched with pain and embarrassment. My mom saw me and rushed over, her eyes red. “Ethan, honey. We… we told everyone. That the wedding is… postponed.” Postponed. Not cancelled. She was still hoping. I couldn’t feel anything. Just a vast, empty numbness. My dad put a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go home, son.” He led me away, past the wilting white roses, past the silent altar. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on me. All those people. All their pitying looks. I got into my dad’s car. I didn’t look back.