Before the Wedding
932 Words
The first time Damian Cole looked at me like he hated me, I was wearing a wedding dress.
I didn't understand it.
Not then.
At that moment, all I could see was the man I loved standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me.
The church was filled with flowers.
White roses lined the aisle, candles flickered beside the pews, and hundreds of guests turned to watch me walk toward the man who was supposed to become my husband.
My father held my arm.
“Stop shaking,” he whispered.
I smiled nervously.
“I’m not shaking.”
“You are.”
I looked ahead again.
Damian was staring directly at me.
Tall. Impossibly handsome. Dressed in a black tuxedo that seemed to make everyone else in the room disappear.
He had always looked dangerous.
But with me, he had been different.
Gentle.
Patient.
Loving.
At least, that's what I believed.
When I reached him, he extended his hand.
I placed mine in his.
His fingers closed around mine.
Cold.
Too cold.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
I smiled.
“And you look nervous.”
“I am.”
That made me laugh softly.
The priest began speaking, but I barely heard him.
My heart was beating too loudly.
This was it.
After months of planning, I was finally marrying Damian.
The man who had surprised me with flowers when I was having a terrible day.
The man who remembered how I liked my coffee.
The man who stayed awake beside me when I was sick.
The man who had told me, “I don't believe in perfect people, Amara. But I believe you're perfect for me.”
I believed him.
God, I believed him.
“Do you, Damian Cole, take Amara Bennett to be your wife?”
There was a pause.
A strange, almost invisible pause.
Then Damian looked into my eyes.
“I do.”
My chest tightened with happiness.
“And do you, Amara Bennett, take Damian Cole to be your husband?”
“I do.”
Everyone applauded.
Someone cried.
My father smiled.
And Damian kissed me.
It was soft.
Brief.
Almost tender.
But when he pulled away, his eyes changed.
For just one second, I saw something in them that I had never seen before.
Coldness.
Hatred.
Then it disappeared.
I convinced myself I had imagined it.
After the ceremony, the reception was a blur.
Music.
Dancing.
Champagne.
Photographs.
Laughter.
Everyone wanted a picture with the newlyweds.
My mother hugged me so tightly that I almost couldn't breathe.
“My baby is married.”
I laughed.
“Mom, I'm not a baby.”
“You'll always be my baby.”
Across the room, Damian stood beside my father.
They were talking.
My father's smile suddenly disappeared.
I frowned.
When Damian noticed me watching, he smiled.
But my father's face remained strangely serious.
I started walking toward them.
“What are you two talking about?”
My father immediately smiled.
“Nothing important.”
Damian placed his hand around my waist.
“Your father was just congratulating me.”
“For what?”
“For surviving his daughter.”
I slapped his chest playfully.
“Very funny.”
He laughed.
My father didn't.
Later that night, we left for the hotel.
Our honeymoon suite overlooked the city.
The lights below glittered like stars.
I stood by the window, staring at the view while Damian removed his jacket.
“We're really married,” I said.
“Yes.”
I turned around.
He was watching me.
“Are you happy?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard.
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then he smiled.
“Very.”
I walked toward him.
“I love you.”
His expression changed.
For the first time that night, he looked almost guilty.
But then he leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“I know.”
I frowned.
“That isn't what you're supposed to say.”
He smiled faintly.
“Get some sleep, Amara.”
I laughed.
“You're avoiding the question.”
“Maybe.”
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Perfect.
Until I woke up sometime after midnight.
The room was dark.
Damian wasn't beside me.
I sat up.
“Damian?”
No answer.
I heard voices coming from the balcony.
I quietly got out of bed.
The balcony door was slightly open.
I walked toward it.
Then I heard Damian's voice.
“It's done.”
I stopped.
Another man's voice replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
My heart began pounding.
“What about the girl?”
There was silence.
Then Damian answered.
“Amara?”
My stomach dropped.
“Yes. What are you going to do with her?”
Damian looked out into the darkness.
His voice was completely different from the man I knew.
Cold.
Emotionless.
“She'll stay with me.”
“And her father?”
Damian laughed quietly.
“Her father will lose everything.”
I covered my mouth.
I couldn't breathe.
The stranger asked one final question.
“And if she finds out why you married her?”
Damian turned toward the window.
Toward me.
Our eyes met.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he smiled.
Not the warm smile I knew.
Something darker.
Something terrifying.
He opened the balcony door.
“Then,” he whispered,
“she'll finally understand that I never married her for love.”
My blood ran cold.
And suddenly, everything I knew about my husband became a lie.
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