The air is thick with the scent of roses and salt, a bittersweet blend that clings to me as I stand at the edge of the garden, watching as my future unfurls before me again.
The ceremony is in full swing, laughter mingling with the soft notes of a string quartet drifting through the warm afternoon. But all I can feel is a tightening knot in my chest that no amount of floral arrangements can ease.
I had rehearsed this moment countless times in my past life. I smiled gracefully and nodded at well-wishers while clutching my bouquet like it was a lifeline. I had done all that to please people who despised me for taking Sunny's place. I had been the perfect bride.
But now? Now I am nothing but an actress who has forgotten her lines. When I get the chance, I slip away from the gathering. My heart races as I pick up the hem of my dress and run—run fast—as if fleeing from not just this wedding but my life as a whole. The wind whips past my face, blowing the tears dry as I sprint, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I only stop when I reach the small cliff at the edge of the island, my hand flaring out to stabilise myself as I nearly fall. A small pebble tumbles over the edge, and my scalp goes numb.
Gasping for air, I take a few steps back and bend over, coughing. "Why didn't I come back sooner? Why?" I keep repeating to myself as the gentle sea breeze sweeps past me.
"No," I tell myself fiercely through gritted teeth, "this marriage has to end." No matter the consequences, I have to end this. Whether my parents like it or not, it has to end.
Even if I get ostracized and mocked, I will not walk the same path and I will get my revenge. After being given such a chance it would be a shame not to tear my sister's perfect mask for the world to see.
With newfound determination burning bright in my eyes, I turn back toward the villa, ignoring the eyes of the security guards standing around. I know they must have followed me here, but I don't care. I head around to the back door of the villa and find some servers taking a break, smoking. When they see me they freeze as though afraid I will reprimand them. They stand up abruptly and exclaim, "Madam!" but I wave them off, telling them to relax.
"Can I please have a cigarette?" I ask, and the three youths look a little stunned. One exclaims nervously while another fumbles his cigarette nervously between his fingers before frantically reaching into his pockets and opening a pack of cheap cigarettes, offering me one.
"Thank you," I say, taking it. They keep looking at me, confused. I smile slightly and ask, "Do any of you have a lighter?" Another young man flicks a lighter and lights it for me. "Thanks," I say softly as I casually lean against the cold stone wall. That one drag feels somehow grounding amidst everything spiralling chaotically around me.
I haven't smoked in years. To be precise, I was instructed to stop smoking ever since I was granted the unfortunate title of future Mrs. Kingsley. It was just one of the many rules, but I didn't particularly oppose it since it was good for me to quit.
Now, though, I need this moment to calm my nerves and prepare for what I was about to do. I take a deep drag, feeling the smoke fill my lungs, and exhale slowly, watching the tendrils of smoke curl into the air.
With a flick of my wrist, I toss the bud onto the cobblestone path and crush it under my stiletto heel. Picking it up, I throw it in the trash before turning to the young men. "Thanks again," I say, offering a small smile.
As I step through the busy kitchen, the air thickens with savoury aromas. Chefs dart around with precision, plating dishes that look as if they were crafted by angels. Their eyes meet mine for just a moment as they greet me "Carry on," I smile softly and they nod respectfully before continuing with their work.
I slip up the stairs. The guests are still in the garden having cocktails, so the villa is almost empty. Along the way, a few maids pause as I pass. They step aside, offering polite greetings while their eyes widen at my appearance. Their gazes are kind yet cautious. They know better than to pry but they still fail to hide their surprise. Seeing the bride's tear-streaked face, messed-up makeup, and slightly messy hair, who wouldn't be surprised?
I reach what should have been our honeymoon suite and enter the bedroom. I push open the door to the room, my eyes immediately drawn to the decorations I painstakingly arranged. Soft, white fairy lights draped across the ceiling, casting a warm, romantic glow.
The bed is adorned with rose petals, forming a heart shape in the centre. Delicate lace curtains frame the windows, swaying gently in the breeze from the open balcony doors. A bottle of champagne sits in a silver bucket on the bedside table, flanked by two crystal flutes.
It's a tradition in the Kingsley family for the new bride to decorate this room, a task I took on with a mix of hope and resignation. I sneer, remembering how in my past life, I lay in this cold bed alone crying, my so-called husband not showing his face until the next day. Not only that, this room was also where I found out the truth about my dearest sister and her affair with Roan.
I walk over to the bed, running my fingers through the rose petals, scattering them. The romantic setting feels like a cruel joke now. I grab the champagne, my fingers trembling slightly as I pop the cork. The sound echoes in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. I lift the bottle to my lips, taking a large gulp directly from it. The cold, bubbly liquid rushes down my throat, some of it dripping from the corner of my lips and trailing down my neck. I don't bother wiping it away. Instead, I take another gulp, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through me.
While taking another sip, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, a reflection draped in silk and lace but marred by remnants of tears and mascara streaks down my cheeks like smudged charcoal on canvas. An eerie smile curls upon my lips as I reach up to remove my diamond earrings.
Just as I am removing the second earring, there's a sudden forceful shove against the doorframe followed by an angry bark from behind it: "Selene!"
My father's angry voice reverberates through the room as my mother follows, closing the door and locking it behind her. It is good that they brought themselves to my doorstep. It saves me the trouble of looking for them.