A high-pitched ringing hums in my ears, like my brain is trying to scream its way out of my skull.
I sit motionless on a velvet ottoman, tucked into the corner of the room. I’m drowning in a dress I didn’t choose, waiting to be walked down an aisle I never agreed to.
The gown is stunning, but it isn’t mine.
Layers of stiff tulle scratch at my legs, heavy beading digs into the soft skin of my collarbones, and the off-white satin makes me look pale. The train drags behind me every time I shift, trailing like a leash that won’t loosen.
The makeup? Impeccable.
Contoured cheekbones, glossy lips, and lashes so long they reach my eyebrows. A perfect face painted onto a crumbling woman. The old me would’ve eaten this shit up, but, she’s dead now. Dead and buried somewhere betweenmy mother’s grave and the day I stopped pretending my father could ever love me.
I stare at the mirror across the room, and a stranger stares back at me.
Mascara runs in messy rivulets, bleeding down my face, dragging my foundation with it. No one’s here to wipe them away. Just the absence of a comforting hand, the missing rush of a best friend with tissues, and the aching silence where whispered jokes are supposed to be.
Daddy Dearest wouldn’t allow my friends anywhere near the venue. And since he’s such a loving father, he took my phone away.
God, could he be any more of a douchebag?
I suck in a breath too fast, and it turns into a jagged gasp. My ribs strain against the bodice, the fabric pressing in like it’s trying to crush the fight out of me. I claw at the fabric with trembling fingers, as if loosening it will release the weight pressing down on my chest.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe, but the air in this room feels artificial. The distant memory keeps circulating in my head, and all I can think about is that small, stupid town I swore I hated.
Ruby Ridge.
The quiet little town tucked away in the corner of Tennessee, where the sky stretched wide and the air smelled like sun-drenched grass and fresh earth. I remember sneaking out to the fence line to feel the wind on my skin, as the silence curled around me like a hug I didn’t know I needed.
The sound of his horses neighing in the pasture, and the warmth of the sun baking my arms when I picked wildflowers as he mowed in the distance.
I miss it. I miss him.
I miss Carter’s sideways glances when he thought I wasn’t looking. The way his strong jaw twitched every time I said something that annoyed him, but his eyes always softened. I miss the way he looked at me when I was a mess—sweaty, covered in hay, my boots ruined from stepping in horse shit—and still made me feel like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
God. I actually miss horse shit.
A laugh breaks out of me. It gets caught halfway, tangled with a sob, sticking in my throat like a lump of grief I can’t swallow down.
Because this life? This marble-tiled, cold-silk, air-conditioned cage?
It was never mine.
I rise on unsteady legs, my knees wobbly beneath the weight of the dress and everything it stands for. The lace catches under my heels as I cross the room, nearly sending me to the ground. I don’t steady myself, I keep moving toward the mirror.
I stare at the reflection of a woman I don’t recognize—painted, perfect, polished for a man she doesn’t want.
A stranger draped in white lies and stitched promises she never made.
Tears welled again, carving fresh trails through the foundation caked on my cheeks.
This isn’t me.
A past version of me would’ve killed for a wedding like this—dripping in diamonds, designer names etched into every inch of this expensive dress. It’s fucking beautiful, no doubt.
But it’s not what I want anymore.
I wantmylife.
I slam my palm against the vanity. A perfume bottle tumbles off the edge, exploding against the marble floor, glass, rose, and destruction spilling across my reflection.
