I have no memory of how Tania found me, how I ended up in the car with her, or even when we arrived at the venue. All I could hear was the ringing and buzzing in my head, the relentless pounding of my heart against my ribs, a heavy, gnawing dread twisting in my chest.
I sank into a chair in the waiting room, silent, my thoughts spinning in a blur. Minutes stretched into hours—or maybe it was only moments—I couldn't tell. The world felt distant, unreal. I waited. And waited.
Then the door slammed open. I jolted upright, heart leaping into my throat.
Gena, Holan's mother, stormed in like a hurricane, her face red and furious. "You wretch! It's all because of you!" Her hand struck my cheek before I could react, sharp and burning. The sting cleared the fog in my mind instantly.
I blinked at her, dazed. Her eyes were wide with panic and fury, her chest heaving. "W-what… what are you talking about?" I stammered, still trying to piece together the fragments of the morning.
"You—this is all your fault!" she shrieked, lunging forward, hands clutching my neck. The world narrowed to the pressure of her grip, the frantic look in her eyes. "My son… he's missing! All because of you! What have you done to him?"
Pain seared my chest as she pinned me to the couch. I gasped, coughing, my lungs burning. Tania's hands were suddenly on my arms, pulling me back, holding me upright, shielding me. Others rushed in, finally forcing Gena away, but the pounding in my head only grew louder.
"What… what is wrong with you? What are you talking about? Where is Holan?" My voice trembled, raw and desperate.
Tania pulled me to the side, her grip firm but gentle, trying to keep me from collapsing. "Elara… breathe. Listen. Holan—he's nowhere to be found. He's missing. He isn't answering calls or messages. No one has seen him anywhere. I… I'm afraid he may have run away from the wedding."
My stomach dropped. My hands clutched at my dress as if holding on could make sense of the chaos. "No. That's… that's nonsense!" I spat, hysterical. "Holan… he loves me! He promised! He would never leave me! He'd never do this!"
Tania's eyes were wide, haunted, but steady. "I wish it were that simple, Elara… I wish."
And in that instant, my chest constricted, my head spun, and the room tilted. The storm outside rumbled like a warning. Every joyful moment I had imagined for today, every dream of walking down the aisle—it felt like it had been ripped away, replaced by a nightmare I couldn't wake from.
"I don't believe this!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "He wouldn't leave me! I'll find him myself!"
Tania grabbed my arm before I could storm past her. "Elara, listen to me. Please." Her voice trembled, but she held on tight. "I know you're hurt, but it's true. I—I have proof."
I froze, chest heaving. "What proof?"
She swallowed hard, then showed me her phone. On the screen was a blurry photo—Holan, dressed in the same suit he was supposed to wear today, walking through an airport terminal. His face was turned slightly, but I knew that posture, that stride.
"He was seen at the airport early this morning," she whispered. "I think he left, Elara."
For a second, I couldn't breathe. The world went silent around me. My stomach twisted, my throat burned. Then something inside me snapped.
"You're lying," I hissed, shoving her hand away. "You're lying! He promised me, Tania! He said he loved me! He said—" My voice broke, and I didn't finish.
"Elara, please—"
But I didn't hear the rest. I pushed past her, blinded by tears, and ran. The world outside was gray and violent, rain pounding so hard it stung my skin. People turned to look, their faces blurring into shadows as I stumbled down the steps.
I waved down the first taxi I saw, yanking the door open with shaking hands.
"The airport," I gasped, sliding in, rain dripping from my hair onto the seat. "Just go—please—hurry."
The driver glanced at me in the mirror, hesitated, then nodded and pulled into the road.
The rain was ugly. I hated it today despite it being my favorite thing. It hit the glass like a curse, heavy and uneven, and the drops crawled down the window like they were mocking me. My reflection in it looked twisted and broken, eyes red, lips trembling. The sound of rain filled the car until it drowned everything else, even the small, muffled cry that slipped from me.
Somewhere far from the storm, behind the walls of an old study, a single door was left ajar. The faint glow from the hallway crept through, slicing a narrow line of light across the room. Dust floated in the air, still and unbothered.
A tall man stood near the center, dressed in a dark wedding suit, a flower pinned neatly to his pocket. His posture was calm, almost eerily composed, his hands folded behind his back as he stared at the framed photograph before him.
In the dim light, the image became clearer — a wedding picture. A woman in a white gown, soft and fragile, smiling like she had never known fear. Beside her stood the same man, his eyes cold and dead, his face unreadable.
For a while, he said nothing. The silence was so deep it pressed against the walls.
Then the door creaked open wider, and the light slipped further in, spilling across the wall. The streak caught three more frames — each one a wedding portrait. Different brides, same man. Every woman wore the same smile of hope, the same white gown, the same doomed look in their eyes if one looked long enough.
The man beside them never changed. Same cold face. Same lifeless stare.
Footsteps broke the silence. Another man entered, dressed in black, his movements controlled and deliberate. He didn't bow. He didn't show fear.
"Master," he said, his voice low and steady, "the bride has run away."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
The man before the frame tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint, humorless smile. A low chuckle escaped him — quiet, brief, and sharp.
"Bravery and a death wish," he murmured, his voice calm but laced with venom, "always walk together."
He turned slightly, just enough for the light to catch the edge of his face. His eyes were empty, unreadable.
"Bring her back alive," he said, almost bored now. "It's getting tiresome burying them."