TRAPPED BETWEEN TWO CHOICES

The makeup artist had just finished her work. I looked like the bride I was supposed to be, with the ideal face. Any minute now, I should be making my way down the aisle. A wedding planner would cue the music, and I would begin my journey towards eternity with Miguel Santos. Sitting in front of the mirror, I tried to take it all in. Was this thing true? It is him; he is the man I was going to marry. He was the embodiment of desire. He possesses the desire of a woman's heart. Good-looking. I'm Rich. Potent. His name kept appearing in newspapers, blogs, whispers, and rumors. It is real now. This story has evolved beyond mere rumors. Remembering how he had proposed, I grinned to myself. We sat in the front row at the Super Bowl. It was a boisterous, raucous, and energetic crowd. The halftime performance then began. The large screen focused on us. And he produced a diamond ring at that very moment. I turned to him, gasped, and repeatedly said "yes." Everyone in the vicinity clapped. Cameras blinked. Social networking exploded. Everything went perfectly. Before everything began, I wanted to give him a call, so I went to my hotel room to get some peace and quiet. Miguel had said on the phone, "You'll be mine in an hour." He sounded so confident. I was just waiting. I threw myself onto the bed, feeling anxious and ecstatic. I was thinking about other things. a honeymoon. The shoreline. It was just the two of us. He touched my skin waved How did we laugh? I get goosebumps. With a foolish smile, I closed my eyes. Then, my phone buzzed. Half-lost in the dream, I reached over languidly. There was only a single new message. The call came from an unidentified number. This content is for your eyes only. Huh? We attached the video. I was curious, so I tapped it. That's when it all fell apart. My Miguel lay in bed without a shirt on. He lay on top of someone who clearly wasn't me. No. Oh, no, no. The bed was one I knew. I was familiar with the room. I have visited that place too often. For Valentine's Day, I chose that shirt for him myself. The video wasn't old. I quickly blinked, hoping I was mistaken. It might have been a lie. A hoax. The hoax was not what it appeared to be. Like he'd done it a million times, he unclasped her bra. I was gasping for air. My heart ran. I felt uneasy. He kissed her firmly. All over. My breathing was difficult. The video stopped. However, the discomfort did not. I found myself immobilized. Simply... frozen. I had ruined my makeup. I could feel the mascara and perspiration blending as it ran down my cheeks. As I looked in the mirror, my chest heaved. That dress is white, Crystals and beads gleamed as if nothing were amiss. However, everything was in error. Everything. The girl in front of the mirror appeared to be a ghost. I muttered, "How could such an event be happening?" The silence enveloped me. I wanted someone to come in and call it a mistake. An error. A parody. Yet nobody showed up. "Why would he do this to me?" I loved him. I'd given him everything. My emotions. I have faith. My future. Right now? Sitting in a hotel suite fit for a bride made me feel foolish. My bridesmaids played music and giggled down the hallway. They created a joyful, pre-wedding sound. I was disgusted. They remained ignorant. They had no clue. Once more, I moved towards bed. Every stride was slow. Like the tail of a ghost, the train of my dress trailed behind. My feet were too heavy. I felt a burden on my heart. I began to unbutton the gown's back. I undid the back of the gown one loop at a time. It's akin to unraveling a falsehood. I left the dress there when it finally fell. It was futile to leave it lying on the floor. I put on the same pair of blue palazzo trousers that I had on the previous evening. I found the black crop top I had left on the chair. I took off the glitzy heels and replaced them with comfortable flats. I reached for my pocketbook. I threw my phone and whatever was on the bedside table onto it. It is time to leave. The girls were getting ready in the next room, and I opened the door. "Althea" Jasmine looked at me in disbelief. She cleaned my clothes. My visage. I am not wearing a gown. I said, "I have to go," and brushed her aside. "What do you mean that you must leave? She followed me and asked, "Are you okay?!" I remained silent. She persisted in calling my name, but currently, I was unable to handle her or anyone else. With clicking heels, more bridesmaids hurried into the hallway. "Althea, hold on!" I was halfway down the corridor already. "Where are you heading?!" I said, "I can't do it." "What do you do?" "This." Anything at all." "However, what happened?!" I did not respond. Flashbulbs struck my face as I pushed open the hotel doors. Click and click and click. Outside, reporters and photographers shouted my name while taking pictures. The bride is running. The headlines had already written themselves. I was indifferent. Allow them to speak. Let the world see. After an hour, I returned home and stuffed my bags in my car's trunk. There is only one bag available. Three. Two. I climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. It was getting dark. Ideal. Nobody would be able to see my face. I gripped the wheel more tightly than I should have as I drove to the airport. I waited in silence at the terminal. My phone kept turning on. Miguel. once more. Mommy. Calls, messages. Danica, too, had probably realized something was wrong. But I didn't answer. I had no desire to explain. I wanted to avoid crying once more. I simply wanted to leave. He's far away. This is the current state of affairs. I have exhausted all options. The television at the airport flickered. The subject matter is a news report. We postponed the year's biggest wedding. Althea Cruz runs away before saying "I do." My name appeared on the screen. Makeup still conceals my broken face. The woman besides me paused. "Hey... aren’t you—?" "No," I replied, covering my head with my hoodie. I silently pleaded," Just let me vanish. A crackling sound came from the loudspeaker. *Flight 732's final call to Barcelona That was me. It's time to move on. Taking my suitcase, I got up and made my way to the gate. My phone was ringing behind me. I didn't look back. I was no longer in need of answers. Everything I needed to see was there.