The venue was breathtaking. Chandeliers bathed the hall in golden light, casting a warm glow over the rows of neatly arranged chairs. Flowers lined the aisle, the scent of roses filling the air. Every little detail had been carefully planned, each piece falling into place like a puzzle finally complete.
This was the day Sofia and I had been working toward for months. She had been so involved in every decision, fussing over invitations, centerpieces, and dress fittings. Her excitement had been infectious—contagious even. I played my part, the devoted fiancé, eager to build a future with the woman I loved.
And now, as I stood at the front of the aisle, hands clasped tightly together, I waited.
The music swelled, the cue for the bridesmaids to make their entrance. The moment they stepped into view, a ripple of confusion spread through the guests. Murmurs, hushed whispers, and shifting glances filled the room.
Every single one of them was wearing black.
They were supposed to be in sky-blue dresses with matching hats—Sofia had handpicked the shade herself. But instead, their figures were draped in darkness. Black fabric flowed around them as they glided down the aisle, their expressions unreadable.
Elena, my sister, was among them. She met my gaze as she passed, her lips curling ever so slightly into a smirk. Then, she winked.
The guests shifted uncomfortably. Some turned to one another, whispering. Others just stared, waiting for an explanation. But I remained silent, my expression calm.
Because everything was going exactly as I had planned.
And then, the moment of truth arrived.
Sofia appeared at the entrance, radiant as ever, her ivory dress cascading around her like a waterfall. She clutched her bouquet tightly, her eyes scanning the crowd. It took a second for her to register the unusual sight. The confusion on her face deepened, her gaze darting from one bridesmaid to the next. Her steps faltered.
She looked at me, her brows knitting together.
As she made her way down the aisle, she held her composure, but I could see the tension in her grip, the way her smile wavered slightly at the edges. When she finally reached me, she leaned in, voice low but urgent.
“What’s going on?” she whispered, her smile still plastered in place for the audience.
I let out a small, humorless laugh.
“This isn’t a wedding, Sofia,” I said, my voice carrying just enough for the guests to hear. “It’s a funeral.”
A sharp intake of breath. Her face paled beneath the layers of expertly applied makeup.
“What are you talking about?” she gasped.
I turned toward the crowd, my expression one of cold amusement.
“We’re here to bury what’s left of our love. Or, more accurately,” I said, meeting her wide, terrified eyes, “what you killed.”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Sofia’s lips parted, but no words came. Her carefully constructed poise shattered, giving way to the panic she could no longer conceal.
The guests were frozen, the weight of my words settling over them like a thick fog. Some exchanged bewildered glances, while others leaned forward, hanging onto every second of unfolding chaos.
Elena was the first to break the silence. She reached into the folds of her black dress and pulled out her phone. “Shall we start with Exhibit A?” she asked, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
The screen lit up, and in full view of everyone, the first of many incriminating messages appeared. Messages Sofia had sent. Declarations of love. Plans for secret meetings. Desperate words of passion—meant for someone else.
Sofia’s breath hitched.
I tilted my head, watching her reaction with detached curiosity.
“Tell me, Sofia,” I said, lowering my voice just enough that she would feel the weight of my words. “How long were you going to keep lying to me?”
She swallowed hard. “I—this isn’t—”
“Shall we move on to the pictures?” Elena interrupted, her tone bright and ruthless.
With a few taps, images filled the screen. Sofia in the arms of another man. Their faces pressed close in the dim lighting of a hotel room. A stolen kiss, frozen in time.
The gasps from the guests were deafening. Someone muttered something under their breath. Another person let out a shocked laugh.
Sofia staggered back. Her bouquet slipped from her fingers, petals scattering across the floor like broken promises.
“You set this up,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the murmurs and shocked exclamations of the crowd.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear.
“No, Sofia,” I murmured. “You set this up the moment you decided to betray me.”
Her eyes were wild now, her hands trembling at her sides.
“Please,” she said, voice cracking. “Let’s talk about this privately—”
I smiled. A slow, deliberate smile.
“No,” I said, glancing around at the guests, who were now fully invested in the spectacle. “You didn’t care about privacy when you made a fool of me. Why should I give you that courtesy now?”
Tears welled in her eyes.
I turned back to the audience, taking in the stunned faces. My voice rang out, steady and clear.
“This was supposed to be a wedding. A celebration of love, trust, and loyalty. But today, we gather not to witness a union—but to lay to rest the illusion of it.”
I motioned to the bridesmaids.
“And what better way to honor the dead than in mourning?”
Sofia let out a broken sob.
I straightened my tie, exhaled deeply, and turned toward the exit.
“Enjoy the reception, everyone,” I said over my shoulder. “Drinks are on me.”
As I walked away, the whispers turned into full-blown chatter. Some guests stared at Sofia with disbelief. Others murmured words of sympathy—or satisfaction.
Elena caught up with me just as I reached the doors, a smug grin on her face. “Well, that went even better than expected,” she said, slipping her arm through mine.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The weight that had been suffocating me for weeks lifted.
I had mourned this love long before today. Now, it was time to move on.
As I stepped into the sunlight, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.
Relief.
