Weddings were supposed to be dyed in white. Hers was dyed in ocean blue tears watering away at visions of happily ever—Who was Prisana trying to fool? Her engagement to Giovanni was a far cry from happily ever after.

Friends congratulated them, envious and enamored at their open displays of affection. The media showered them endlessly as they—the star couple of New Jersey's wealthiest pair of the century— radiated their fake beautiful smiles. Smiles so beautiful you'd think you would start to believe in the crystal sheen lies.

Scratch beneath the surface.

Giovanni was Prisana's happily ever after from the moment she breathed life. The only choice like other only choices she had been given. Prisana loved the idea of him. Rich, intelligent, and handsome Giovanni as her husband to be.

He loved the idea of her too but Giovanni chased skirts on Sundays. Prisana attended church on Sundays.

But that was okay because her father said so. His words were always right. Always the impeccable guidance that she trusted but shouldn't. But he's all Prisana knew. All she had.

'Dear, it's alright for men to indulge in their desires. Giovanni is young but he loves you.'

'You'll marry him. When you do...I'll be the proudest father in all of New Jersey.'

'You're my daughter. The daughter of the man who has built his empire from the ground up and will marry into the Blair's. This is for you. Your bright future.'

Prisana Visalyaputra was a senator's daughter, born and raised in the southern upscale part of New Jersey. A daddy's girl—well mannered, smart spoken, and sheltered. Never went against her daddy's wishes from birth until she was old enough to understand where her foundation came from.

Her foundation was built to ultimately stream down a one track hill diving for safe, security, and comfort. But that foundation has begun to crumble into harrowing bits and pieces.

The pearls once lined elegantly among the folds of her up-do lay scattered onto the marble wooden floorboards. Hours of makeup now streamed down under the dim vanity lights.

Prisana's breath hitched in between sobs as his voice boomed through her ears.

"Prisana," his crisply rough voice cut through from the other side of the door. "Open the door. Let's talk about this."

Talk? Talk about how her best friend of twenty years was writhing underneath her husband to be's cock? The news might already be spreading.

'Woman's best friend sleeps with her husband on the day of the wedding'.

How classic.

Oh betrayal hurt like a bitch. It cut through her heart like a thousand razor sharp edged arrows. Ran her eyes swollen dry. Tore at her until she could do nothing but stare motionlessly at the wall.

Of course her dear father would tell her everything was okay. She would not blame him. Prisana could never blame him. After all he was her only father and was only doing what he thought would be best.

Yet she knew that if she opened that door, then her fate will be sealed. The pair would still be married in the next fifteen minutes. They would smile so beautifully, say their vows, and kiss under the grand white arch of blooming roses overlooking the lakeside.

Prisana turned to look at the door.

At her future.

For the first time in her life she didn't want to listen to his beautiful lies. They say people can't choose their families but they can always choose where their loyalties lie. Before the clock struck five, she would have never believed this saying. When the clock struck five and Prisana witnessed more truths, she knew she would have to choose her own loyalty.

Choose.

Make that long overdue choice.

Prisana slipped off the ten thousand diamond ring. She shed off her heels. Tore off the long over skirt meant to grace the walkway of forever.

The silky bountiful layers felt like thick ice to her fingers as she gathered them in fistfuls.

Then she finally made a choice.

Not the door.

The window.