The Second Chance Bride

Chloe I shouldn't have come here. The thought looped in my mind like a desperate prayer. I sat there, on a velvet couch, in the middle of the chaos, my hands wrapped around a glass of water I hadn't touched. Speakers thumped, and strobe lights flashed, cutting through the haze of sweat and perfume. Bodies pressed too close. I hated parties. Always had. Always would. But tonight, tonight was about me. Chloe Winters…soon to be Chloe Astor. My eyes scanned across the room, out of boredom, and I saw him. Tristan Astor, my fiancé. He laughed in the middle of his circle, his smile gleaming with effortless charm, soaking in the attention like a god amongst its worshippers. And for a moment, the noise was worth it. His stray gaze met mine, and he winked, butterflies causing beautiful chaos in my tummy. I tore my gaze almost instantly, and then I saw her. Carrie Winters…my twin and rival. For years, we lived like strangers. Not strangers—more like royalty and a servant. A few days ago, she'd apologized for it all—the years of resentment. Her words sounded sincere, eyes drowned in tears. To me, it was a performance, a calculated dance. Maybe she's changed... I didn't think too deeply into it. But why now? I wanted to ask her. To throw the truth in her face and watch her try to spin it into some twisted story. “Would you like to join us, Chloe? … The shots are very good.” Carrie moved towards me and slid into the couch; her voice snapped me back to the present, her smile too bright. “No, I'm okay here.” I smiled back at her, feigning comfort. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she was studying me. “Come in, it's your bridal shower. C'mon, enjoy. We're all partying.” She said, her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes narrowed through the crowd, her black hair catching the light. “I'm good, Carrie.” I answered, my voice firmer. She shrugged, moved back to her friends, and downed shots. For a moment, they forgot I was present, that all this was planned because of me. They moved to the dance floor and swayed their bodies under the spotlights. I wished the drama could end; the speakers should just go off or something. Nothing came up. Tristan was the only person keeping me grounded, but his friends flickered around him like flies on a fresh wound, and I couldn't even see him anymore. I stood up to enjoy some fresh air when something spilled on my dress. A wine...red, cold, and sticky, all over me. Shit! I mumbled. I looked up to meet her panicking face. She was reaching out for a handkerchief. I pretended to be calm. “It's fine..I'll get to the restroom.” I pushed my way through the crowd, my eyes darting around, searching for a door. “Where the hell is the restroom?” I mumbled to myself, walking away, the music fading into the background. After what felt like forever, I found the restroom, cleaned up and stared into the mirror, arranging my dress. I returned to the party, almost in time for the toast. A bartender leaned in, “Drink for the toast?” I looked at him through my eyelashes, hesitating. Alcohol and I don't mix. Hell! We shouldn't even be in a sentence. But I needed something else - a distraction from this drama. I collected the drink, wrapping my fingers around it. “What harm would a glass of alcohol do?” I said to myself. Then, I emptied the glass before I could second guess, feeling its burn down my throat. I returned the glass into the tray, and nodded in appreciation. After fifteen minutes, my chest heated, my skin suddenly felt tight. The room swam around me like a slow hurricane. Like the floor was catching up with me.At that point, I sensed something was wrong. Suddenly, the little crown on my head felt like a heavy load, pressing down on my neck. My vision blurred like I was trying to see through a smeared glass, my knees weakened and my legs..they failed me. I tried to move towards the restroom and stumbled. “Chloe” A voice called. It was Carrie. “You don't seem well. Let me help you to the room” She said carefully, her voice laced in between surprise and concern. She swung her arm around my shoulders. My system was shutting down. We entered the room and I collapsed on the bed. “My body is heating” I said, sprawling in absolute discomfort. “What's happening to me?” I mumbled, almost beneath my breath. “ You're okay…I'll be downstairs to call Tristan.” Chloe said, her tone firm and composed. Before I could read through the lines, the door opened and closed. Then, she was gone. I tugged at my clothes, this time, removing them. The heat was getting unbearable like it was erupting from my insides. My body was on fire. After some moments, I felt someone drawing small circles on my thigh, the hand creeping upward. I craved touch - raw and direct. I didn't resist. And I just had the most memorable night of my life. Meanwhile, a red light flashed in the corner of the room -a camera. It was recording. I woke up that next day and waited for freedom, for peace, for the feeling of being unshackled. It didn't come. What came instead was… pain. The room was strange—definitely not Tristan's. My eyes rolled in their sockets, trying to rewind past events. I looked beside me, and the stranger I just had a one-night stand with was sleeping peacefully. I peered underneath the thin bedspread. All the memories came rushing back. I wanted to scream. Hot tears stung as they rolled down my cheeks, almost blurring my vision. My head spun. It was difficult wrapping my head around it - that I betrayed Tristan. And the height of it - I was so stupid. I rushed out of the bed; my chest tightened. My torn dress and panties scattered on the floor like leaves in the wind. I walked towards them, my heart sinking. Shame settled in my throat, pressing down my lungs. He took advantage of me. I wanted to shout. But I kept mute—in defeat. In disappointment. I couldn’t even look at him twice. My eyes caught a brown coat that smelled like it was buried in his cologne. I didn't know him, but I hated him. I didn't want to wear it. But I wouldn't leave that place naked. The coat I got in exchange for my dignity and self-respect. The coat that witnessed every moment of pleasure that's about to turn my entire life upside-down. I walked down the hallway. Silence continued like a blade, sharp and searing, hurting every part of my body. I held the coat to my chest, as if that pathetic strap of clothing could somehow shield me from the truth. My body trembled. I palmed my mouth, avoiding the cries forcing to escape from the back of my throat; breath came in tight, uncontrollable bursts. My teary eyes searched for Room 312. I pushed it open and entered. “Where have you been?” The voice questioned, making me freeze.