Chapter 3: I Don’t Want This Man Anymore
2364 Words
Chapter 3: I Don’t Want This Man Anymore
The room went quiet.
Not all at once.
First, Cecilia’s soft little protests died in her throat. Then Sophia’s laughter cut off. Then the faint clink of a teacup against porcelain stopped as Eleanor turned toward the entrance.
Aurora stood at the doorway.
For one suspended second, no one moved.
She had no idea how long she had been standing there, listening to them divide up her wedding like she was an absent guest who had no right to object.
The air in the room smelled of fresh flowers, expensive tea, and the faint sweetness of perfume. Sunlight poured through the tall windows and spilled across the ivory silk of the wedding dress.
Her wedding dress.
On Cecilia.
A maid near the entryway noticed Aurora first and startled so hard the tray in her hands rattled.
“Miss Bennett,” she blurted, her voice too loud in the sudden silence. “You scared me. I didn’t see you standing there.”
Every face turned.
Eleanor’s smile froze.
Sophia’s brows lifted, not with guilt, but with annoyance, as if Aurora’s arrival had interrupted a pleasant afternoon.
Cecilia stood in the center of the living room, both hands lightly clutching the sides of the gown. Her lips parted. Her eyes widened. In that dress, under everyone’s attention, she looked delicate, innocent, almost frightened.
Everett frowned.
Not guilty.
Not alarmed.
Frowned.
“You came,” he said.
Aurora almost smiled.
You came.
As if she were the uninvited one.
She stepped into the living room. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, each sound clean and sharp. Her hands trembled, so she curled them lightly at her sides. She would not let them see that.
Not Cecilia.
Not Sophia.
Not Eleanor.
Especially not Everett.
Aurora stopped a few feet away from the group and looked directly at Everett.
“So this is what you meant by adjustments?”
Everett’s expression tightened. “Aurora—”
“You took my wedding dress from the boutique,” she said, her voice colder than she expected, “and brought it here for Cecilia to wear.”
Cecilia flinched as if the words had struck her.
“Aurora, I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, panicked, perfect. “I didn’t know you would be so upset. I just thought it was beautiful. Everett only brought it here because I wanted to see it. I was very careful. I didn’t damage it.”
Aurora did not look at her.
She kept her eyes on Everett.
“You lied to me on the phone.”
Everett inhaled. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like.”
His jaw flexed.
Cecilia’s eyes filled immediately. “Aurora, please don’t blame Everett. It was my fault. I only wanted to try it on for a moment. I never meant to take anything from you.”
Sophia let out a short, irritated laugh.
“Why are you making this sound so serious? It’s just a dress.”
Aurora turned her head slowly.
Sophia stood with her arms crossed, chin lifted, her gaze sweeping over Aurora with open dislike.
“It’s not just a dress,” Aurora said.
“It is a dress,” Sophia shot back. “An expensive one, yes, but still a dress. Cecilia looks beautiful in it. Why are you acting like someone died?”
“Sophia,” Everett warned, though there was no real force in his tone.
Eleanor finally stepped forward.
“Aurora,” she said, in the patient tone she used whenever she believed Aurora was being difficult, “don’t make a scene. Cecilia only tried it on. She didn’t mean any harm.”
Aurora stared at her mother.
Her biological mother.
The woman who had given birth to her, lost her, found her ten years later, and still somehow always looked at Cecilia first.
“She’s wearing my wedding dress,” Aurora said.
“And she’ll take it off.” Eleanor’s brows drew together. “But you are her sister. Do you have to be so harsh over something like this?”
Something like this.
Aurora felt a laugh rise in her throat, but it came out empty.
“Something like this?”
Eleanor’s expression cooled. “You’re older. You should be more understanding.”
Cecilia lowered her head. “Mom, don’t say that. Aurora has every right to be angry. This is her dress. I shouldn’t have touched it.”
She said the right words.
She always did.
But she did not move to take the dress off.
She stood there in the center of the room, framed by ivory silk and everyone’s concern, playing the guilty little sister so beautifully that Eleanor immediately softened.
“Oh, Cecilia.” Eleanor reached for her hand. “Don’t blame yourself.”
Sophia made a disgusted sound.
“Exactly. Cecilia didn’t do anything wrong. If Aurora hadn’t been so sensitive, this wouldn’t even be a problem.”
Aurora looked back at Everett.
He had been silent too long.
“Is this your answer too?”
Everett’s gaze moved over her face. Something flickered in his eyes, perhaps discomfort, perhaps impatience. Then he glanced toward Cecilia.
Cecilia’s eyes were wet.
That was enough.
Everett stepped slightly in front of her.
“Aurora, stop this. Cecilia already apologized. I’ll have the designer make another dress for you. There’s still time before the wedding.”
The world narrowed.
For a moment, all Aurora heard was the faint rush of blood in her ears.
Another dress.
He said it so easily.
As if a wedding dress could be replaced and the insult would vanish.
As if she could walk down the aisle next month in a different gown, stand beside him, and pretend she had never seen him looking at Cecilia in hers.
As if her dignity could be altered, refitted, and delivered in time.
Aurora’s gaze moved from Everett’s face to Cecilia’s dress.
The beaded bodice caught the sunlight. The skirt spilled across the floor like a promise.
Her promise.
Their promise.
No.
Not anymore.
She looked away and saw Mrs. Lewis, Cecilia’s old nanny, standing near the side table. In the woman’s hand was a pair of sewing scissors, likely used to trim stray threads while everyone admired the stolen gown.
Mrs. Lewis took one nervous step back when she noticed Aurora’s gaze.
Aurora walked toward her.
“Miss Bennett?” Mrs. Lewis whispered.
Aurora held out her hand.
No one moved.
Mrs. Lewis swallowed and instinctively tightened her grip.
Aurora’s eyes did not waver.
“Give them to me.”
“Aurora,” Eleanor said sharply. “What are you doing?”
Mrs. Lewis hesitated one second too long.
Aurora took the scissors from her hand.
The room exploded.
“Aurora!” Everett snapped.
Cecilia gasped and stumbled back, clutching the skirt. “Sister, what are you doing?”
Aurora stepped forward, grabbed a handful of the ivory train, and closed the blades around it.
Snip.
The sound was small.
Almost delicate.
A strip of silk fell to the floor.
For a moment, everyone was too shocked to react.
Then Aurora cut again.
Snip.
Beads scattered across the polished floor like little pieces of ice.
Cecilia screamed.
“Aurora! Stop! Are you trying to hurt me?”
Aurora did not look at her face.
She kept her eyes on the fabric.
“I’m not touching you.”
Snip.
“I’m cutting what belongs to me.”
Another piece fell.
The gown that had once represented a wedding, a future, three years of patience, and the fragile lie that Everett Stone was her light, came apart between the blades.
Cecilia sobbed, twisting away but not fast enough to save the skirt.
Sophia shouted, “Are you insane?”
Eleanor rushed forward. “Aurora Bennett, stop this right now!”
Everett moved faster than all of them.
He crossed the room in two strides, pulled Cecilia behind him, and seized Aurora’s wrist.
His grip hurt.
“Enough!”
He wrenched the scissors from her hand.
Aurora lifted her eyes to his.
For the first time that day, Everett looked truly angry.
Not when he had been caught lying.
Not when Cecilia wore her dress.
Not when Eleanor asked her to give it away.
Only now.
Now that Cecilia had screamed.
Everett shoved Aurora back.
It happened quickly.
Her heel caught on the edge of the rug. Her body turned sideways. The sharp corner of the coffee table struck her forehead with a dull, sickening c***k.
Pain burst white behind her eyes.
Someone gasped.
Aurora caught herself with one hand on the table, but warmth slid down the side of her face before she could straighten.
Blood.
A thin red line ran from her forehead to her cheek.
For a breath, even Cecilia stopped crying.
Everett stared at her.
His eyes flickered to the blood.
For one terrible second, Aurora saw hesitation.
Then Cecilia made a broken sound behind him.
“Everett, I was so scared.”
The hesitation vanished.
Everett turned slightly toward Cecilia, shielding her again.
Then he looked back at Aurora, anger returning as if the blood on her face were an inconvenience he had not asked for.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “I told you I’d order another dress. You scared Cecilia half to death.”
Aurora stood very still.
The room blurred at the edges.
Her forehead throbbed. Blood slid warm against her skin. Her wrist ached where he had grabbed her. But none of it hurt as much as the clarity settling through her chest.
He had seen the blood.
And still, Cecilia was the one he protected.
Aurora lowered her eyes.
The ruined wedding dress lay around Cecilia’s feet in shredded ivory pieces.
It looked honest now.
That almost made Aurora laugh.
“Aurora,” Eleanor said, voice shaking with anger and disbelief, “look at what you’ve done.”
Aurora slowly pushed herself upright.
Her hair had come loose. Her cheek was wet with blood. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell.
Not now.
She looked at Cecilia.
Cecilia stood half-hidden behind Everett, the torn gown hanging from her body in ragged layers. Her face was pale, her eyes red, one hand clutching Everett’s sleeve.
Aurora smiled.
It was not a happy smile.
“You like wearing other people’s things so much,” she said, her voice quiet, “then keep it.”
Cecilia froze.
Aurora looked at Everett.
“And you.”
Everett’s face darkened. “Don’t start again.”
“I’m not starting anything.” Aurora’s fingers moved to her left hand.
The engagement ring sat there, bright and perfect.
She had once stared at it in secret when no one was watching. Not because the diamond was large, though it was. Not because it proved she had won something from Cecilia, though perhaps once she had been ashamed to admit that mattered.
She had stared because she had thought it meant Everett had chosen her.
Now she understood.
Everett had never chosen her.
He had accepted her.
There was a difference.
Aurora twisted the ring off.
Everett saw the movement and went still.
“Aurora.”
There it was.
The warning in his voice.
The assumption that she would stop if he sounded displeased enough.
He still believed she was angry.
He still believed this was a performance.
He still believed she would calm down, apologize, and return to her proper place.
Aurora looked him straight in the eye and dropped the ring onto the floor.
It struck the marble with a sharp sound.
Then it rolled once and came to rest near Cecilia’s torn skirt.
Cecilia stared at it.
Everett’s expression changed.
At last.
A c***k in the cold control.
“Aurora,” he said again, lower this time. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.”
Her voice did not shake.
“This wedding is over.”
Eleanor’s face went white. “Don’t say that in anger.”
“I’m not angry.” Aurora touched the blood on her cheek, looked at the red on her fingertips, and laughed once under her breath. “I think I’m finally calm.”
Sophia scoffed. “You’re being dramatic.”
Aurora did not even glance at her.
She looked at Cecilia.
“The dress is yours.”
Then at the ring on the floor.
“The ring is yours too.”
Finally, she looked at Everett Stone, the man she had once mistaken for light.
The man who had handed her dress to another woman.
The man who had pushed her hard enough to make her bleed, then blamed her for frightening the person wearing what should have been hers.
“And this man?”
Her lips curved.
“I don’t want him anymore.”
The room fell into absolute silence.
Everett looked as if she had slapped him.
For the first time since she had walked in, Cecilia forgot to cry.
Aurora turned before anyone could speak.
“Aurora!” Eleanor called.
She did not stop.
Everett said her name too, but not like a plea. Like a command.
She had obeyed that voice for three years.
Not today.
Aurora walked through the entryway, past the maid who stood frozen with both hands over her mouth, past the front hall where framed family portraits lined the walls.
Cecilia in a white dress at twelve.
Cecilia at a piano recital.
Cecilia between Richard and Eleanor, smiling like the center of the universe.
Aurora was in some of those photos too.
Near the edge.
A little too straight-backed.
A little too careful.
A daughter returned, but never restored.
She opened the front door.
The afternoon sun struck her face.
The cut on her forehead stung in the heat.
Behind her, the Bennett living room remained silent.
No one ran after her.
No one asked if she was hurt.
No one called for a doctor.
Aurora stepped out of the house with blood drying on her cheek and the weight of an engagement ring finally gone from her hand.
Behind her, not a single person followed.
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