Maria's wedding was a grand affair, the kind of event that had people talking for weeks. The venue was an opulent estate on the city's outskirts, draped in white and gold with floral arrangements that whispered of extravagance. Guests arrived in their finest attire, mingling over champagne and canapés while a string quartet played in the background.
Vincent stood at the edge of the crowd, his expression unreadable as he watched Maria move through the room with her new husband, Daniel. She looked stunning in her wedding dress, her smile bright enough to rival the chandeliers. Yet, to Vincent, there was something haunting about her happiness—something too polished, too perfect.
As the chairman of the wedding, Vincent had a front-row seat to the entire spectacle. Maria had insisted on the role, laughing at his protests. "Think of it as a test," she'd said. "Let's see if you can handle it."
And so, here he was, raising a glass to toast the happy couple while his chest tightened with every forced smile. He had thought the worst of his pain would come from watching her say, "I do," but the real agony lay in seeing her pretend to belong to a life that didn't suit her.
Daniel was, by all appearances, the perfect husband. He was tall, good-looking, and polite to a fault. A successful architect, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of a man who knew his worth but didn't feel the need to flaunt it.
Throughout the reception, Daniel stayed close to Maria, his hand resting lightly on her back as they greeted guests. Vincent found himself studying the man, searching for cracks in his polished veneer. He wanted to believe that Daniel wasn't as perfect as he seemed and that Maria had settled for mediocrity. But the truth was, Daniel seemed...good.
The thought unsettled Vincent more than he cared to admit.
As the night wore on, Vincent found himself retreating to the quieter corners of the venue. He nursed his drink and watched the celebration unfold—a swirl of laughter, music, and champagne. Maria was everywhere, her laughter ringing out as she danced with her friends, her face lighting up as Daniel spun her around the dance floor.
She looked happy. And yet, Vincent couldn't shake the feeling that it was all an act.
Late in the evening, Maria slipped away from the crowd and found Vincent by the terrace. She leaned against the railing, her face glowing in the soft light.
"You're brooding," she said, her tone teasing.
"It's a wedding," he replied. "Isn't that what everyone does?"
Maria laughed softly, but there was a hint of melancholy in her eyes. "What do you think?" she asked, gesturing to the celebration behind her.
"It's beautiful," he said. "You've outdone yourself."
She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "And Daniel? What do you think of him?"
Vincent hesitated. "He seems like a good man."
"He is," she said, her voice quiet. "He's everything I should want."
"But?"
Maria looked away, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "But nothing," she said finally. "This is the life I chose. I just have to make it work."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. For a moment, Vincent wanted to grab her, to tell her to walk away from the life she was forcing herself into. But he knew better. Maria was nothing if not stubborn, and once she made a decision, there was no turning back.
The weeks following the wedding were a study in contrasts. For Maria, life settled into a new routine. She and Daniel moved into a beautiful townhouse in an upscale neighbourhood, complete with a garden and a home office for each of them. She threw herself into the role of a wife, hosting dinner parties and redecorating the house with her characteristic flair.
But behind the scenes, the cracks began to show.
Daniel was a kind man, but his kindness often came with an edge of naivety. He adored Maria but didn't always understand her complexities. He saw her as the lively, creative woman he'd fallen in love with, but he didn't see the darker parts—the restless energy that made her push boundaries, the scars from a past she rarely spoke about.
Maria found herself playing a role, performing the version of herself that Daniel expected. It wasn't that she didn't care for him; she did. But their relationship lacked the raw honesty she had shared with Vincent.
Meanwhile, Vincent's life felt increasingly hollow. He threw himself into work, expanding his business empire with a relentless drive. On the surface, he was more successful than ever, but beneath the veneer of accomplishment lay a growing sense of dissatisfaction.
He and Maria kept their distance, exchanging the occasional text but avoiding any real contact. Vincent told himself it was for the best and that they both needed to move on. But he couldn't stop thinking about her and the way she had looked at him on her wedding night, her eyes filled with a sadness she couldn't put into words.
One evening, Vincent found himself at a gallery opening, surrounded by strangers and abstract art. He had been invited by a colleague and had come more out of obligation than interest. But as he wandered through the exhibit, his attention was caught by a familiar signature on one of the paintings.
It was Maria's work—a vibrant, chaotic piece that seemed to pulse with energy. It was unlike anything she had ever shown him before, and he couldn't look away.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice said beside him.
Vincent turned to see the gallery owner, a middle-aged woman with an air of sophistication.
"It is," he said. "The artist Maria, is she here?"
The woman shook her head. "No, she couldn't make it tonight. But her work is incredible, isn't it? So raw, so honest."
Raw. Honest. The words stayed with Vincent as he left the gallery. Maria had always poured her soul into her art, but this piece felt different. It felt like a glimpse into her inner turmoil, a reflection of the life she was struggling to reconcile.
Their paths crossed again a few weeks later, at another charity event. Maria was there with Daniel, the perfect picture of a happy couple. But when their eyes met across the room, Vincent felt the familiar pull—the unspoken connection that refused to fade.
Later that night, as the event wound down, Maria found him on the balcony.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, though her tone lacked conviction.
"I couldn't stay away," he admitted.
Maria sighed, running a hand through her hair. "We can't keep doing this, Vincent. I'm married now. You have family. We need to let go."
"Do you really believe that?" he asked, stepping closer.
She hesitated, her resolve wavering. "I don't know what I believe anymore," she said finally.
As the night wore on, Vincent found himself retreating to the edges of the celebration. He watched Maria dance with Daniel, her laughter ringing out as the band played a lively tune.
She looked happy—convincingly so. But Vincent, who knew her better than most, saw the cracks beneath the surface.
When Maria finally approached him, it was under the pretence of thanking him for his speech.
"You're a natural," she said, her voice light but her eyes serious.
"And you're a vision," he replied, his tone laced with something unspoken.
They stood in silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background.
"You did well tonight," Maria said finally. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here. For... everything."
Vincent hesitated, his resolve wavering. "Are you happy, Maria?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
It wasn't an answer, not really. But it was all he was going to get.
For a moment again, they stood in silence, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them. And then, without thinking, Vincent reached for her hand.
"Whatever this is," he said, his voice low, "it's not over."
Maria didn't pull away. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and regret. "Maybe it never will be," she whispered.
As the night wound down, Vincent left the reception feeling hollower than he had anticipated. Maria had made her choice, and he had played his part.
But as he drove home, the weight of the evening settled over him like a suffocating blanket. The truth was, their story wasn't over—not by a long shot. And deep down, Vincent knew it was only a matter of time before their lives collided once again.