The moment the car door opened, a wall of light hit me.
Cameras flashed in rapid bursts, a staccato rhythm that made the night glitter unnaturally bright. Reporters shouted questions, their voices tangled together into a roar. Nate stepped out first, tall, composed, his jaw set like marble. He turned, offering me his hand.
I hesitated. Just a second. But the pause was enough for another round of flashes to explode, for the whispers to ripple through the crowd— is she nervous? is the bride hiding something?
I slid my hand into his. His grip was strong, steady, the kind that didn’t allow room for retreat. He guided me out, the cameras exploding again as I stood beside him in the floodlights.
Smile.
The word echoed in my head like an order. I forced my lips into shape. But it felt wrong,
