The Runaway Bride

Chapter 2

Maren

"I can't marry him."

The words came out broken and small.

Claire went silent.

I lifted my face to hers, tears already slipping down my cheeks.

"I can't marry him, Claire. I can't go in there and promise to spend the rest of my life with a man I don't love. I can't stand in front of all those people and pretend I'm happy when I feel like I'm disappearing."

"Oh, Maren."

"I've tried." My voice cracked. "I've tried so hard to convince myself that I could do it. I've told myself that love isn't everything, that Graham is a good match, that my parents know what they're doing. I've repeated it so many times that I almost started believing it."

I laughed, but it sounded awful.

"And now I'm wearing a wedding dress, and I'm about to marry a man who has already planned the rest of my life without asking me what I want."

Claire reached for both my hands.

"What do you want?"

I stared at her.

It was such a simple question.

Nobody had asked me that in months.

Not my mother, who had cried with happiness when Graham proposed. Not my father, who had shaken Graham's hand and congratulated him on joining our family. Not Graham himself, who had assumed my silence meant agreement.

What did I want?

I wanted to wake up in the morning without dreading the day ahead. I wanted to make decisions without imagining my father's disappointment. I wanted to fall in love because I couldn't help myself, not because two families had decided we were suitable.

I wanted to know who I was when I wasn't somebody's daughter, somebody's fiancée, somebody's future wife.

I wanted a choice.

"I want to leave," I whispered.

Claire's fingers tightened around mine.

For a moment, she looked as frightened as I felt. Then she glanced at the road, at the waiting car, at my dress.

And finally, she looked back at me.

"Then leave."

I blinked. "What?"

"If you don't want to marry him, don't marry him."

"It's not that simple."

"No, it isn't." She swallowed. "Your parents will be furious. Graham will be humiliated. There will be phone calls, questions, and probably enough gossip to keep those society magazines busy for months."

A tear slid down my cheek.

"But you know what, Maren?" Claire continued. "You can survive all of that. What I don't want is for you to spend the next thirty years wishing you'd had the courage to walk away today."

I stared at her, my heart pounding.

The church was less than twenty minutes away.

My father would be waiting.

Graham would be waiting.

Everyone would be waiting.

And for the first time in my life, I understood that I could let them wait.

I looked down at my dress.

Then I looked at the road stretching ahead of us.

"Where would I even go?"

Claire let out a shaky breath. "Somewhere they won't find you immediately. Somewhere you can think. We can figure out the rest later."

I looked at her.

"What about you?"

Claire's expression changed.

"I'll go to the wedding venue."

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"Someone has to tell them you're not coming."

"Claire, I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking me. I'm choosing to do it." She gave my hands another squeeze. "I'll tell them the truth as best I can. You need to get somewhere safe before your family starts looking for you."

"But they'll blame you."

"Let them." She shook her head. "I'm not the one getting married today."

A small, broken laugh escaped me.

For the first time that morning, I managed a proper breath.

And just like that, the decision became something more than a desperate thought.

It became a possibility.

I looked at the driver, who was standing beside the car with an expression that suggested he was desperately trying not to hear anything.

"Please take us back," I told him.

He hesitated. "Back to the estate, Miss?"

I glanced at Claire.

She shook her head.

"No," I said, wiping my cheeks. "Not the estate."

My voice was still shaking, but the words came more easily this time.

"Take us somewhere we can get off the main road. Somewhere quiet. We'll arrange another car from there."

The driver looked uncertain.

I straightened as much as the dress allowed.

"Please."

After another moment, he nodded and returned to his seat.

Claire helped me back into the car, gathering the train of my dress so it wouldn't catch in the door. Then she climbed in beside me and shut the door.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

I looked down at my hands.

My palms were still damp. My heart was still racing. I was still terrified.

But beneath the fear, something else had begun to stir.

Hope, perhaps.

Or the first fragile breath of freedom.

The car pulled away from the pavement.

And somewhere behind us, a church full of flowers and two hundred expectant guests waited for a bride who was never going to arrive.

I didn't know where I would sleep that night. I didn't know how long it would take for my family to find me, or what Graham would do when he realized I had disappeared.

I didn't know how to build a life from nothing.

But I knew one thing.

I would rather face an uncertain future than spend the rest of my life trapped in a future someone else had chosen for me.

I wiped my cheeks with the heels of my palms and took a shaky breath.

It was for the better.

I repeated the words silently, hoping that if I told myself enough times, I would eventually stop feeling guilty about what I'd done. I hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. I hadn't planned to humiliate my family or leave Graham standing at the altar in front of hundreds of guests.

But I couldn't marry a man I didn't love just to keep everyone else happy.

I had made my choice, and there was no point crying over it now.

With a sigh, I pushed myself off the bed and reached for my handbag. My phone was still switched off, and I had deliberately left it that way since leaving the city. I knew what would be waiting for me the moment I turned it on, but I couldn't hide from the world forever.

At least, not if I wanted to know how much damage I'd caused.

I pressed the power button.

The screen lit up, and within seconds, notifications began appearing one after another. I watched silently as the numbers climbed, my stomach tightening with every new alert.

Thirty missed calls.

I stared at the screen.

Seven from Graham.

Five from Dad.

Fifteen from Mom.

And three from Claire.

I swallowed hard.

Thirty calls, and I hadn't even been gone for an entire day.

I wondered what Graham had told everyone. Had he admitted that I'd left him, or was he still pretending there had been some misunderstanding? Had my father already begun making calls to protect the family's reputation? And my mother...

I could almost hear her voice. The disappointment, the anger, the endless questions about how I could have done something so selfish after everything they'd done for me.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

Claire's name caught my attention. A small part of me wanted to call her immediately, to find out what had happened at the venue and whether she was all right. She had taken on the responsibility of facing everyone I'd left behind, and I felt terrible for putting her in that position.

But what would I say?

I'm sorry I left you to deal with everything?

Did Graham lose his mind?

Did my father blame you?

I wanted to know the answers, but I wasn't sure I was ready to hear them.

Then there was Graham.

Seven missed calls.

I wondered whether he was angry or worried, although I doubted worry would be his first concern. Graham hated losing control of a situation, and I had given him the biggest shock of his life by disappearing on our wedding day.

I could imagine him pacing around a room, his jaw clenched, demanding answers from anyone unfortunate enough to be standing nearby.

The thought made my chest tighten again.

Was I ready to speak to any of them now?

No.

I wasn't.

Not Graham. Not my parents. Not even Claire, as much as I wanted to hear her voice.

I needed time to think, to breathe, and to understand what I'd just done without someone else's reaction making me question it.

I switched off the screen and tossed the phone onto the bed beside me.

For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at it.

Then I climbed back onto the mattress and stretched out, not bothering to remove my clothes. The bed creaked beneath me, but I was too tired to care about its condition.

My entire body ached. My head felt heavy, and the events of the day had left me emotionally drained.

I pulled the thin blanket over myself and turned onto my side.

Tomorrow, I would figure out what to do next. I would find a job, explore the town, and work out how to make my money last. I would think about my family, Graham, and everything waiting for me back home.

But not today.

Today, I had done enough.

I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would quiet the endless questions running through my mind.

For now, I didn't want to be a Whitmore daughter, Graham's runaway bride, or the woman whose wedding had become a disaster.

I just wanted to rest.

And for the first time in my life, nobody was there to tell me what I should do.

So I let myself drift off, leaving my switched-off phone lying beside me and the rest of my old life waiting on the other side of the silence.