Betrayed at the Altar

Chapter 2: A Vow in Ashes

Chapter 2: A Vow in Ashes

“Are you okay? You’re pale,” Jennie asked, gripping Rachel’s hand as the bridal march began to play.

Rachel smiled weakly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just wedding jitters.”

Jennie rolled her eyes with a grin. “Don’t be nervous! You’re finally marrying the man of your dreams. Now maybe I’ll get a break from hearing about how sexy and perfect Bruce is.”

Rachel let out a brittle laugh. “Yes… finally.”

But inside, her chest twisted. The moment replayed again and again in her head—Amanda’s laughter. Bruce’s voice. The word ‘prank.’

Still, she hoped. Prayed.

Maybe he’ll stop this madness. Maybe he’ll come to his senses. Maybe he’ll pick me.

The chapel doors opened.

Gasps rippled softly through the pews. Rachel floated down the aisle, every eye on her, every step heavier than the last. Her gown shimmered like a dream, but she felt like a ghost trapped in a nightmare.

At the altar, Bruce stood tall, sculpted in an expensive suit. His jaw was clenched. His eyes… unreadable.

Amanda stood just to the side—devil in disguise. Her lips curled into a knowing smile. As Rachel drew closer, Amanda gave her a small, mocking wave. Rachel’s stomach sank.

Bruce took Rachel’s hand. His fingers were cold.

For one fleeting second, his eyes met hers. A flicker of something passed through him. Guilt? Fear? Love?

Rachel didn’t know. She clung to the shred of hope.

The officiant cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”

Rachel barely heard the words. The world had narrowed down to Bruce’s face. Amanda’s smirk. Her pounding heart.

Finally, the moment came.

“Rachel, do you take Bruce Colton as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Her voice trembled.

“And Bruce, do you take Rachel Alvarez as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Silence.

A pause too long.

Every breath in the room froze.

Rachel stared at him. “Bruce?” she whispered.

Bruce swallowed hard. His lips parted.

“I’m sorry, Rachel…” he said, voice low but cutting like ice. “I can’t marry you.”

Murmurs exploded across the pews. Rachel’s blood ran cold.

“I don’t love you,” he continued. “I love Amanda.”

Gasps. A few stifled laughs. Somewhere, someone whispered, “Oh my God.”

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. “What…?”

Amanda stepped forward with theatrical grace, slipping her hand into Bruce’s like a queen claiming her throne.

She turned to the crowd, eyes glittering. “Let’s not pretend any of you are surprised.”

Laughter—nervous, cruel—rippled through the audience.

Amanda looked directly at Rachel. “You really thought you’d win, didn’t you? With your cheap dress and dollar-store fairy tale?” She tilted her head. “You aimed too high, Rachel. You don’t belong in our world.”

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “You planned this…”

Amanda's smile widened. “Oh honey, everyone knew.”

Rachel’s eyes swept the crowd—faces she’d thought were friends, Bruce’s smug cousins, even a few of their highschool classmates whispering behind their hands.

“You all knew?” Her voice broke.

“You were just a placeholder,” Amanda said sweetly. “Bruce was always mine. He just needed time to remember.”

Bruce didn’t speak. His hand remained in Amanda’s.

Rachel’s knees buckled. Jennie caught her, eyes blazing with fury.

“I swear to God, I’ll kill them,” Jennie hissed under her breath.

Amanda stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough for Rachel to hear. “This wasn’t just about Bruce. This was about you. The girl from nowhere who dared to think she belonged here.”

Rachel stared at her. “I never did anything to you.”

Amanda’s eyes flashed. “Exactly. And you still outshined me.”

Rachel opened her mouth—but no words came. Just silence. A howling, raw silence that screamed louder than anything she could say.

Bruce looked away.

And that was the final blow.

Rachel lifted her chin, lips trembling. “I hope the two of you are very happy.”

Amanda snorted. “Oh, we will be. At least I didn’t have to beg for love.”

Tears threatened to spill, but Rachel held them back. She turned, veil dragging behind her like a funeral shroud.

Each step down that aisle felt like walking through fire.

The girl who walked in as a bride had died somewhere between the altar and the door.

She didn’t look back.

Not even once.