2
833 Words
Amelia’s POV
The wedding was over before it even started.
I didn’t walk down the aisle. I didn’t wear the beautiful white dress hanging in my hotel room. I didn’t become Mrs. Charles Uba.
Instead, I sat on the cold floor of my room for what felt like hours, crying until my eyes were swollen and my chest hurt. When I finally stood up, the first thing I did was open the family group chat and type with shaking fingers:
“I caught Charles and Lisa in bed together. The wedding is cancelled.”
I pressed send, then quickly switched off my phone. I didn’t want to see the replies. I didn’t want the calls. I didn’t want anyone’s pity or those looks that said “I told you so.” Because deep down, I knew they had been right all along. I should have listened.
My heart felt heavy, like someone had dropped a stone inside my chest. I didn’t want to stay in this hotel room and drown in my own sadness. I couldn’t face my family yet. Not tonight.
I opened my box and brought out the red sexy dress my sister Macy had bought for the wedding after-party. It was short, tight, and made to turn heads. I had laughed when she gave it to me, telling her I would never wear something so bold. Tonight, I didn’t care.
I went to the bathroom, washed my face with cold water to reduce the swelling around my eyes, and put on the dress. It hugged my body in all the right places. I applied a little makeup—just enough to hide the redness and make me look alive. When I looked in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. She looked angry. She looked hurt. But she also looked ready to forget, even if it was just for one night.
Before anyone could come looking for me, I slipped out of the hotel through the side door and took a cab straight to the club downtown. The music was loud even from outside. Good. I needed noise to drown out the voices in my head.
Inside, the place was packed with bodies moving under flashing lights. I found a spot at the bar and ordered a strong drink. The first one went down fast. The second one made my head feel lighter. But after the third, the sadness started creeping back in. I felt sorry for myself—pathetic, used, and stupid for trusting Charles and Lisa.
I didn’t want to sit there thinking anymore. So I left the bar and headed to the dance floor.
The beat was strong, vibrating through my chest. I closed my eyes and let my body move with the music. At first it felt awkward, like I was forcing it. But slowly, the rhythm took over. I danced like I was trying to shake off the pain, like if I moved fast enough, the betrayal wouldn’t be able to catch me.
Then I felt it—goosebumps running up my arms and down my back. The feeling that someone was staring at me. Not just looking. Staring intensely.
I turned around slowly, still moving to the music, and my eyes went straight up to the VIP section. It was darker up there, but I could see two men standing by the railing, looking down at me. Their faces were partly hidden in shadow, but from their silhouettes, I could tell they were tall, broad-shouldered, and definitely hot.
Something about the way they watched me made my skin tingle. It wasn’t creepy. It was… powerful. Like they were pulling me in without saying a word. My heart started beating faster, not from fear, but from a strange kind of excitement. For the first time tonight, I didn’t feel broken. I felt seen. Desired.
I stared right back at them and let my body move bolder. I swayed my hips, ran my hands lightly over my sides, and danced like the whole club had disappeared. In that moment, it was just them and me. The music, the lights, the pain—everything else faded away.
I felt hot. Confident. Alive.
But the moment didn’t last.
Someone came up behind me on the dance floor and started dancing too close. His hands grabbed my waist without asking. I tried to step away, but he followed, pressing against me.
“Excuse me,” I said loudly over the music, “I’m not interested.”
He didn’t budge. Instead, he laughed and pulled me closer, like he thought I was playing hard to get. His breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. My stomach turned.
I pushed at his chest and raised my voice. “I said I’m not—”
Before I could finish, a deep, commanding voice cut through the noise like a knife.
“If you don’t get your hands off her this minute, I promise you will lose them.”
- Writer
