ELARA
WEDDING DAY
Standing before the mirror, I studied my reflection in silence. My hands smoothed down the bodice of the white dress, the fabric too perfect, too pristine, like a lie I couldn’t unwear. What would it feel like, I wondered, to stand in front of everyone and say those vows—knowing every word was a fabrication? A mockery wrapped in flowers and lace.
This wasn’t how I wanted it. If it were up to me, we’d sign the contract quietly, no ceremony, no spectacle. It would have been cleaner, simpler. But Dave had to make it convincing. He wanted to sell the illusion—to make everyone believe in a love that didn’t exist.
A sharp, familiar voice cut through my thought.
“I just want to talk to her!” Cedric yelled beyond the doors.
Through the heavy wood, I could hear the scuffle
