The Wedding That Wasn’t Meant to Be
1022 Words
The sky was a perfect lie.
Soft blue, brushed with clouds that looked too peaceful for the kind of day it was.
Anika sat in front of the mirror as the stylist added the final touches to her hair. The white lace gown shimmered faintly in the morning light, a gown she had chosen months ago, when it still belonged to another dream.
When it still belonged to him.
Now, every bead and thread felt like a chain.
“Almost done, Miss Morell,” the stylist whispered. “You look… beautiful.”
Anika gave a hollow smile. “Thank you.”
As the woman left, Anika stared at her reflection, at the girl who looked like a bride but felt like a ghost. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, her lips pale. Somewhere deep inside, the grief still clawed its way through her ribs, trying to breathe.
A knock at the door.
“Come in,” she said quietly.
It was Colby.
He stood at the threshold, dressed in a tailored black suit that matched the one Liam had worn in the engagement photos. His tie was slightly crooked, his expression unreadable.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he said softly. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”
She turned away from the mirror. “Bad luck already found us.”
He stepped inside, closing the door. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay?” she echoed, her voice sharp. “I’m marrying my dead fiancé’s brother who is possibly his murderer too. There’s no version of okay in this.”
He looked down. “I know. But after today, maybe we can start…”
“Don’t,” she cut in. “This is a transaction. We both know that.”
He exhaled. “Maybe at first. But I meant what I said, I’ll find the truth about Liam. No matter what it costs.”
Her gaze softened slightly, but before she could respond, the wedding coordinator burst in with a too-bright smile.
“It’s time.”
The chapel was breathtaking, a masterpiece of glass and light. Rows of white roses lined the aisle, their scent heavy and intoxicating. Cameras flashed at the entrance; journalists whispered about “the wedding of the century.”
Anika walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, her veil draped low, her steps slow and mechanical.
Every face she passed looked too happy, too blind.
At the altar, Colby waited, hands clasped tightly, jaw clenched. The moment their eyes met, something inside her twisted. He didn’t look like a man in love. He looked like a man being sentenced.
The ceremony began.
The words blurred together, honor… unity… eternal bond…
When the priest finally said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Colby hesitated, his throat tightening.
He brushed a soft kiss on her cheek, respectful, distant. The room erupted in applause.
And just like that, it was done.
Anika O’Connell.
But the name tasted like someone else’s life.
At the reception, the ballroom glittered again that evening, laughter, champagne, the clink of crystal glasses.
Anika smiled when expected, danced when required. But her heart wasn’t there.
Colby stayed close, silent but protective, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd, a habit he couldn’t seem to shake since the night of the shooting.
At one point, Anika stepped away to breathe, escaping onto the terrace overlooking the gardens. The cool air bit her skin, and she finally let herself exhale.
She was married to the man she blamed for the only person she had ever loved.
Inside, the orchestra began to play their song, the one she and Liam had danced to at their engagement party. The sound twisted like a knife.
She turned to leave, and froze.
Police cars were pulling up in front of the estate. Lights flashing red and blue across the driveway.
Within moments, the murmurs inside turned to panic.
The guests parted as uniformed officers entered the ballroom, led by Detective Callahan, a stern man with a folder in hand.
“Colby O’Connell?” the detective called out.
Colby, who had just been greeting a group of shareholders, turned sharply. “Yes?”
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Liam O’Connell.”
The room fell silent.
Anika’s breath caught. “What…?”
Callahan approached, expression grave. “We’ve received forensic evidence confirming Mr. Colby O’Connell’s fingerprints on the weapon used in the shooting. A witness has also come forward.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Colby’s voice shook, but his eyes burned. “That’s impossible! My fingerprints were on it because I picked it up after…”
“Sir,” the detective interrupted, “you have the right to remain silent.”
Two officers stepped forward and took him by the arms. Colby didn’t resist. He looked once toward Anika, a single, desperate look as if pleading for her to believe him.
But she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
Her mind was frozen between the image of Liam’s body on the ground… and Colby’s hands, now cuffed behind his back.
“Anika,” he said softly as they began to lead him away. “I didn’t do it.”
She didn’t answer.
The last thing she saw was his face as the police escorted him through the golden doors, a mixture of heartbreak, fury, and something deeper… something that still looked like love.
Later that night the mansion was quiet again, except for the sound of rain.
Anika sat alone in her wedding dress, the hem soaked with tears and wine.
Her father’s voice echoed in her head: This is business. This is survival.
But at that moment, she didn’t care about mergers or money.
For the second time in her life, she had watched the man standing at the altar vanish before her eyes.
And somewhere in the shadows of the city, uncle Richard O’Connell poured himself another drink, smiling faintly at the breaking news flashing on TV.
Colby O’Connell Arrested for Brother’s Murder. New Wife Anika Stunned.
Everything was going exactly as he had planned.
- Writer
