The terms of us

Vivienne The champagne bottle in front of me is empty. I don't remember drinking all of it. My head feels heavy, and it's pounding. My vision blurs at the edges. Somewhere behind me, two hundred guests are still laughing and still pretending they didn't just watch my sister marry my fiancé in my dress in my place. I press my palm flat against the table and push myself upright. I stagger, but I needed to get out of here. I walk past the hallways that are gleaming under the lights, ignoring the security guards as I walk past. I don't stop, because I know that if I do, I'll remember, and then I'll break down. ONE HOUR AGO With a smile on my face, I pick up my camera to record pre wedding memories for later, so I can have a good laugh and be happy. The door was left open wide….I think I remember that. I was strange because the coordinator had been so particular about everything. “No one goes in before the bride. It's bad luck.” Bad luck. I pushed the door open and found Derek on top of my sister. His hips thrusting in and out of her, as he was buried inside her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. His mouth on her throat, sucking marks into skin that would be visible above the neckline of the dress that was supposed to be mine. My dress. The one I spent two months choosing. The one that was tailored to my body. The one that Mara was wearing when I walked into that room. I froze. I should have screamed. I think I tried to, but nothing came out. Just this awful, strangled sound that didn't sound human. Derek looked up. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. "Vivienne—" I think I remember my eyes stinging with the camera still in my hand, taking this horrible image for a memory too. The way Mara's face contorted when she saw me was something else. Derek scrambled off her, hands raised, like that would make it better. They both looked at me, naked and exposed and still tangled together, as if I was the one in the wrong. "Vivienne, baby, it's not what you think—" "It's exactly what I think." I sniffled, my voice was shaky. I don't know how. It felt like i wasn't the one in my body, like this was all just a dream. I walked out. I walked down the hall to the AV booth and swapped the wedding highlight reel for the footage I'd just taken. I was going to ruin their lives, I swear, I was going to. The technician didn't even look up. "All set, Miss Sinclair?" "All set." I walked back to my seat and sat down, crossed my hands in my lap like the perfect, obedient daughter I'd been trained to be. The lights dimmed and the music swelled. And then the screen lit up with my fiancé inside my sister. Suddenly, there was chaos. Derek's face went white. Mara's went red. My mother fainted into my father's arms. The guests… God, the guests. Some of them were laughing. Some of them were horrified. Most of them just sat there, frozen, watching the show unfold on the biggest screen in the room. I watched too. I watched Derek's carefully constructed reputation crumble in real time. I watched my sister's perfect mask slip. I watched the life I'd built for two years, the engagement, the wedding planning, the future I'd believed in with my whole stupid heart, burn to ash. And for four minutes, I felt good. Four minutes of pure, incandescent revenge. Then my father pulled me outside. "The wedding is still happening." He said in a firm voice, his eyes cold. I froze and stared at him. The words wouldn't form at all. "The Shen family's backing is not optional. We need them, whether you like it ir not," he continued calmly, Like he was discussing the weather. "If you won't stand at that altar, Mara will. She's already agreed. The family needs this, Vivienne. You need to understand that." My father didn't care what I felt. He didn't care that I was basically humiliated on my own wedding day. Oh, I understood perfectly. I understood that I was worth less than a business deal, than a merger, less than the money my parents had been chasing for thirty years. I understood that my sister, who had just been filmed f*****g my fiancé, was a more valuable asset than me. I didn't argue. A tear i couldn't help fell out of my eyes. “Why?!” I yelled. “Why do I have to be the one to back down! This wedding should not be held! It's unfair!” I screamed, eyes stinging badly as my vision blurred. “Vivienne!” My dad screamed. “No!” “Vivienne!” He screamed again and slapped me. I froze, my body rigid. “You're going to behave and not cause a scene, you hear me?!” He huffed and straightened his suit, stepping away. I nodded quietly and sniffled. Wow. This is really just it. I just confirmed that in fact, my parents didn't give a f**k about me. They didn't. THE PRESENT The reception goes on without me. I find a bottle of champagne in the garden. It's half-empty, left behind by some guest who got distracted by the scandal. I finish it. Then I find another. I'm on my third bottle when the world starts tilting. The garden is beautiful. That's the thing. My mother spent a fortune on flowers. White roses and peonies and little twinkling lights woven through the hedges. It looks like a fairy tale. It's all lies. Everything is lies. I walk until I find the terrace. The city spreads out below me, all those lights, all those lives, and none of them are mine anymore. What would it do without Derek in my life? I sipped on my champagne. I press my palms against the stone railing and lean forward, letting the breeze ruffle my hair. My reflection stares back from the glass doors. A ghost in a champagne-colored dress. My eyes were swollen. I felt a presence behind me and turned around, only for my eyes to meet a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair slightly disheveled despite his expensive suit. His eyes are grey and cold and they watch me like I'm a problem he's trying to solve. I don't recognize him. I don't care. "You lost?" My voice comes out flat, needing him to leave here. "No." He takes a step closer. "Are you?" I laugh. It comes out broken. "Depends on who's asking." "Does it?" He's close now. Close enough that I can smell his cologne. Something expensive. I should step back. I should walk away. But my feet won't move and I don't know why. "Do you know who I am?" I ask. "Vivienne Sinclair." He says it without inflection. "Or rather, Vivienne Shen. Tonight, anyway. I wouldn't be here if I didn't read the wedding invitation containing the names of the bride and groom.” I flinch. "Not anymore." "No?" "Derek married my sister." The words taste like ash. "So. Two for one. How generous of me." He doesn't laugh or smile. He just watches me with those grey eyes, and something in his expression shifts and darkens. "Your fiancé is a fool," he says. "Ex-fiancé." "Ex-fiancé." He corrects himself smoothly. "He's still a fool." His hand comes up. I don't flinch when his thumb brushes my cheek. I should. I should push him away. But there's something in his touch that makes me feel less empty. Less hollow. "Are you going to cry?" he asks. "No." "Good." His thumb traces my cheekbone, then slides to my lips, his thumb just shy of entering my mouth. "Don't." I don't know why that lands. Why those two words, don't cry, feel more like a command than a comfort. But they settle in my chest, heavy and warm, and I hold onto them. "You don't even know me," I say, my words muffled from his mouth. “Who are you?” I asked shakily, my brain imagining is Derek. Maybe it's the drink or maybe it's something else, I don't know. “You don't need to know.” He says and just immediately, his other hand finds my waist and slams me into him. I gasp at the suddeness. I should resist. I should push him away and walk out of here with whatever dignity I have left. But I'm so tired of doing the right thing. The right thing got me cheated on, humiliated and replaced. "Fine," I say. "Fine what?" "Fine, don't tell me." I reach up and grab the lapels of his jacket. "I don't care." He smirks and then he slams his lips against mine.