11
1479 Words
The airport was louder than anything I had ever heard in my life.
It did not matter that we entered through a private gate or that security surrounded us on all sides. The moment the car stopped, the air exploded around us. Flashes burst like lightning through the glass windows. Microphones lifted like spears. People screamed our names so loudly it made my shoulders jump.
“Cassandra, look here.”
“Give us a smile.”
“How was the wedding night.”
“Are you wearing the ring today.”
“Any plans for pups soon.”
The sound hit me like a physical force. I froze in the seat, hands instinctively clutching the edge of the coat I wore. My pulse hammered. My lungs tightened. The world outside the window became nothing but faces, cameras, and noise. I felt my heartbeat in my ears, drowning out even the sound of my breathing.
Chase opened his door without hesitation. He stepped out first, tall and steady, like the chaos did not touch him at all. His shoulders squared, his posture straightened, and the crowd screamed louder. It was like throwing gasoline into fire. They surged forward, pushing against barricades, desperate for one more picture, one more word.
My fingers trembled around the handle of my door. I could hear the clicking of cameras even though I had not moved yet. Every voice blended into the next until the words tangled into a massive wave crashing over me.
Wedding night.
Pups.
Perfect couple.
Cassandra.
My breath caught painfully.
I was wearing Cassandra’s coat. Cassandra’s sunglasses. Cassandra’s mask. Cassandra’s identity. Behind all that, it was only me. A girl who had never stood in front of a crowd, who never wanted a spotlight, who could barely keep her hands from shaking at school presentations.
How was I supposed to walk into this.
The door opened beside me and I flinched. It was Chase. He leaned in slightly, blocking the view of cameras for a moment. His eyes locked on me, sharp but steady.
“Isla,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”
I forced my gaze upwards. My heart was slamming so hard it hurt. My throat felt tight. My fingers had gone numb.
“You need to breathe,” he said, voice low. “Slow and deep.”
I tried. My lungs refused to cooperate. The air went in too fast, came out too shaky. The flashes outside turned into white streaks like lightning on water. The noise blurred into a harsh ringing that filled my skull.
“I cannot,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips behind the mask.
Chase did not look annoyed. He did not sigh or lecture. He just leaned closer and spoke again, slower.
“Yes you can. One breath in. One breath out. Hold on to me.”
His hand found mine and squeezed. The sensation grounded me for one brief second, but then the door behind him opened wider and the sound of the crowd slammed into me all over again. The ringing grew sharper, turning everything into a distant echo.
It felt like the world was closing in on me. Like the air was shrinking. Like my mask was a hand covering my mouth. My vision blurred at the edges. My fingers shook so violently I almost dropped my bag.
I could not do this.
I could not walk into a storm pretending to be someone else.
I could not breathe.
“Chase,” I whispered, voice cracking.
He did not hesitate.
In one motion, he stepped forward, pulled me out of the car, and positioned himself fully in front of me. His body became a wall between me and everything else. Cameras flashed against his back, capturing nothing but his broad shoulders and the hard lines of his posture.
People screamed louder. Security pushed the crowd back. But none of it touched me.
Chase’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close against his side. My face was tucked under his chest, hidden from every angle that mattered. His coat brushed my cheek, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.
“Stay with me,” he said near my ear.
His voice was the only thing that existed.
The crowd became muffled. The echoes turned into a dull roar. The flashing lights became streaks that could not reach my eyes. Chase guided me forward, step by step, his stride confident, mine small and shaking.
Hands reached out from behind barriers. People shouted questions about pups. About love. About Cassandra’s ring. None of it meant anything to me. I felt like I was underwater, sound distorted, limbs heavy. My breaths were quick, uneven, almost painful.
“Keep your head down,” Chase murmured. “I have you.”
He guided me through the security corridor, his hold tightening when the crowd surged and security shouted warnings. His palm covered my back and it felt like the only point in the world where I was connected to reality.
When the private lounge doors closed, the roar of the crowd disappeared instantly. Silence hit like a slap. My knees gave out and I caught myself on the nearest chair, shaking uncontrollably.
My breaths came in short gasps. Tears had started to fall without me noticing. They soaked into the mask, warm and humiliating.
Chase crouched in front of me, both hands gently wrapping around my wrists.
“Breathe,” he repeated softly. “Slow. Count with me.”
I tried. My voice broke into a quiet sob. I hated that sound, hated the weakness in it, hated that I could not control my own body.
“One breath in,” he whispered.
I inhaled, though it shook violently.
“One breath out.”
I exhaled, a sob escaping with it.
“Again. In.”
His hands squeezed my wrists, grounding me.
“Out.”
Little by little, the ringing faded. The room returned. My heartbeat slowed from frantic pounding to harsh bumps in my chest. My shoulders unclenched.
Chase’s face blurred through tears. His brows were lowered, not in anger, but concentration. Concern. He held my wrists the way someone would hold something fragile, like he was scared the tremble might break me apart.
I blinked several times until his features sharpened. A soft ache pulsed behind my eyes from crying. My breathing was still rough, but it was steadying now, like he was lending me his rhythm.
Guilt rose like a wave.
I should not feel safe with him. I should not be relieved by his presence. He was my sister’s fiancé. He was the man she was meant to marry. The man I deceived, even if I had been forced. The man who would hate me when this ended.
I pulled my hands slowly from his grip and wiped my face.
“I am sorry,” I whispered through the mask.
Chase straightened but did not step away. “Stop apologizing,” he said calmly. “You are not used to this life. Cassandra was.”
The way he said her name made the guilt twist deeper.
I stared at the floor and nodded weakly. My heartbeat was still fast, but no longer painful. My fingers still shook, but I could move them now.
Chase stood, motioning to the attendant for privacy. The lounge remained quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning.
“You did well,” he said.
The words did not sound like a compliment. They sounded like something he was telling himself as much as me. Like he was trying to convince us both that this honeymoon would not collapse before it even began.
Jet security signaled the boarding.
Chase placed a hand on the small of my back, not pushing, just guiding. His touch was steady, not assuming anything, but offering silent support.
I hesitated before stepping forward, staring at the lounge door that led to the jet.
Chase lowered his voice.
“You will not be alone out there,” he said. “I promise.”
The door opened and bright sunlight flooded in.
We walked toward the jet. His stride was strong. Mine was small. But our shadows stretched together across the tarmac as if the world believed they belonged side by side.
Inside, the door closed behind us.
Silence.
Cool air.
Safety.
My breath trembled again and tears blurred my vision. I turned my face away, ashamed of how easily my emotions were spilling.
Chase reached out slowly, not to touch my face, not to comfort, but to wrap his hands around my wrists again, the same way he had earlier.
No words.
Just his grip.
Steady.
Firm.
Barely there.
Like a reminder.
I closed my eyes as another quiet sob slipped out.
His hold tightened.
We stayed like that until my breathing finally calmed.
- Writer
