The CEO's Bride

The empty Aisle

Liam stood at the altar, his hands clammy inside his black suit sleeves. The air in St. Michael’s Church was heavy with the perfume of lilies, sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows and spilling into colors across the aisle. Rows of familiar faces turned toward the back, waiting for the music to swell, for the doors to open, for her to appear.

It was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

The string quartet paused in that delicate silence before the bridal march. The doors remained shut. His best man, his brother Brent, patted his shoulder.

Liam tried to smile, but his stomach tightened. Five minutes became ten. The guests shifted uncomfortably in their seats, whispering in low tones.

The priest glanced at his watch.

She’ll come, Liam told himself. This is just cold feet.

But then minutes later, Johaima returned, and her face was pale. She didn’t walk to the altar—just stopped halfway, shaking her head ever so slightly. That was when Liam felt his knees weaken.

“What do you mean?” Liam muttered under his breath when Johaima, Ysabelle's friend came close enough.

“She’s gone,” Johaima said. “Her things are gone from the bridal room.”

Liam’s vision blurred. His ears buzzed as if the church had suddenly turned into a giant seashell.

“Gone?”

Brent’s voice dropped to a whisper. “One of the maids said she saw her leave… about an hour ago.

The words hit Liam harder than any punch he’d ever taken. His chest felt crushed, his lungs unable to draw in enough air.

The priest approached quietly, his eyes filled with that practiced sympathy reserved for funerals and failed unions. “ Mr. Liam… perhaps we should speak outside.”

But Liam shook his head. “No,” he said, louder than he intended. Everyone’s eyes turned to him. Every guest. Every whisper stopped.

He swallowed hard, stepped back from the altar, and forced himself to face the crowd. “There’s… been a change,” he said, his voice trembling. “The wedding… won’t be happening today.”

A murmur rolled through the pews. His mother put a hand to her mouth. His father’s jaw clenched. Somewhere, someone let out a gasp that seemed to echo.

Liam walked out before anyone could come to him, before the pity in their eyes could crush him entirely.

Outside, the sunlight was blinding. The air smelled of summer, but it felt cold on his skin. He pulled off his tie, breathing hard. He thought of her—Ysabelle—in her white dress, the way she’d looked during their dinner just last night. How could she leave?

Liam paced the church courtyard. He wanted to call her, but his phone stayed stubbornly heavy in his pocket. What would he say?

Brent came out and stood beside him. “Do you want me to find her?”

Liam shook his head. “If she wanted me to find her, she wouldn’t have left like this.”

They stood in silence. The sound of the church doors opening behind them carried murmurs of guests leaving, heels clicking on the pavement. His mother approached, her eyes wet. She touched his arm. “Liam, come home. We’ll… sort things out later.”

But he couldn’t. Home meant more questions, more pity, more reminders of the day that was supposed to be perfect.

That night, Liam sat alone in his apartment. The tuxedo jacket was draped over a chair, the shirt wrinkled and untucked. He’d ignored dozens of calls and messages. The wedding cake, untouched, sat in the fridge of his parents’ house, a reminder of something that would never be.

He finally picked up his phone and opened a message from Ysabelle. It wasn’t long. Just eight words.

I’m sorry, Liam. I can’t do this.

No explanation. No second message. Just the blunt end of a chapter he hadn’t realized was closing.

Liam stared at the text until his vision swam, then set the phone face down on the table.

Days turned into weeks. People in town whispered. Some said she’d run away with someone else. Others claimed she’d gotten scared of commitment. Liam stopped going to the grocery store in the daytime, stopped answering most calls. Work was the only place where he could pretend everything was normal.

One evening, his brother Brent showed up unannounced with two beers. They sat on the couch, watching a game neither of them cared about.

“She doesn’t deserve you, man,” Brent finally said.

Liam gave a tired laugh. “I don’t even know if that’s true anymore. Maybe I was blind. Maybe I didn’t see her for who she was.”

Brent shook his head. “Or maybe she didn’t see herself in your future. Either way, she left. That’s on her.”

Liam knew his brother meant well, but the truth still sat like a stone in his stomach.

Months later.......

Liam went back to St. Michael’s for the first time since the wedding day—or what should have been the wedding day. It was a Saturday afternoon. The church was empty, sunlight still streaming through the same stained-glass windows.

He stood at the altar, looking down the aisle, and felt the ghost of that day rise around him—the expectant hush, the flowers, the unopened doors.

For a long moment, he let himself grieve. Not for Ysabelle exactly, but for the version of his life he’d believed in. For the man who had stood here months ago, certain that love was enough. He know it was an arranged marriage but he truly loves her.

Then he left, the sound of his footsteps echoing behind him, each one carrying him further from the empty aisle.

Liam would never fully understand why Ysabelle walked out. But slowly, the need for answers gave way to something else—acceptance.

Love, he realized, was not a guarantee. It should always be both sides, and never was a choice, and if one person stopped choosing, the whole thing could crumble.

She had stopped choosing him. And now, it was his turn to choose himself.