Seduced By Two Alpha Fires

3.

Chapter 3: The Weight of Choice

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. My own face looks foreign to me. The person staring back seems like a stranger. How did it come to this? How did I end up here, standing in a room that’s meant for a celebration, when all I feel is the pressure of a decision I can’t undo?

The sound of muffled voices outside the door makes me flinch, dragging me back to reality. I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to steady myself. There’s no going back now. No matter how much I wish there was.

A knock on the door breaks through my thoughts, sharp and urgent.

“Ronan?” It’s Clara’s voice, soft and careful, like she’s trying not to disturb the fragile calm that hangs in the air. “Everything okay in there?”

I don’t answer immediately. I stare at my reflection again, wishing I could see something in it that tells me I’m making the right choice. But I don’t. I only see a man who’s torn in two, caught between what he feels and what he knows he should do.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, my voice sounding hollow, even to my own ears.

Clara doesn’t push. She knows better. She knows how much I need this time alone. How much I need to come to terms with everything before I face the world outside these walls.

I turn away from the mirror and run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands. The tension in my body is unbearable. My stomach twists, and I feel like I’m going to choke on the weight of it all.

I promised Lyra that I loved her. I promised her that she was everything to me. And now here I am, about to marry someone else. It feels wrong. But Clara—Clara is what I need. She’s what’s right. Isn’t she?

I shake my head, but the thoughts won’t stop. Lyra’s face, her voice, the way she looked at me yesterday—pleading, broken—haunt me. Every word she spoke cuts deeper, like a wound that won’t heal.

I knew what this would do to her. I knew the pain it would cause. But I had to make this choice. Didn’t I?

Another knock on the door, and this time, Clara steps in without waiting for an answer. She’s dressed in a simple dress, her hair perfectly styled, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s trying, I can see that much, but it’s not the same. Not like it used to be.

“You okay?” she asks again, her voice soft but steady.

I force a smile, though it feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to me. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

She nods, but I can see the way she’s looking at me—like she’s not quite sure who I am anymore. Like she’s afraid that I’m slipping away from her, and she can’t stop it.

“I understand if you need more time,” Clara says, stepping closer. “But… we can’t keep them waiting forever.”

I want to tell her that I’m not ready. That I’m not sure about this. But I don’t. I can’t. Not when the wedding is so close. Not when we’ve already made so many promises to each other, promises I can’t back out of now.

“I know,” I reply, my voice tight. “I’ll be there.”

She doesn’t leave, though. She stays, her eyes searching mine for something—some sign, some reassurance that I’m still the person she thinks I am. But I can’t give her that. Not today.

“I know this is hard for you,” she says, her hand resting on my shoulder, a touch that feels too light, too hesitant. “But this is what’s best for all of us. You know that.”

I nod, though I don’t know if I believe it. I don’t know if I believe anything anymore.

“I know,” I say again, the words slipping out like they’re just another part of the lie I’m telling myself.

Clara leans in to kiss my cheek, but I pull away slightly, just enough to make the gesture feel awkward. Her lips press against my skin, but it doesn’t feel the way it used to. It doesn’t feel like the warmth I used to crave. It feels cold. Distant.

She doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she’s pretending not to. Either way, she smiles again, though it’s strained, and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

I stand there for a moment longer, staring at the door she just closed. Then I turn back to the mirror. The man staring back at me is still a stranger. But I know one thing for sure: I can’t undo what I’ve done.

I pull on my suit, the fabric rough against my skin. It feels heavy, like a weight I can’t shake. Every movement feels mechanical, like I’m going through the motions without really being present.

When I finally step out of the room, the sounds of the guests filtering in from the other side make my stomach twist. I can hear their laughter, their chatter, the clinking of glasses. Everyone is here for the same thing—my wedding. My life is supposed to start today. My new beginning.

But all I can think about is Lyra.

The ceremony starts soon. I stand at the front of the room, my hands clenched at my sides, trying to keep my mind focused. Trying to block out everything except the task at hand. I’m supposed to be here, supposed to be making this commitment. Clara is standing beside me, her eyes bright with anticipation, her smile so wide it almost looks forced. But I can’t bring myself to look at her the way I should.

Instead, my eyes keep drifting to the door. Every time it opens, my heart leaps into my throat, hoping for a glimpse of her.

But she’s not coming. I know that. I know she’s not going to walk through that door. She made it clear yesterday. And yet, I can’t help the hope that flickers in my chest each time the door creaks open.

I see Mason enter the room, and for a moment, my heart stops. He’s looking at me, his expression unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s angry, disappointed, or just… numb. But I know he doesn’t approve of what I’m doing. He never has.

Mason’s eyes linger on me for a moment before he looks away. I want to go to him, to explain myself, but the words won’t come. There are no words that will make any of this right.

The ceremony moves forward. The officiant says his piece, the vows are exchanged, and the rings are slipped onto our fingers. I’m moving on autopilot, going through the motions, but it feels like I’m watching someone else’s life unfold. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like mine.

And then, finally, it’s done. Clara is by my side, her hand in mine, and I hear the words I’ve been dreading: “You may kiss the bride.”

I lean in to kiss her, but the moment our lips meet, all I can see is Lyra’s face. Her broken expression, her tears, her heartbreak. It’s like a shadow that hangs over me, even in this moment of supposed joy.

I pull away quickly, my breath shallow. The room is spinning, and I feel lightheaded. I force myself to smile, but it feels hollow, empty.

Clara beams at me, but I can tell she’s still waiting for something from me—something she thinks is supposed to happen now that we’re married. But I don’t know what to give her. I don’t know how to be the man she expects me to be.

I hear the applause, the cheers, but all I feel is emptiness.

Later, when the guests are gone and the night has settled into quiet, I sit alone in the empty room. My suit feels too tight, the weight of it too much to bear. I thought I would feel relief, that maybe the pressure would lift once the ceremony was over. But instead, all I feel is the crushing weight of my decision.

The door creaks open, and Clara enters, her smile still intact but her eyes holding the same uncertainty I saw earlier. She sits beside me, her hand resting on my leg.

“We did it,” she says softly, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself more than me.

I don’t respond. I can’t.

She doesn’t seem to mind. She just leans her head on my shoulder, as though this moment is what we’ve been waiting for. And for her, maybe it is.

But for me, I know I’m still waiting for something else. Someone else.