Before I Go

chapter 2

The white lace of my wedding gown lay in a crumpled, pathetic heap on the floor. I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, surrounded by rose petals that felt like mocking red stains against the white sheets. Heart-shaped balloons swayed in the breeze of the air conditioner, and a three-tier cake sat untouched on the vanity.

The room was a masterpiece of romance, but I was the only one in it.

I had slipped away from the reception early, stepping into a dusty yellow cab while the guests were still drinking my champagne. The silence of the hotel room was deafening. To drown it out, I turned on the television, flipping through channels until I hit a late-night adult movie.

I stared at the screen, watching the tangled limbs and hearing the forced moans. We had promised each other tonight would be different. We had planned for hours of heat and whispered promises. But as I watched the flickering images, my chest felt hollow. I wanted to feel a spark, a hunger, but the weight of being abandoned at the altar—even for a few hours—kept me cold.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Ten missed calls. *John.*

A wave of irritation washed over me. I reached out, my fingers trembling, and flipped the phone onto its face. I didn't want to hear his excuses. I wanted to feel something other than this biting loneliness.

A soft knock echoed through the room.

I stiffened. My heart hammered against my ribs. I walked to the door, my movements heavy, and pulled it open.

John stood there. He held a single, drooping rose, a crooked smile plastered on his face as if nothing had happened.

I didn't say a word. I turned my back on him and walked toward the bed. "Go away, John. I’m not in the mood for games."

The door clicked shut behind him. I heard his footsteps on the carpet, following me. "You can’t stay mad at me, Angel. Especially not tonight."

I lay back on the pillows, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "You left me. At our own wedding. Do you have any idea how that looked?"

He sank onto the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight. He reached out, sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me back against his chest. His breath was warm against my ear.

"I'm building a life for us," he murmured, his voice smooth like silk. "The surprise I told you about... I’m working so hard just to see you smile. Every second I was gone was for you."

I felt my resolve softening. It was a lie, or at least a half-truth, but I was so tired of being angry. "You should have called."

"I know. I'm sorry." He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. "I can tell you missed me."

"I'm still furious," I whispered, though my head tilted back to give him better access.

"I know," he breathed. "Just let me make it up to you. Let me give you the night I promised."

He moved with a sudden, focused intensity. He retreated from my neck, his eyes dark and unreadable. His hands moved to the hem of my silk panties, sliding them down my legs with agonizing slowness.

When his fingers touched me, I gasped, my body betraying my anger instantly. He moved with a steady, rhythmic pace that had my breath hitching in my throat. He leaned close to my face, his shadow looming over me.

"So wet for me," he prompted, his voice dropping an octave.

The coldness in my chest began to melt into a white-hot heat. My hips arched off the bed, seeking more. I couldn't help it. The months of stress, the fear of the wedding, the loneliness of the last hour—it all poured out in a desperate plea. "Please, John. Just... please."

He stripped out of his trousers, the moonlight catching the hard lines of his body. He didn't move to join me immediately. Instead, he loomed over me, his hand gripping my chin to force me to look at him.

"Say it again," he commanded. "Say please."

"Please," I moaned, my pride completely gone.

"Good girl."

He entered me with a slow, powerful thrust that made my toes curl into the silk sheets. He reached up, unhooking my bra and discarding it before leaning down to catch a n****e between his teeth. The friction, the heat, and the sheer intensity of his movements were overwhelming. I screamed into the quiet room, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.

After a while, he let out a strained breath and shifted. He sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, guiding me down. I assumed he was getting tired, so I took control, moving up and down in a slow, grinding rhythm. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder.

It had been so long. Between the business and the drama, I had forgotten how much I needed this connection. I leaned in to kiss him, my lips searching for his, but he pulled his head back sharply.

He caught my chin, holding me still while I was still draped over him. "You know I don't like the kissing, Angel. I already gave you one at the ceremony. That’s enough."

The coldness flickered in my stomach again. He doesn't like kissing? Since when?

But the pleasure was too close to the surface to argue. I was seconds away from the edge when he suddenly gripped my waist and pushed me off him. He stood up abruptly, his body vibrating with tension. He turned away from me, his back to the bed, and finished himself alone.

I stared at his back, watching the rhythm of his shoulders. When he was done, the silence returned, heavier than before.

"Why did you pull out?" I asked, my voice small and trembling. "John, we’re married now. We talked about starting a family soon."

He turned to look at me, and for a second, I didn't recognize the expression on his face. His voice sounded different—sharper, colder. "Don't overthink it, baby. First things first."

Without another word, he grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't even shut the door all the way.

I sat up, pulling the sheets around my naked body. My eyes drifted to the nightstand where he had dropped his phone. A bright light flashed as a notification hit the screen.

I knew I shouldn't look. I knew it was wrong. But the girl’s warning at the chapel echoed in my head. *I heard what they planned.*

I reached out and tapped the screen.

A message was waiting from a contact saved only as "Peter."

Where are you, baby? I'm waiting in the car. Is it done yet?"