The cloud couldn't get louder. The atmosphere was filled with joy. Hands kept Clapping over and over again.
With the vows exchanged, the priest smiled warmly and declared, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
A sense of finality washed over me as the weight of those words settled in. I was now married to Marcus, bound to him by this forced union.
My heart felt heavy, and I couldn't help but steal one last look towards the horizon, where the memories of my past love lingered like a gentle breeze.
"You may now kiss the bride,"
As Marcus turned towards me, his eyes sparkled with satisfaction and triumph. He reached out, placing a possessive hand on my waist, and leaned in for the anticipated kiss, anything but soft and gentle. It felt hollow and devoid of the passion and love I had once known.
In the depths of my heart, I clung to the memories of Pablo, the way his touch made me feel alive, and the sound of his laughter that warmed my soul.
But those memories were now tainted with the guilt of betrayal, a constant reminder of the love I had forsaken.
The vow time was now over and it was time for the grand celebration. As we entered the grand hall, the guests erupted in cheers and applause, welcoming the newlyweds with enthusiasm.
The sight of the opulent venue took my breath away. The hall was adorned with sparkling chandeliers, cascading flowers, and luxurious décor fit for a fairytale.
The beauty of it all was overwhelming, but beneath the splendour, I sensed a strange air of pretence among the guests.
Everyone looked beautiful and polished in white and brown and a few of them covered in black, their smiles as dazzling as their attire.
But something about their expressions felt forced like they were playing their parts in an elaborate stage production.
As I manage to look around. A bunch of questions hit my head. Where are his parents? Does he have siblings? Are there any other relatives joining us tonight? Do we have more psychos in the circle?
In truth, I didn't know much about Marcus's family, and I had never met them. It was just another aspect of this marriage that felt strange and distant.
As the guests continued to shower us with compliments. A well-dressed woman approached us, her eyes brimming with enthusiasm. "Camilla, my dear, you look positively radiant today," she exclaimed, clasping my hand.
"Thank you," I replied with a gracious smile, trying to hide the turmoil within.
Marcus, ever the charming groom, joined the conversation. "Indeed, Camilla is the most beautiful bride I've ever seen," he said, his tone convincingly affectionate. The devil is covered in vanilla ice cream.
The woman nodded in agreement, seemingly oblivious to the tension that lingered beneath the surface. "You two make such a lovely couple. By the way, I'm Odette"
"Nice meeting you, Odette," At least she was nice. She moved on to greet other guests.
I looked at the guests around. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in my heart. My own family was far away. The absence of my mother on this important day left an emptiness that nothing could fill.
As the night wore on, the splendidness of the hall and the extravagance of the celebration became a blur.
The forced smiles and polite conversations weighed heavily on me, and I found myself yearning for a moment of genuine connection amidst the pretence.
Amid the lavishness and extravagance, I longed for something real, something that felt true and sincere. But in this world of feigned affections and calculated gestures, it felt like a distant dream.
After keeping up with the appearances, playing the role of the happy bride added a burden to the choice I had already made. If only my heart was of flesh, my chest would be covered with litres of blood.
Marcus turned to me, his face alight with excitement. "Camilla, my love, we're finally husband and wife," he whispered, attempting to take my hand in his.
I forced a smile, nodding as I allowed him to clasp my hand, but the touch felt as cold as ice against my skin. "Yes, Marcus, we are," I replied, my voice strained.
"Smile, my dear," Marcus whispered again, his grip tightening on my hand. "This is the happiest day of our lives."
I managed to offer a more genuine smile this time, though it still felt heavy. "Correction, it is the happiest day of your life," I replied, my voice carrying a touch of sadness and anger.
He smirked at the words, "And tonight, we will celebrate my happiness. Better not ruin it," His whisper screamed aggressiveness.
Later on, Marcus went to a bunch of other guys, elegant and handsome. They possessed every trait of a rich man. Elegant dark suits fitted with white shirts, shining hair that were elegantly styled and watches made of gold or silver.
Meanwhile, I was left alone. I had no one who knew me. This was Marcus' day indeed, not mine. I sighed.
As the celebration continued, a woman I had never seen before approached me with an air of confidence.
She extended her hand, and I reluctantly shook it. Her black dress resembled that of a princess but her look resembled that of Cinderella's stepmother.
"Hello there, I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Graciana, a close friend of Marcus."
And I, forcing a smile: "Nice to meet you."
Graciana, her smile never faltering: "Oh, yes, I heard about your sudden union. Quite the fairy tale, isn't it?"
Graciana or whatever your name is, my life is already at the edge of a knife. Could you please stop trying to add more drama? And no, this is a devil's tale.
How I wished I could roll my eyes and tell her those words instead of saying them inside my head.
"It's been eventful." I managed to smile.
Graciana, leaning in slightly: "Oh, I'm sure it has been. People can't stop talking about it."
Meanwhile, trying to remain composed: "People will always find something to talk about."
Graciana, smirking, "Indeed they will. But you should be careful, my dear. Marcus is a man with many interests, and I can't imagine he'd be satisfied with such a simple life."
Her words cut like a knife, and I fought to keep my emotions in check. I knew Marcus had ulterior motives for this marriage.
Graciana's warning only served as a painful reminder of how my new life would look like, succeeding in her intention as I was already not at ease.
"I'm well aware of the complexities of our situation." I managed to answer her.
Graciana, stepping back: "Oh, I'm sure you are. But just remember, you're not the only one in the picture."
With that, she sauntered away. The room was warm and comforting but as she stormed out, I felt chills and goosebumps. A little horror feeling that I didn't like.
As I moved through the crowd, I couldn't escape the stares and hushed whispers from the other women. They talked as if I couldn't hear them, discussing my lack of prestige and the scandal of this marriage.
Woman 1, speaking discreetly: "Did you see her? She doesn't belong here."
Woman 2, with a judgmental frown: "I heard she was just a commoner. Marcus must have some hidden agenda."
Woman 3, raising an eyebrow: "It's all rather suspicious, don't you think?"
Their gossip was like a constant buzz in my ears, and I felt the weight of their judgment bearing down on me. It was as if I was on display for their entertainment, and I longed to escape their prying eyes.
Why was God letting all of this happen? I hid myself in the corner. I slowly closed my eyes and breathed in and out.
I am going to be okay.
No, I'm not going to be okay. I will never be okay. I kept having these contradictions until a sense of strong scents of perfume hit my nose. Looking in front of me, the devils in human forms decided to come and burn me.
Three strange women in black everything stood in front of me.
"So you are the girl who outlined us, huh?" one of them said.