Chapter 3 - The Voice Behind the Door
I tried to shake off the unsettling encounter and walked back toward the prep rooms to finish organizing the boutonnieres. But as I passed the executive suite designated for the groom’s party, I spotted Colleen slipping through the heavy oak door.
This time, I didn't hesitate. Curiosity and dread warred inside my chest, driving me forward like a moth to a flame. Of course her son was getting married—she had every right to be there. But her terrified reaction to seeing me, combined with the bizarre secrecy, made my skin crawl.
I crept quietly down the carpeted hallway until I reached the slightly ajar door of the groom's suite. I pressed myself flat against the wall, peering through the narrow gap.
Inside, Colleen was standing in front of a tall mirror, speaking to someone standing just out of my line of sight.
“You need to hurry up and finish buttoning that jacket,” Colleen’s voice echoed, uncomfortably urgent. “The ceremony starts in twenty minutes, and the photographer is already downstairs.”
A man’s voice answered.
I stopped breathing. The blood drained from my face, and every sound in the room vanished, replaced by a deafening roar in my ears.
That wasn't Julian’s voice.
It was deeper, smoother, and completely unmistakable. It was a voice I had listened to every single night for five years. A voice I had mourned, wept over, and begged the universe to bring back.
Adrian.
My whole body went ice cold, as if I had been plunged into a freezing ocean. I took a shaky step forward, pressing my eye directly against the crack in the doorway.
The man turned around to face the mirror, adjusting his cuffs.
It was him.
Adrian was alive.
He was standing there in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo—the exact same suit he had bought and fitted for our wedding three months ago. He looked healthy, vibrant, and completely untouched by tragedy.
“Does everything look okay?” Adrian asked, flashing that familiar, crooked smile at his mother.
Colleen stepped forward, gently adjusting his silk tie with shaking fingers. “You look perfect, sweetheart.”
Adrian smiled wider. “Good. I don't want anything going wrong today. Emily deserves a flawless wedding after everything we went through to pull this off.”
I staggered backward, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle the scream that clawed at my throat. My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself against the wall before I hit the floor.
Three months ago, I had stood at a closed-casket funeral, kissed a wooden box, and believed with all my heart that the man I loved was dead. I had worn black, mourned in solitude, and broken my own soul trying to survive the loss.
May you like
Now, he was alive, smiling, and getting married to another woman—with his mother’s full knowledge and participation. They had lied to me, used my grief, and let me suffer in absolute agony.
I turned and ran down the hallway, barely making it to the women's restroom before the overwhelming nausea took over. I locked myself inside a stall, slid down the door, and cried until I couldn't breathe, my chest heaving with a suffocating mix of heartbreak and pure, unadulterated rage.
