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1078 Words
Harper’s POV
The car rolled to a stop in front of St. Helena’s Cathedral, its ancient stone walls rising like a silent judge waiting to deliver my sentence. Snow fell in soft sheets, dusting the steps and clinging to the red carpet that stretched all the way to the grand doors. Dozens of cameras flashed from behind barricades. Reporters craned their necks. Guests chatted excitedly as they hurried inside. None of them had any idea that the bride they came to see was not the bride stepping out of the car.
The driver opened my door. My fingers were stiff as ice as I gathered the heavy skirt and stepped carefully onto the ground. My heart beat so loudly it drowned out everything else. The velvet ropes, the swirling snow, the murmurs of the crowd… it all faded behind the sound of my own terror.
The wedding planner rushed over immediately. “Esther, thank goodness. We were worried. You are two minutes behind schedule.”
I forced a tight smile and nodded. She did not look closely enough to see the truth. None of them would. Esther and I were mirror images. Identical twins. As long as I kept my head lowered and my voice soft, no one would ever know.
She ushered me inside, her heels clicking anxiously against the marble floor. The cathedral smelled of candle wax and pine garlands. Massive white roses lined the aisle. Music swelled from the organ above, filling every corner with a solemn hymn that made my knees shake.
Guests turned their heads as I entered, every face glowing with anticipation. No suspicion. No confusion. Only admiration and delight.
My mother would be pleased. They had gotten exactly what they wanted. A perfect wedding. A perfect illusion.
The planner adjusted my veil one last time and whispered, “When the doors open, walk slowly and hold the bouquet higher. Damon is already waiting.”
At the sound of his name, my stomach tightened painfully.
Damon Hale.
Esther’s fiancé. The man who had vanished from public life after his accident. The man who was rumored to hide behind masks and shadows. The man I was about to marry under false pretenses.
The organ shifted to the wedding march. The planner hurried away. Two ushers pulled open the massive wooden doors.
Every guest rose at the same time.
I froze.
The aisle stretched endlessly in front of me, a long glowing river of light. Petals fluttered down from the balcony like falling snow. And at the very end, near the altar, stood a tall, dark figure.
The groom.
Damon Hale.
He wore a formal black suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His posture was rigid, almost statuesque, as if he were carved from stone. But it was his face that stole my breath.
Or rather, the part of his face he allowed the world to see.
He was wearing a mask.
Not a masquerade-style mask. Not something decorative or elegant. It was a sleek, perfectly fitted black mask that covered most of the left side of his face and a portion of his jaw. Only his right cheek, his mouth, and his eyes were visible.
I had prepared myself for scars. For burns. For something frightening. Something horrifying. Something monstrous.
But nothing could have prepared me for this.
His eyes.
They were the most enchanting eyes I had ever seen. Deep, cold, and impossibly intense. A shade of dark green that looked almost unreal beneath the cathedral lights. When they locked onto mine, my steps faltered and my heart tripped in my chest.
There was no hatred. No irritation. No suspicion.
Only something piercing. Something that sank into me like a hook tugging me closer.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to walk. My legs trembled under the heavy gown. The veil brushed my face. Every step felt like I was inching toward a cliff, one I had been pushed off without warning.
But no one suspected a thing.
If anything, the guests sighed in admiration. Some dabbed their eyes with tissues. Others whispered about how beautiful Esther looked. No one knew that Esther was probably long gone by now and that Harper, the unwanted twin, was walking in her place.
When I reached the altar, my breath caught as Damon finally moved. He extended his hand toward me, palm up, steady and expectant.
For one moment, I hesitated.
Then I placed my hand in his.
His grip closed around mine, warm and firm. A strange warmth shot up my arm, startling me. He leaned forward slightly, bringing us closer. The mask obscured half his face, but his lips were visible. They were full, well shaped, and slightly parted as if he had been holding back a breath.
He did not smile.
He did not greet me.
He simply watched me. Studied me. As if he were trying to understand something he could not see.
The priest cleared his throat and began the ceremony. His voice echoed through the cathedral’s high arches, but I barely heard the words. I was too aware of Damon standing beside me. His subtle scent of cedar. The tension in his shoulders. The way his thumb brushed against mine only once, so lightly I almost thought I imagined it.
When the priest turned to Damon for the vows, Damon did not look away from me. Not even for a second.
“Do you, Damon Hale, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
For a moment, the world stopped.
Damon inhaled slowly. Deeply. His green eyes darkened.
“I do.”
The way he said it made something inside my chest stir in fear.
Then it was my turn.
“And do you, Esther…” The priest paused slightly before correcting himself and saying, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My voice trembled as I whispered, “I do.”
A murmur rippled through the church.
Damon’s eyes softened for the briefest second.
The priest nodded, smiling proudly, as he closed the final part of the ceremony. My heart hammered harder. My breaths came faster. I could feel the weight of the mask Damon wore. I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel the moment building.
The priest lifted his hands and spoke the words that sealed my fate.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”
- Writer
