A storage closet door stands ajar. Through the crack: Stephanie, her bridesmaid dress bunched at her waist, Clark pinning her to the wall, both of them lost in each other. In betrayal.
The bouquet slips from my fingers. It lands with a muffled thud that sounds thunderous in the hush.
They don’t notice. They’re absorbed, oblivious.
I step back. One, two paces. My heart pounds, but my feet move on their own, propelling me away before I scream or collapse or beg for an explanation I never want to hear.
Back in the bridal suite, I lock the door. My reflection stares out from beneath smeared makeup, drained and unrecognizable. The future I was supposed to want has shattered.
My hands tremble as I reach for my phone.
Lori. Need you. Now.
Three dots appear.
Coming. What happened?
I can’t write it. Typing would make it real.
Just come. Please.
I sink onto the ottoman. The veil snags on the chair and yanks my scalp. I rip it off. Hairpins scatter across the carpet like tiny shrapnel.
A gentle knock at the door. “Beth? It’s me.”
I unlock it. Lori slips in, her dress the same blue as Stephanie’s, but she wears it without malice. Her eyes meet mine. She knows.
“What happened?” Her voice is sharp and soft at the same time.
“Clark. Stephanie.” My words are flat, hollow. “Together. In the storage closet.”
Her face darkens, then turns fierce. “That bastard. That absolute—” She chokes back curses and takes my hands, which are ice. “Beth, what do you want? Tell me.”
What do I want? For the first time, I know.
“I want to leave.”
“The venue? We can go—”
“No.” I stand, hands trembling. “I want out. The wedding. This town. All of it.”
Understanding clicks in her eyes. She nods. “Okay. Let’s get you out of this dress.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in jeans and a button-up, hair scraped back, eyes scrubbed raw. The gown lies deflated on the floor. My reflection is my own again.
“What’s the plan?” Lori rifles through my overnight bag.
“I don’t have one.” My voice is steadying. “Just get in the car and go.”
“Your parents—”
“Let them worry.” For once, the thought is delicious. “They’ll blame me, anyway. Stephanie never does wrong.”
Lori nods. She knows the drill.
“I’ll make a scene.” She smiles. “No one will notice you’re gone. Give it five minutes.”
I hug her tightly. “Thank you. I’ll call when I stop.”
