The Wrong Wedding

Tessa Rhodes stood still at the altar, her breath caught somewhere between panic and disbelief. The cold stone beneath her heels pressed up through the soles of her shoes, anchoring her to the spot, but it did nothing to still the chaos running wild in her mind.

The murmur of the crowd behind her sounded like waves crashing in the distance. She didn't hear words, just a low, rising tide of expectations, assumptions, and judgment. Her gaze stayed fixed on the man she was about to marry, Mark. His face looked familiar, but wrong. The man she had once thought she'd build a life with now seemed like a stranger in a borrowed suit.

His eyes, dull and distant, didn't carry warmth or excitement. They didn't search her face with love or hope. They just stared, like he was waiting for this to be over. And maybe... he was.

The air inside the church felt too heavy. It clung to her like wet fabric, suffocating her beneath layers of silk and lace. Her dress, pristine and flawless, had been designed to make her look like the perfect bride. But it felt more like a costume, a lie wrapped in white.

Inside, she was falling apart.

Her heart wasn't here. Her soul had already escaped, long before this day ever came.

Tessa's eyes flicked to the front pew. Her mother sat ramrod straight, her expression carved from stone. Cold. Critical. She didn't look worried, she looked watchful, like a hawk ready to strike the moment Tessa stepped out of line. Her father, equally rigid, looked like he was clenching every muscle in his body just to stay silent. She knew that look. That was the face of disappointment.

A ripple of whispers moved through the crowd, and she could feel every word scrape against her skin.

Her breathing grew shallow. Her fingers twitched at her sides. The officiant's voice rang through the church, echoing off the tall stone walls, but the words felt like they belonged to someone else's life. She couldn't hear them. Didn't want to.

This wasn't what love felt like.

This wasn't what forever was supposed to be.

And she knew deep in her bones that she couldn't go through with this.

She couldn't stand there and lie, not with her lips, and not with her life.

Her knees shook as she shifted her weight, and that tiny movement drew Mark's attention. He finally looked at her. Not with love. Not even with concern. Just confusion and under that, something sharper. Annoyance. Frustration. Maybe even resentment. But not love. Not even close.

She broke.

Tessa turned on her heel, and the silence shattered.

A gasp rose from the crowd like a wave. Her heels echoed off the stone floor, louder and louder, as she moved down the aisle, past flowers, past guests, past all the plans made without her.

Then her foot caught.

She stumbled hard.

The sharp edge of her heel snagged her dress, and her knees hit the floor with a painful thud. For a moment, she stayed there, breath knocked from her chest, surrounded by silence so thick it rang in her ears.

"Tessa!" Her mother's voice cracked through the stillness, sharp and angry, slicing the air like a knife.

But it was too late.

Tessa pushed herself up, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress as she stood. Her body trembled, but she didn't stop.

She ran.

Past the altar. Past the rows of people who had come to watch her become someone else's wife.

She didn't look back.

The church doors loomed ahead, massive and heavy.

They opened with a groan, and she burst through them like a bird escaping a cage.

They slammed shut behind her like a final sentence.

And just like that she was free.

Outside, the street was empty. Quiet. The cool air hit her face and made her gasp. It was the first real breath she'd taken in weeks. She stopped at the curb, not caring that her dress dragged through puddles and dirt. Her hands shook as she clutched the skirt, trying to hold it together, both the fabric and herself.

Her mind was spinning.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket again and again, but she didn't check it. She didn't need to. She knew who it was. Her mother, furious. Mark, probably confused, or worse, humiliated. Maybe someone from the wedding staff. But none of their messages mattered.

She couldn't go back.

She wouldn't go back.

She walked. No direction, no plan, just motion. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it might burst. She could still hear the whispers. Still feel the pressure. Still picture her father's clenched jaw. Her mother's angry eyes.

The town had never felt so small. Every house, every storefront, every familiar face, they weren't comforting anymore. They were just walls closing in.

Eventually, her feet took her to the marina. The smell of the ocean wrapped around her, salty and fresh. Boats bobbed gently in the water, and the wooden dock creaked beneath her steps.

One boat stood out. Small, but solid. A man stood beside it, older, with tired eyes and a thick beard. He didn't look surprised to see her, even though she was still in a wedding dress.

"Where's this one headed?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He looked her over. Didn't raise a brow. Didn't ask why she looked like she just ran out of a chapel. "Private island. People go there for weddings, honeymoons, that kind of thing."

The word wedding made her stomach twist.

"I want to go," she said quickly.

"You got cash?" he asked.

She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out the emergency envelope she'd hidden there two days ago. She didn't even count it, just handed it over. "Yeah."

He nodded once. That was it. No questions. No judgment. Just a quiet acceptance she hadn't felt from anyone in years.

The boat rocked as she stepped on board. As it pulled away, she stood at the back, gripping the railing, watching the town grow smaller in the distance.

Her chest was still tight. Her dress was torn at the hem. Her life was in pieces.

But she wasn't stuck anymore.

She was finally leaving.

The boat stopped in a quiet cove. The island ahead was covered in trees, white sand lining the edge. The air smelled like salt and sunshine.

She stepped off the boat barefoot, her heels in one hand, the other gripping her skirts as the wind whipped her hair around. The sand gave under her feet, soft and warm. She didn't know where she was going, only that it wasn't back.

She walked the beach for a while, the ocean humming beside her. The silence was strange, but not unwelcome.

Then she heard music.

Soft at first. Then laughter. Voices.

She followed the sound without thinking, and walked straight into a nightmare.

Another wedding.

This one looked like something out of a magazine. Flowers everywhere. Guests in designer dresses. Waiters passing champagne. A soft breeze carried the smell of roses and money.

And there he was.

Cade Prescott.

Even from a distance, she knew it was him. Everyone knew Cade. A billionaire with a reputation for keeping people at arm's length. Powerful, cold, and impossibly handsome.

He stood near the altar, tall and still. Every part of him looked expensive, from the perfect fit of his black suit to the calm confidence in the way he held his shoulders.

Tessa stayed back, ducking behind a few palm trees. Her heart pounded. She had just escaped one wedding, she didn't need to fall into another.

Then she saw the bride.

Lucy Martin.

She walked down the aisle like she owned it. Head high, smile tight, eyes full of pride. She was stunning, of course. The kind of stunning that hurt to look at.

Tessa turned to leave quietly. But fate had other plans.

Her foot hit a stone.

She stumbled, arms flailing, and slammed right into a tall flower arrangement. The whole thing toppled with a crash.

Dozens of heads turned.

She froze.

Cade turned too.

Their eyes met.

He looked at her, confused but sharp. Like he was already working out the story behind her eyes.

"I... I'm sorry," she whispered, too stunned to move.

Cade stepped forward, his voice low and steady.

"You're not supposed to be here."