I sat in front of the mirror, my fingers grazing the lace of my wedding dress, tracing the delicate floral patterns stitched into the fabric. My heart raced in my chest, excitement bubbling up like a shaken bottle of champagne.
Today was the day.
A slow breath filled my lungs, thick with the scent of peonies and roses from my bouquet resting nearby.
I was marrying Sam.
The love of my life.
The man who had once handed me a single daisy in the middle of a summer rainstorm, grinning as if he had plucked the sun itself just for me. The man who memorized my coffee order down to the extra shot of vanilla before I even realized I had a regular order. The one who, without fail, kissed my forehead every night, whether we were tangled in laughter or in the middle of an argument.
Sam was my safe place.
A tear pricked at the corner of my eye, and I laughed at myself, dabbing it away before it could fall.
“Careful,” my maid of honor, Lauren, teased from the doorway, holding out a flute of champagne. “We spent way too long on your makeup for you to ruin it now.”
I took the glass, shaking my head with a nervous smile. “I just…” My voice wavered. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“You’re about to be a wife,” Lauren smirked.
A wife.
The word sent a thrill through me. Because this wasn’t just a wedding.
It was our wedding. Our beginning.
And in just thirty minutes, I’d be walking down the aisle, toward the man I had loved for what felt like a lifetime.
Everything was perfect. The flowers, the music, the quiet hum of our guests. I stood at the altar, heart pounding, my fingers curled around my bouquet as I locked eyes with Sam, my fiancé of five years.
We were seconds away from forever.
Then, the door creaked open.
The sound cut through the silence like a knife, and every head in the room turned.
A woman walked in.
Her heels clicked against the floor in slow, deliberate strides. She was stunning. Long, dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, her lips painted a sharp, bold red. But it wasn’t her beauty that sent a chill through me.
It was the way she looked at Sam.
My Sam.
“Aren’t you going to tell them?” she asked, her voice smooth and confident.
My fingers stiffened around my bouquet. “Tell us what?” I swallowed.
She didn’t even glance at me. Her gaze stayed locked on Sam.
“That you’re already married, Sam.”
The room inhaled all at once, gasps and murmurs rippling like waves in every direction. My breath caught in my throat. The flowers in my hands felt heavier, like I was sinking under their weight. My engagement ring burned against my skin.
I turned to Sam, waiting for him to laugh, to shake his head, to just do something—anything! Anything that would prove this was some kind of sick joke.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped forward.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Whispers erupted around us. My mother tensed beside me, her hand flying to her mouth. My bridesmaids shifted, wide-eyed, their bouquets lowered.
I could hear my own heartbeat, each beat deafening in the silence.
And then, right there, in the middle of our wedding, he walked toward her.
I think all the air left my lungs.
Sam’s movements weren’t hesitant. He wasn’t rushing to correct her, wasn’t denying it.
And then, God help me, he wrapped his arms around her.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
The world tilted. My hands trembled. I wanted to move, to say something, to scream, but I couldn’t.
Sam whispered something into her ear. Something only she could hear.
She let out a soft laugh.
It felt like the ground had cracked beneath me, and I was free-falling into nothing.
When he finally turned back to me, his face was filled with something I couldn’t quite place.
Regret? Pain? Betrayal?
“I…” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Hazel, I need to explain this.”
“You’re married?” My voice cracked.
“No.” His voice was careful, too careful. “Not exactly, Hazel.”
The woman, this stranger who had just shattered my wedding, laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Wow,” she murmured. “That’s one way to put it.”
I turned to her, my voice shaking. “Who are you?”
Her eyes flicked to mine for the first time, and something in them softened. “My name is Anna,” she said simply.
Anna.
The name rang in my ears, the pieces clicking together too slowly, too painfully.
Sam had mentioned her before. A childhood best friend. But never… not once had he mentioned a marriage.
I felt sick.
“Sam,” I said, forcing the words to come out. “Tell me the truth. Right now.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “When we were kids, we had a pretend wedding. Candy ring pops, scribbled vows, and Anna playing a ukulele. We were twelve.”
I blinked.
“But Anna is my best friend, that’s all,” he added quickly.
I wanted to believe him. But something didn’t add up.
“Then why did you hold her like that? Why did she just walk in here and say that?”
Sam sighed, glancing at Anna. “A few years ago, she was in a terrible car accident. The doctors said she might never walk again.”
A hush settled over the room.
“Anna spent years in rehab, fighting to get her life back. She told me she wouldn’t be able to come today.”
“I wanted to surprise him,” Anna admitted. “I’ve spent years relearning how to walk, and I wanted my best friend to see me walk in on his wedding day. I thought… why not add a little drama to it?”
Silence. Then, a single laugh.
It bubbled out of me, surprising even myself. Because this wasn’t betrayal. This wasn’t heartbreak. This was a miracle.
Anna grinned. “Am I forgiven yet?”
I exhaled, watching Sam dance with my mother. Then, I met his gaze. He smiled.
That soft smile. The one that had always felt like home.
I felt my chest tighten. “Yeah, I really am.”
“Then I’ll consider myself mostly forgiven.”
I rolled my eyes, but my lips curled into a smile.
“Come,” Sam said, holding out his hand. “Let’s dance.”
And as the music swelled and his arms wrapped around me, I knew.
This was right. This was ours.
