Hidden Heir, Broken Heart

Brooke POV It is a beautiful day. I can feel the sun is bright even before I open my eyes. birdsong and the occasional car drifting up from the streets below. I stand in front of the full-length mirror, my back to the glass, and I can feel the weight of the dress around me. It is obviously expensive. I can tell by the way the embroidery pulls at my waist, the way the beads catch every slant of light. Beside me, my two best friends stand in their silk maroon dresses. The same design, just a different color. "Are you ready, Brooke?" one of them asks, her voice bright with excitement. I smile and give a nod. "I definitely am ready." I can barely contain myself. Today is the best day of my life. I am finally getting married to the love of my life. I turn to face the mirror and I am overwhelmed by what looks back at me. "Ohh... You have never looked more beautiful than you do right now, Brooke," one of my bridesmaids says. I smile honestly at my own reflection. "I do look good. Can't wait to walk down the aisle to the love of my life." Finally, my long-time dream is coming true. In a few minutes, I will be his wife. It is finally happening. "It's time," one of the girls says, after fixing my veil. Moments later, I am walking down the aisle as slow music plays. My bridesmaids are already at the altar. So is my groom. I can tell by his figure from behind. His wedding suit fits perfectly even at this distance. His black hair is brushed neatly. I smile at the sight. Then I notice something is off. I am walking to the altar alone. He does not spare me a glance. Neither do the guests. No one turns to look at me as I move toward him. What baffles me even more is the fact that I have been walking for a while now and still have not reached the altar. It seems as if I am still in the same position. I decided to quicken my pace. But it does no good. I am still in the same place. I raise my gown and begin to jog yet the altar seems to be moving farther away from me. "No!" I scream. I stretch out, reaching for my groom, for anyone who might pull me forward. I do not succeed. "Nathan... Nathan." I call his name. But he seems so distant. He cannot hear me. He does not turn to look at me. The slow music changes to something else. something that does not soothe at all. It sounds like a horror movie. The kind that plays just before the villain closes in. I jolt awake. The notification on my phone is what I heard. That sound. I sit up in bed, rubbing my temples. I shake my head. I am beginning to get tired of this dream. It has been recurring for a while now, always with the same pattern. It starts out beautiful and then collapses into disaster. I look down at my wedding ring. Three years ago, I finally married the man I had always wanted. The wedding was perfect. And still, the nightmares keep coming. I pick up my phone to check the notification. It is a picture of my so-called husband. He is sitting in an apartment that is definitely not our home. His attention is elsewhere in the photo, but I can clearly make out a girl's hand at the edge of the frame. She may have accidentally put her finger there while taking the picture — or she did it on purpose. Below the photo, the caption reads: He chooses to spend time with his mistress rather than to be with you. Just give up already. Then a smiley face. I sigh and rub my face. I close the message and get out of bed, walking to the bathroom. My mind will not quiet down. This is not the first message like this. I have been receiving them for a while now from unknown numbers. Sometimes with pictures attached, other times just text. Telling me exactly where my husband is at any given moment. I am devastated. I decided to call Nathan. No answer. I called again. It rings and nearly goes to voicemail before he picks up. "What?" His voice is strained. "Where are you and when are you coming home-" "That is none of your business. I will come to my house whenever I wish to. Don't ever call me asking such things, you selfish spoiled brat." He spits the words and ends the call. I squeeze my eyes shut. His words sting somewhere deep, in a place I have learned to guard and failed to protect. I have kept all of this to myself and my two closest friends throughout the three years of my marriage. It is six o'clock in the evening. To clear my head, I call them and ask if they want to go out tonight. They agree to meet at eight. It helps less than I hoped it would. Their advice amounts to the same thing. "Leave him." They tell me there is no point staying with someone who does not love or respect me. But it is something I find impossible to do. I love Nathan too much to even think about walking away. I walk back into my bedroom at midnight. I am a little tipsy from the drinks, but not so far gone that the world feels blurry. I know exactly where I am. I get ready for bed and lie down. I am about to reach for the side lamp when I notice papers on the bedside table. I did not put them there. I reach for them, my brow furrowing. I read through the contents, and my eyes go wide as realization settles over me like cold water. My eyes fill with tears before I can stop them. It is real. Nathan's full name is written there. So is my name. He has served me with divorce papers.