The dress was perfect.
Ivory silk clung to her curves like a whispered promise, embroidered lace kissing her collarbones, and a crystal-studded veil cascading down her back like moonlight. Her hair was pinned in soft waves, makeup flawless, lips painted in a delicate shade of rose.
Ava Harper looked like a bride pulled from a magazine cover.
But something was wrong.
The corridor outside the bridal suite was too quiet.
Her heels echoed across the marble as she passed the hallway lined with white roses and soft gold drapery. The air was thick with the scent of lilies—elegant, sweet, and suddenly sickening.
A muffled laugh stopped her cold.
A woman's laugh.
Familiar. Sharp. Cruel.
Her brows furrowed.
Emily?
She stepped closer to the half-open door of the groom's private lounge. Her fingers hovered over the doorknob, heart pounding against her ribcage like a drum. Her veil fluttered behind her, a ghost of innocence.
Then she heard it.
A breathless moan.A man's voice.Ethan's voice.
"No one has to know," he whispered."You're the one I want."
Ava's world tilted.
She pushed the door open.
And there they were—entwined in rumpled white sheets, skin against skin, laughter melting into kisses.
Her best friend.Her fiancé.Her betrayal.
Emily gasped. Ethan's eyes widened.
Ava didn't scream. She didn't cry.
She stared, frozen in the doorway, bouquet clutched so tightly the stems snapped beneath her fingers. Crimson rose petals tumbled to the floor like blood.
Silence stretched between them, thick as smoke.
"...Ava, it's not what it looks like," Ethan said, scrambling to cover himself.
She tilted her head, eyes hollow. "No?"
Her voice was calm. Deadly calm.
"It looks like the man I was supposed to marry just ruined everything. With my maid of honor."
Emily opened her mouth, but no words came.
Ava turned slowly, veil brushing the frame of the door as if saying goodbye for her.
Her mother appeared down the hallway, face flushed with joy and nerves.
"Darling! The ceremony is starting—why aren't you—?"
"I'm not getting married," Ava said, her voice clear and cold.
"What? Ava—don't be ridiculous, there are guests waiting, reporters—"
"I said, I'm not marrying him."
She let the bouquet fall.
The roses hit the marble floor with a dull, wet thud.
Then she walked away.Each step echoing like thunder.From the altar.From the lies.From the girl who believed in fairy tale