Beneath the Mistletoe

Chapter4

~Tiara

The letter from my late best friend, Sarah, felt like a heavy weight in my hands. My heart ached as I stared at the envelope, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Tiara, what's wrong?" My mother's voice broke through the silence, making me jump.

I tried to compose myself, wiping the tears from my eyes. "I was just thinking about Sarah," I whispered, holding up the letter. "She gave this to me before she..." I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence.

My mother took a step closer, her eyes filling with sympathy. "I know how much Sarah meant to you," she said gently. "She would've wanted to be here today, to share this special day with you. But she's still with you, in spirit. And she would want you to be happy."

I couldn't help but let out a sob, the emotion too much to bear. "I just miss her so much," I said, my voice breaking. "She was supposed to be my maid of honor. Now she's gone, and I'm getting married to a man I barely know."

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetheart," my mother murmured, pulling me into a tight hug. "Today is the first day of a new year, a new chapter in your life. In a few hours, you'll be Mrs. Hernandez. Sarah would want you to be happy, to embrace this new beginning."

I let out a shuddering breath, leaning into my mother's embrace. "I know," I whispered, wiping my tears.

My mother gently pulled away, her eyes filled with concern. "Your father is waiting in the car downstairs to walk you down the aisle," she said. "It's time for us to go."

I nodded, forcing a small smile as I followed her out of the room. But just as we reached the door, I remembered the letter and recorder, still on the table where I'd left them.

My hand shook as I picked up the letter from the table. It felt warm in my hands, as if it still held some of Sarah's essence. With trembling fingers, I tried to pry open the envelope, but it was as if my hands refused to cooperate.

"Tiara," my mother called, her voice echoing from the hallway. "We have to go."

I slid the envelope into my purse and turned to face my mother. "Okay, Mom," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm coming."

She gave me a small, knowing smile as we made our way to the waiting car.

We arrived at the church, the snow falling softly around us like a magical winter wonderland. The Christmas decorations, still in place from the holidays, added a festive air to the occasion, as if the world itself was celebrating my union with the man I was about to marry.

My father took my hand, his eyes filled with pride and love. "Are you ready, sweetheart?" he asked, a soft smile on his lips.

I nodded, forcing myself to breathe deeply. "Yes, Dad. I'm ready."

The sweet strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D filled the air as my father escorted me down the aisle. I took in the faces of the guests, the soft twinkling of the lights, and the decorations that adorned the church.

And then, as we reached the altar, I caught a glimpse of the man I was about to marry. My breath caught in my throat, for there, standing before me, was the same man I'd kissed under the Mistletoe.

His hair was a different color, his style more refined, but his smile, that smile was the same.

I couldn't help but smile. Fate had indeed brought us together again, and in that moment, I felt a rush of joy and peace wash over me.

I reached the altar, my father handing me off to my soon-to-be husband. As Giovanni lifted my veil, his eyes met mine, and for a moment, we were transported back to that night under the Mistletoe.

But then, as he took a step back, I noticed something. His eyes were different now, I could remember they were ocean blue, the night we kissed, but now they were emerald green. His smile vanished, replaced by a look of shock and confusion. It was as if he, too, had just realized who I was.

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest intoned, his voice rich and solemn.

"I do," Giovanni replied, his voice steady and strong, even as his gaze flicked between me and the priest, as if he were trying to make sense of this unexpected turn of events.

"And do you, Tiara, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," I said, my voice trembling slightly. There was something in Giovanni's expression that had me questioning the truth of his words.

I stood there, still smiling, as Giovanni slipped the ring onto my finger. My heart was pounding, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. And then, the moment I'd been waiting for: "You may now kiss your bride."

I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the tender touch of his lips on mine. But instead of a kiss, I felt a light peck on my cheek.

My eyes snapped open, confusion written on my face. Was he not happy about the turn of events? Could he have preferred to marry a stranger?

As we made our way down the aisle, arm in arm, I stole a quick glance at Giovanni. His expression was guarded, his gaze distant, as if he were lost in his own thoughts.

As we exited the church, the guests showering us with confetti and cheers, I caught a glimpse of my parents. My mother's face was radiant, beaming with pride and joy.

"Congratulations, my darling daughter," my mother gushed, wrapping me in a warm embrace. "You look absolutely stunning! I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile. "It's all so surreal. I can't believe I'm married."

I sat next to Giovanni in the backseat of our Tesla, trying to appear as relaxed and happy as possible. As we pulled away from the church, I waved to the guests, beaming with what I hoped was a convincing smile.

But as I glanced at Giovanni, his silence unnerved me. I tried to break the ice, turning to him with a playful smile.

"Fate really wanted us together, didn't it? Must have been that Mistletoe," I said, hoping to make him laugh.

But Giovanni remained silent, his expression unreadable as he stared out the window.

"And remember that time we went to Los Angeles?" I continued, my voice filling the silence. "That night you walked me to my room, we decided to go to the Hollywood sign and take all those goofy pictures. That was so much fun!"

Giovanni shifted in his seat, his silence becoming more and more uncomfortable.

"And then we went to that cute little café in Silver Lake. We were there for a few minutes just talking and laughing. It was perfect."

That's when Giovanni snapped. "Enough, Tiara! Shut up!" he yelled, his voice rising to a shout.

I gasped, my eyes widening in shock.

Giovanni turned to face me, his expression dark and brooding. "It wasn't me you met in Los Angeles," he said, his voice low and intense. "It was my twin brother, Antonio."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Your...your twin…brother?" I stammered. "But...I don't understand. How?"

—-----

As night fell for our honeymoon, Giovanni entered the bedroom, pillows and blankets in hand. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight, Tiara," he said, his voice void of emotion.

"Wait!" I called after him, a tear rolling down my cheek. "Giovanni, please, I need to know more about what's happening..."

But he was already out the door, leaving me alone in the dark, silent bedroom.

I collapsed on the bed, sobs wracking my body as I reached for my purse. I needed to call my mother, to tell her what had happened.

With trembling hands, I fumbled for my purse, my mind already formulating the words I would use to explain the disaster that had become my wedding night. But as I reached for my phone, Sarah's letter slipped from the envelope in my purse, tumbling to the floor.

Immediately, my eyes caught a name in the letter, I froze, "Giovanni Hernandez," it read. My husband'

s name.

I let out a shaky breath, my mind racing. Why would Sarah mention Giovanni in her letter?