Bound by a promise

CHAPTER THREE

“Aurora?” Noah’s voice cut through the chaos, confusion etched across his face. “What happened?” he asked, glancing past me.

Footsteps echoed behind. I tore myself out of his embrace and started walking away, my wedding dress swishing against my legs.

“Wait, Aurora!” Dave’s voice called after me. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

“Please!”

A sudden noise made me spin around. Noah had Dave pinned against the wall, his expression dark with anger. Dave’s eyes locked on mine, pleading, but how could I stay?

I kept walking, out into the reception. Heads turned. Whispers followed. My bare feet were cold on the marble floor, but I barely felt it.

Almost at the door, someone grabbed my arm. My heart lurched and I almost screamed—until I looked up.

Max. My brother. He was staring down at me, concern and anger battling in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, frowning. “Where are you going?” His gaze flicked around the room. “Where’s Dave?”

For the first time, I looked straight at him. All the pain crashed over me at once. I stepped forward and threw my arms around him, finally letting the tears spill

I wake up in an unfamiliar room, my body heavy, my mind foggy. For a heartbeat I pray it was all a dream—that I’m married to Dave, that everything was just one terrible nightmare. But then my eyes land on the wedding dress draped across the couch, crumpled and silent like a ghost of yesterday.

Sadness crashes over me, sharp and cold. I push myself up, looking around at the unfamiliar walls. Fragments of last night flicker through my head, broken and blurry. I don’t remember everything. I only know the ache in my chest is real.

I step out of the room and find Max and Noah in quiet conversation. Max has his head in his hands, voice low but trembling. “What am I going to do now? How am I going to tell our parents I couldn’t protect her from this pain?” He glances at Noah, who is at the stove, moving with slow, precise motions.

Noah doesn’t answer, just flips something in the pan. Max rubs his face again, his jaw tight. “I’m going to kill that boy. Who does he think he is?”

Without a word, Noah turns, sliding a plate across the counter toward him: sunny-side-up eggs and seasoned avocado toast—my favourite. The smell hits me like a memory. I can’t remember the last time I had it, or any home-cooked meal; work had swallowed everything.

Max looks at the plate, then at Noah. “I’m not hungry.”

“Go check on your sister,” Noah says evenly, pouring a warm glass of milk. “She should be awake by now. Take this too—she should drink it first.”

I step out of the bedroom completely and move toward them. Max is on his feet in an instant, rushing to hold me. I’m too weak to return the hug; my arms hang at my sides.

When I lift my head, Noah’s eyes are on me—dark, intense. The last time I saw him was during my first holiday home from college; he’d been there with Max the night I announced my relationship with Dave.

I haven’t seen him again until yesterday, smoking at my wedding. When did he start smoking? The thought pulls my brows into a frown.

I realise we’ve been staring at each other far too long, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of the oversized shirt hanging on my body—his shirt, I guess. Heat creeps up my neck. I pull away from Max and look up at him.

He must read the confusion in my eyes, because he says quietly, “You fainted at the reception yesterday. Noah carried you here.”

I just nod, taking in the space. The house looks almost empty, like no one really lives here. One of his many places, probably. Max guides me to the chair he’d been sitting in and urges me to eat. He looks helpless, sad.

The food smells amazing; my stomach clenches with hunger, but I can’t bring myself to lift a bite. Instead, I look up at Noah. He’s already watching me, reading every movement. I give the smallest nod to show my thanks.

Then I push back from the table, my voice barely steady. “Okay. I’m going to head back to my place and go to the company.”

Max stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, but before he can speak, Noah’s voice cuts through the room. “I’ll drive you.”

We should go get ready,” Noah says quietly as he passes me and Max, disappearing into a room at the far end of the apartment.

Max opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but I can’t bear to hear whatever he’s about to say. I just want to leave. I don’t even know where I want to go—I just know I can’t stay here.

I slip past him into the room I woke up in. It’s spacious, airy. Oddly enough, everything here is to my exact taste—from the paint colour on the walls to the furniture straight out of my Pinterest board. For a second, a strange warmth flickers in my chest… until I see my wedding dress on the couch.

Yesterday was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. I was supposed to be married.

I walk over and lift the dress carefully. Its pure white fabric is still flawless—no champagne stains, no happy tears. Just a hollow reminder of what should have been. I fold it with shaking hands and notice my phone lying beside it.

I don’t want to check the headlines. Despite my best efforts for a small, private wedding, my failure will already be trending. Part of me still hopes there’s a reasonable explanation for what I heard yesterday—that I overreacted, that it’s all a sick joke.

With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and open my messages.

Seventy-three new messages from Mina. For days I’ve been texting her with no reply, and now she’s sent me seventy-three. Anger curls inside me but quickly fades into a sharp pain in my chest. 13 new messages from Dave.

Aurora, please. Are you okay?

It’s not what you think.

We can explain.

I never wanted to hurt you.

Please answer your phone.

Mina and I need to talk to you.

Don’t shut me out.

I’m sorry, Aurora.

I love you.

Please come back, let me explain.

Tell me where you are.

I’m worried.

Please…

My chest tightens. I type a single reply

Meeting at my office. 1:00 p.m.

I know I shouldn’t see him. But I need answers.

Max enters quietly and sits beside me on the bed. “Aurora,” he says, like the word itself hurts him. His eyes search mine, desperate. I can’t speak; if I do, I’ll break again.

“I’ll be here,” he says softly. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m here. Always.”

A knock at the door makes me lift my head. Noah stands there now, fully dressed in a sharp suit that stretches across his broad shoulders. “Are you ready?” he asks.

I nod once, give Max a final glance, and rise to my feet. Then I follow Noah out.