*FAYE'S POV*
Should have been a day of joy. It should have been the start of something beautiful. But as I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my reflection staring back at me in that pristine white wedding dress, I couldn't help but feel a knot in my stomach.
The dress was stunning… The lace hugged my body just right, the fabric shimmered under the lights, and the long train swept elegantly behind me. But I didn't see any of that. All I saw was a lie.
This was supposed to be the beginning of my happily ever after, the day I chose to commit my life to Desmond. I should've been excited, filled with anticipation. But instead, I felt like I was suffocating, trapped in a gilded cage I had built for myself.
I glanced over at Desmond, who was seated on a plush chair by the fitting room, his eyes calmly trained on me. His face was unreadable, and his posture relaxed. It wasn't the look of a man who was about to marry the woman he claimed to love. No, it was the look of someone who was merely waiting to see what dress I would pick, the one that would suit his image of the perfect bride.
I could feel my heart racing. The weight of it all was unbearable. For so long, I had been living in a fog, convincing myself that Desmond was the one. But now, as I stood there, with my wedding dress on and my future seemingly set, the truth was undeniable.
He didn't love me.
He never had.
And the worst part? He didn't even care.
Tila.
That was the name that haunted me, the name that had been a constant shadow in the back of my mind. Desmond's real love wasn't me—it was my sister, Tila. I had been blind to it for so long, so eager to play the role of the perfect fiancée. But now, it all made sense. Every time he pulled away, every time he avoided my gaze, every time he found an excuse not to kiss me or hold me—it was because his heart was never mine.
It was always hers.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I glanced down at the bouquet in my hands. The white lilies felt like a joke in my fingers. I could almost hear the whispers from the other brides in the shop, the excited gasps as they dreamed of their wedding days.
But I wasn't dreaming anymore. I was awake. And I was done.
I walked towards him slowly, my heels clicking against the polished floor with each step. Desmond didn't look up and didn't seem to notice the change in my demeanor. His attention was still on the wedding dress I wore, no doubt evaluating it in his head, trying to picture how perfect it would look for the guests.
The bouquet felt heavier in my hands. Without hesitation, I brought it down on his head with a swift, hard motion.
"Faye!" Desmond's eyes widened in shock as he recoiled, lifting his hands to his head, his face flushed with confusion. But I didn't care. I didn't care about his confusion or his attempts to play the victim.
"You never loved me," I said, my voice low but clear. "You never even cared about me. You wanted me for one thing: to get close to Tila."
Desmond's mouth opened, but no words came out. He just stared at me, stunned and speechless. His hand slowly moved to his head, where the bouquet had shattered against him. The flowers were scattered across the floor.
"I—I don't understand…" Desmond stammered, standing up now, his face a mixture of disbelief and panic. "Faye, what are you saying? I—I love you."
"No, you don't," I cut him off sharply. "You never loved me. You loved my sister. You've always loved her."
Desmond took a step towards me, his face now desperate, but I wasn't going to let him come any closer. My hands shook, but it wasn't from fear. It was from rage. I was finally done. I had let this go on for far too long.
Desmond's face turned pale, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Faye… please, listen to me," he said, his voice softening, a pleading note in it now. "I—"
"Save it," I spat, cutting him off again. "There's nothing you can say that will make this okay. You've been lying to me from the beginning. The least you could have done was be honest."
Desmond took another step towards me, his hands outstretched in a futile attempt to calm me down. "Faye, please. I know I've made mistakes, but I was only trying to save my family. I had to do this. You don't understand. I had no choice."
"Save your family?" I repeated, laughing bitterly. "You wanted to marry me because you thought I was your ticket to a better life. You knew Tila would never marry a man like you because you're poor, so you thought if you married me, you could still have her. You're pathetic."
He dropped to his knees, his face filled with regret and shame, but I didn't feel sorry for him. I didn't care about his regrets. I cared about the lie he had built around me for years.
"Faye," he begged, his voice cracking now, "I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. I was just trying to protect myself. I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be stuck in that pub forever. Tila wouldn't settle for someone like me. But with you… with you, I could have a life. I could be close to her."
I felt sick. I felt every ounce of my soul screaming at me to just walk away, to leave him there and never look back. But I needed one final act, something to make it clear that I was done.
I glanced over at the wedding dress hanging from the rack beside me, and without another thought, I grabbed the pair of scissors from the counter nearby. The sound of the fabric ripping echoed through the room as I tore into the gown with a fury I hadn't even known I possessed. The silky material shredded in my hands, the gown falling in tattered pieces around me.
Desmond's face was one of pure horror as he watched the dress he had so carefully chosen with me come apart before his eyes. But this wasn't just about the dress. This was about my freedom. This was about cutting the ties that had bound me to him, to a future that was never mine.
I turned to face him, the scissors still in my hand, the remnants of the dress on the floor at my feet.
"This is over, Desmond," I said, my voice steady. "You're not going to marry me. Not now. Not ever."
I didn't know Tila was hiding from the shop and heard everything that was being said. She had managed to remain out
of sight, listening in on the conversation without being detected.